I get a mail this morning:

How is your head this morning Helen - I got home at 0230.....got the last train 00.36hrs.

Great night '¦tequilaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa'¦'¦'¦'¦...

It hits me like a freight train.

Oh God. There was tequila. A lot of tequila.

As a result I'm now sitting here in front of the pc in my robe, hair wet and wearing a baseball cap to try to block out any light. I smell like blackberries from a Lush bath bomb I used to try to nurse the toxins out of my body. I think that was just wishful bath bombing, as although I smell like a bowl of Trix if my stomach is any gauge I am still toxin-ridden. I am eating Ryvita (which is an English cracker not unlike cardboard) and hoping to God I keep it down. I am alternating between hot and cold and can't decide if I want to go lay down, keep going, or throw up.

That's right.

I'm hungover.

Yesterday I slogged it out to London in a great 1950's style FCUK skirt, armed with my briefcase, that Fucking Projector, and a good outlook on a full morning of meetings with my team. After the meet, the team went for a massive lunch in a nice restaurant overlooking the Thames. But while the team would get to go on lunching and drinking, my teammate Peter and I had to get back to Dream Job for a demo.

When it was done Peter and I, exhausted and stressed, got a text to join up with the team, most of whom had left the nice restaurant and were now working on exercising their elbows in that historic dance known to mankind as: the drinking move.

When we got there, a few of them were already hammered. Peter and I settled in with a glass of wine for me and a Guinness for him and we listened to the drunk talk. It was, actually, all work talk and work stories, but it felt nice to be together as a team and to vent. It felt good to give off some ribbing and to get some in return, and to know that everyone simply had their hair down.

It was all going so well, and I only had two glasses of wine before moving on to the Diet Cokes. I wasn't interested in getting drunk. The two glasses of wine were all I wanted.

And then someone ordered tequila shots.

And being the chick from Texas, I was asked (in a clever ploy to get me drinking again which, fair play to them, worked) to show these men how tequila shots are really done. Throwing caution to the wind and ignoring my firm mantra: "Never mix grape and grain unless eating muesli", my hand reached out and grabbed the glass.

It was downhill from there. Shots were done, and according to Greg (whose company footed the bill for the drink-up) we all did 5 shots each. Five. Talk was still work but began to be interspersed with the outrageous-after discussing work launch dates Karen revealed she had a Brazillian that day and the men reminisced about their favorite shapes for women (I didn't dare reveal that I am currently sporting a new Angus Special Edition-I have a Nike Swoosh down there).

Having had more than enough, I stumbled out and somehow managed to find Waterloo station, whereupon I implored my nice boy to meet me at the train station on the other end (I was too drunk to drive) and I set my new phone's alarm on to make sure I was awake near my train stop. I was so worried I might sleep past my stop I set the alarm for two stops before mine, whereupon I made myself stand by the doors in order to ensure I'd be awake (this was apparently good foresight on my behalf. According to three of the other guys they slept past their stops, one of them waking up in the middle of nowhere, thus necessitating a £50 taxi fare to get home to a very displeased wife.)

I get home, amazingly with both briefcase and Fucking Projector intact, and manage to take my contacts out and drop my perfect 1950's skirt in a little puffball on the floor. I am asleep in seconds. I haven't removed my makeup or, as I discover in the morning, my jewelry.

And this morning?

Yeah. This morning I wanted to die. I head into the bathroom after making conciliatory coffee for Angus in what would be the first of eight trips to the toilet (the good news is, now that my colon's empty I look pretty thin. The bad news is, I can only hope my colon's truly empty.) Said bathroom trips would be interspersed with dry heaves over the toilet in my stomach's desperate attempt to rid itself of the tequila, which it completely forgot about since its college days. Helen, I can hear my stomach admonishing. You can no longer drink tequila like that. Didn't you remember that those days of wearing boxer shorts out of the house and having no hangovers are over? You didn't? I can find ways to remind you! Remember that Cornish pasty you had at the train station last night? Want to see it again?

Once my stomach actually did oust its nasty unwanted guava tennant, I can tell you-you think tequila burns going down? Try it coming back up. No contest.

I only have one alcohol that I just can't stomach, and that's vodka. I can't take the smell, the taste, or anything about it. I overdid it on a boozy snowy Swedish night in Stockholm about four years ago and haven't been able to touch the stuff since. And last night I came dangerously close to making a lifetime enemy of the tequila too.

Thank God we're still on speaking terms.

Wait-yes.

Oh God.

I think I am definitely going to be throwing up again. *runs to bathroom*

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 09:13 AM | Comments (19) | Add Comment
Post contains 1016 words, total size 6 kb.

1 I was always more scared about the worms! I once had a t-shirt that read as follows: One tequila [perfectly clear letters] Two tequila [little bit fuzzy] Three tequila [quite fuzzy] Floor! [practially unreadable] I always liked it, though I was only 17 when I bought it in America and kept getting teased. Then somebody went and told me about the worm... when I finally got around to it - I nearly threw up. It his the stomach like a jackhammer, doesn't it? Good luck and feel better! ;-P Besides, everybody needs to let their hair down from time to time. I guess you just did it with a vengeance - you probably needed it! P.S. I like being the very first to comment !

Posted by: Hannah at May 12, 2005 11:57 AM (0tNIc)

2 That puts my cold in perspective. *shudder* tequila shots... Things ALWAYS get ugly when tequila shots are involved. Remind me to tell you about the Christmas party where we did a tequila shot for each of the reindeer and Santa in addition to massive amounts of Shiner Bock. That was truly horrific.

Posted by: ~Easy at May 12, 2005 01:03 PM (npJc/)

3 Excellent! I'm really glad you had a night out to howl at the moon after a successful launch! Sounds like just what the doctor ordered. And I commend you on not letting them know about your swish. You would have never lived that one down. Feel better!

Posted by: RP at May 12, 2005 01:06 PM (LlPKh)

4 First off, the clown who said "whatever doesn't kill us makes us stronger" just needs to be shot. While tossing about cliche's... I had always heard the warning as "Liquor before Wine, everything's fine, Wine before Liqour, never been sicker" at this point, might as well shoot that guy too =) I know its a fowl thought, but water is your friend right now As to the swoosh, you might want to keep that quiet, I hear Nike is pretty diligent about enforcing their trademarks, and that would be one hell of a court battle, especially during evidence disclousure... whew! hehe Glad you got to numb the stress a bit, and that everything went well with the demo. WooHoo I think I'll go celebrate too! oh wait its 6am, hmmm

Posted by: Dane at May 12, 2005 01:49 PM (ncyv4)

5 You poor dear! I am sill around still reading you every morning when I wake up. I am glad you are doing ok and had some time to unwind. I hope you feel better soon!

Posted by: Cheryl at May 12, 2005 01:52 PM (q0WlT)

6 Oh, Helen, you poor thing. Tequila is definitely the devil's own drink. Nothing good ever happens with tequila (unless magically masked in a margarita) Your post is bringing up flashes of best forgotten stories of my own tequila debauchery. I hope you feel better soon and, also, congratulations on successfully launched gerbils!

Posted by: karmajenn at May 12, 2005 02:20 PM (fx1A8)

7 ouy vay, it does the same thing to me lol. It really is one of the only things to make me hung over Ya, water, lots of it! And that saying is so true about the wine first thing, for me anyway. Hope you are feeling better soon.

Posted by: justme at May 12, 2005 02:29 PM (QN6ub)

8 Go vomit and then drink a lot of water, and eat something salty if you can manage.

Posted by: armywifetoddlermom at May 12, 2005 05:11 PM (2fxyh)

9 AW you poor thing! Flat Seven-UP works sometimes but its got to be mostly flat otherwise the bubbles can start another run to hanging over said throne. However, I kinda think you needed the break AND after a successful launch, perhaps it was just bound to happen. Suffering afterwards isn't fun though! FYI .... I was so touched and distressed about yesterday's posting that I couldn't comment then. I remember when my best friend and I were pregnant at the same time and she lost the baby. It was awful as she tried to be so happy for me while at the same time I could see the anguish in her eyes. She also had a very hard time getting pregnant and finally adopted only to find out she had gotten pregnant 2 months after the new baby arrived. So hang it there, it WILL happen for you too! Big hugs and hope you feel better soon.

Posted by: dee at May 12, 2005 05:14 PM (sZnML)

10 You poor darling. Worst hangover ever: $5 bottle of tequila, chased with even cheaper orange juice. It took three days for the hangover to go away. I haven't touched tequila since. Here's to saltines and ginger ale.

Posted by: Kaetchen at May 12, 2005 05:33 PM (1nMRx)

11 Water, ibuprofen, more water...etc. You know the cure. I am SO jealous of that phone. I've been lusting for one ever since I saw the first commercial for one here in the states months ago. I'm a whore for expensive cell phones, though. I just can't afford them.

Posted by: Tami at May 12, 2005 06:07 PM (TjhAv)

12 Hey I like your Blog a lot. Your writing is great! I hope you feel better now! Dancing With Tears In My Eyes Matt

Posted by: Matt at May 12, 2005 06:21 PM (HaaP7)

13 Gads.. 1989... Washington DC..Bar called Chaplins (with a neat Charlie Chaplin Theme)... 25 CENT to kill ya shots..... I woke up in a rose bush two houses down from my own.. with about ten of the little plastic cups in on hand... Never.. never again....Not Never.. not for free.. not if ya paid me...Not if you held a gun to my head...

Posted by: LarryConley at May 12, 2005 06:53 PM (F7e7i)

14 I'm sorry to be the one bearing the Reality Check here, Helen -- but having learned the lesson the hard way -- maybe I can save you unneccessary future grief? My experience has been that with every passing year, my ability to 'celebrate' and survive the aftermath diminishes. It's just plain not worth it anymore. It's a slow and relentless progression, starting with events just like the one you describe today. Alas, those Unscathed Mornings After are gone forever. What replaces it is episodic descent(s) into Hell as you try to find the magic mixture that will ameliorate spontaneous lapses into forgetfulness -- and denial. They don't exist. It's called Payback. You've stepped on your liver's last nerve -- not to mention all the other endocrinoligical participants who are pretty royally pissed off at you right now. They'll eventually forgive you. But they'll give you even less margin the next time you heap abuse upon them. Hang in there. Though it seems like it'll never get here, this time tomorrow, you'll have body, soul and psyche back intact...detox'd, a bit charred -- and wiser.

Posted by: Annie at May 12, 2005 07:08 PM (PkJiK)

15 You poor darling. Rest. Hydrate. Repeat. Sometimes, a woman's gotta do what a woman's gotta do. Tequila and all. Been there, done that, and had to beg off golf in the morning. (Asshole men and their annoying metabolisms. Sod them all.)

Posted by: Elizabeth at May 12, 2005 08:07 PM (BAn4z)

16 Don't crash that porcelain bus, Helen. Tequila hasn't been my friend since I was eighteen. Got stupid and had eight shots in one night (not to mention too much beer). I'll spare you the details of the morning after. Oh yeah, I don't drink anymore. Memories of what I wrote above don't make me miss alcohol that much.

Posted by: diamond dave at May 12, 2005 08:19 PM (Qv1Ye)

17 In my late 20's I had a margrerita, chimichanga and spent the rest of the evening in the Ladies room. I learned my lesson. Hope you are feeling better and are well hydrated.

Posted by: azalea at May 12, 2005 08:23 PM (hRxUm)

18 Agave is a harsh mistress.

Posted by: Sigivald at May 12, 2005 11:50 PM (4JnZM)

19 Oh I cannot do Tequila. It gives me technocolor dreams. Icky weird dreams. I can't do vodka either. I over did it in college and now the mere smell of it makes me want to hurl. That was 20 years ago.

Posted by: Boudicca at May 14, 2005 03:24 PM (z7nbM)

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