Hello boils and ghouls. I just thought I’d post something really quick since I haven’t done anything in quite a while. Or anything NEWLY written, should I say. In this magically magical post, I’d like to talk about hangovers. Yes.. The asshole from the morning after.
Normal people tend to have normal drinking experiences. Get super drunk, possibly black out, wake up feeling like a bag of death that projectile vomits all over your moms new curtains. This is normal.
I, however, am not a normal drinker. First thing, I only drink girly drinks. My go-to drink at a bar is a White Freezie (it’s super duper yummy, guys) which is (normally) banana liquor, raspberry sour puss, and sprite. I order this every time because I know it is good. If that is not possible, I tend to go for vodka cran. Cause I’m a rebel like that. I don’t drink beer. Wine tastes like balls. Harder liquor can be a bit too much (tequila makes me gag before it even touches my mouth. Mlehhhh.). But these drinks that I tend to enjoy, since they are watered down money grabbing drinks, allow me to drink MANY of them before I start to get drunk. Which is hard on my wallet. Cause $7 a drink plus tip starts to get out of hand at some point.
Now I’d like to point out that I actually don’t usually drink. The last time I drank a lot was when I lived in England. That was like… 2 years ago. That’s forever. But I decided I’d have a go at drinking a few nights ago since a friend was visiting and I promised we’d go to a bar. So we sat for a few hours… 4-6 drinks  and two shots later and I was… well I wasn’t really drunk, honestly. I was slightly tipsy. I’d also like to point out that my drunk self is not reckless, obnoxious, flirty, or a huge cryer. I tend to still be me with a bit more volume and a bit more outgoing. That’s about it.
Let’s fast forward to the next day after about 4-5 hours of sleep. This… this is what this whole post is about. My hangover. As I said, I don’t get normal hangovers. I don’t feel sick (except when I first started drinking… there’s a whole other story with that) and it’s super awesome. What I DO get, however, is angry. Angry to a point where I hope that everyone around me dies so I never have to look at anyone ever again (but not in any way that I’d HURT someone to get to that point. The apocalypse or something would be perfect during my hangovers). Now seeing as I had a friend visiting, I had to continue to show him around the next couple of days until he left. Hangover time meant that I didn’t want to be near anyone. But everyone seemed to want to be near me.
I turned into a velociraptor of anger and was ready to cut everyones eyes out with my claws of danger. This anger even lasted for days. And that is rather normal for me. Honestly… when people try to date me, they need to make sure I don’t get drunk around them, because I will probably eat their faces off within the span of an hour of being near them. I was awful towards my friend that was staying. I was short with him, snapped at him, and my sarcasm levels were moving into the ‘not friendly’ zone. So I mostly shut myself down for the day. Didn’t really talk… listened to music to drown out his voice… all that stuff. I did everything in my power to make sure I didn’t have to talk to him much, yet still show him a fun time, and not be a complete bitch. I don’t really think it worked, honestly. But the angries lasted… I still have them today and he left yesterday. The angries started on Sunday and it is now Wednesday. Atta girl, Steff.
By the end of his visit, I was ready to kick him out of my car while I drove on the highway. Everything he did bothered me. His voice, how he sang slightly louder than the music and ruined it for me, any time he moved any part of his body, any time he looked at me, every fucking time he asked me if I was alright (NEVER ASK A GIRL WHO IS OBVIOUSLY ANGRY IF SHE IS ALRIGHT. Not. Even. Once.), being in my car, asking where we were going, asking any question, being a human, touching my dog, eating, drinking a beer, smoking a lot, moving his suitcases, putting his suitcases in my car, packing his suitcase, not being able to clasp his suitcase together, being slow, having a bag, making me carry his bag while he went to the top of the cn tower, making me wait, going up to the cn tower, waiting in line, sitting, asking to go to McDonalds, asking me what is good, asking what the best of anything is, asking how far it is to drive to Vancouver, asking how long it takes to take a boat across the lake near me, asking questions in general, taking up any room at all, saying words, pointing out cars, saying ‘look at that one’ at every nice car, saying he wants to stay here, asking if I would hide him in my basement, saying he knows a mall better than me, saying he is better at me than anything, really, drinking coffee, drinking chocolate chills from Tim Hortons, wanting Taco Bell, wanting more Tim Hortons, walking, being in my passenger seat, sitting beside me on the subway…
Poking me. FUCKING POKING ME. I hate being poked. I HATE IT.
And that’s not even everything. There were so many other irrational things I started hating him for. And it wasn’t that I legitimately hate him for these things, it’s my ‘hangover’ taking over my brain and making me think I hate him. I’ll get over it in a couple more days.
But yea. This is my hangover. This is… a case of the angries. And this is my life.
Enjoy.
Ramblings From The Offensive Tongue 