Death Would Be A Mercy

Who's bright idea was it to drink for eight hours straight yesterday? As soon as I feel better, I am going to find the person responsible and bash his/her head in.

So I woke up drunk this morning.

What was a fairly amusing occurrence in college is miles less entertaining now. I. Want. To. Die.

I think I have discovered the nebulous phase, thought to be mythical, in which one is simultaneously hung over and still a little drunk. It is not an attractive phase.

I'm fairly sure I would have failed the straight line test when I woke up this morning. Luckily I seem to have gotten my motor skills under control. I think. One hopes. Because in half an hour I'm going to an industry conference to schmooze with peers. And schmoozing is hard if you can't even stand up straight.

Wish me luck. Or a merciful death. You know, whichever.