was what fell out of his mouth in a jumbled slur. Scott adjusted his hat, steadied himself on the bar and looked at his intended prey expectantly, as if this comment was going to score him some major points. Clearly not amused, Jenny rolled her eyes, tousled her blond hair, and looked bored as she took a dainty sip of her vodka and diet.
Ignoring the drunken fool staring at her, she turned to me and uttered: "Why do I feel like we're babysitting right now?"
At that exact moment Scott's twin brother, Ryan, snaked his arm around my waist and grinned at me like a hyena. I inched away but as the edge of the bar pressed into my back, I realized there was no where else to go. It was 9:30 p.m.
We were a half hour into a four hour open bar. It was a Saturday at Duffy's and the place was filling fast. If I didn't move soon I would be locked into this spot for half the night. I sipped my glass of Riesling and contemplated how to get rid of Ryan as I watched him dance by himself to a 50 Cent song, fingers pointing to the sky, feet shuffling along on the floor, hat slightly askance and eyes more than a little bloodshot. His twin soon joined him in a weird and honestly quite awkward display of two men in their mid-20's dancing a little too closely in a bar where no one was remotely intoxicated.
Jenny and I took the opportunity to walk away. We saddled up next to Manny, the birthday boy, and began chatting with him and his friends.
Before I knew it, there was that arm again, slipping around my waist, and Ryan looking at me with watery red eyes.
As I pulled away and pushed simultaneously, he began his drunken tirade: "You are so cool. Have I told you that? You are the coolest girl ever. And the best. And I love you. Did you hear that? I'm in love with you. Do you want to come back to California with me?"
Sigh.
Jenny and I literally pushed these two idiots (who would not stop staring at smiling at us) into each other and told them to have a dance off...with themselves. It was like Night at the Roxbury. I've never seen anything so sad or so....embarrassing.
These two then forgot all about us and began challenging each other to a dance competition. Look what happens when you go to a bar with your twin to watch football at 4, end up drinking the place out of business, and decide to stay for the nightlife fun.
Truth be told I was at Duffy's only days earlier for the Turkey Trolley Trot bar crawl. I spent that night alternating between being quite drunk and stone sober. Let me tell you, that in itself is a bizarre feeling.
At the end of the bar crawl Wednesday we ended up at Duffy's and Martise and I gorged ourselves on bacon wrapped scallops and shrimp (note: Martise threw this all up 1.5 hours later in a dark alley). David, Shoe's ex boyfriend and our old college buddy, showed up and I haven't seen him in about a year. Guess what happened when I saw him? Same thing that happened at Pints in Bucktown a few weeks ago. David walked up while I was telling a very elaborate story that involved hand gestures. Just as he goes to say hello, I turned and my hand struck out faster than Chuck Norris' feet when he delivers round-house kicks to the face, and connected with glass. I watched in horror as David's Rum and Coke connected with the floor in a puddle of lost liquor and shards of glass.
Cue awkwardness here. "Oh...hi David...how are you? Er...sorry I just knocked over your drink. I actually did that a few weeks ago let me buy you another drink (note: just made the situation even more awkward)"
Silence for a few seconds... "Oh it's no problem, don't worry about it. I'm doing fine by the way."
Right.
Flash forward to Saturday at Duffy's, and I seem to think that drinking wine all night in an open bar is a good idea when in fact I was about to poison myself beyond all belief.
I should have drank Rum and Cokes, or Vodka Diets, or Miller Lites. But no, wine wine wine. That's what I needed to have. One-thirty in the morning and then nothing until 10:30 the next day. Quick check and yes, everything is back with me in my apartment. The only thing I'm missing is my memory from 1:30-10:30 the next day and what I talked about for 5 minutes in a phone call to one of my boyfriends from high school at 2:30 a.m.
I have to confess something. You may not believe it, or want to believe it, and trust me I wish it wasn't so, but my hangovers work in reverse. I will wake up feeling pretty decent, just tired and beaten, and perhaps go back to sleep or chug some water and take a few Advil.
This past Sunday the reverse hangover caught up with me. Each passing hour brought more and more misery.
11:30 a.m.: chugged two glasses of water, took an Advil, went back to bed.
11:50 a.m.: threw up, went back to sleep
12:00 p.m.: texted Ken and asked him to come over at 1:45 instead of 1:30. I needed more time to get ready. Laid sideways across my bed trying to ignore my queasy stomach and pounding headache. Just sleep some more, and things will be fine.
12:30 p.m.: Mom calls. She is extremely jolly and is extracting our 10 million pounds of Christmas decorations from our crawlspace and wishes I was there to help, and asks if she woke me up. I don't deny it, but thank God my mom cannot see me laying in bed with my arm thrown over my face with the shades drawn. Mom chirps that she cannot believe I am still in bed when I need to be getting ready. Mom, that can wait. Back to sleep.
1:00 p.m.: text Ken again, ask him to come at 2:00 p.m. Need more time.
1:10 p.m.: go and throw up. again. more water, more sleep.
1:30 p.m.: drag myself into the shower, try not to think about getting sick.
1:40 p.m.: get out of the shower. get sick.
1:50 p.m.: take out the trash. i don't want to say why.
2:00 p.m.: Ken arrives in full Bears gear, and very excited. I try not to think about throwing up, or how hungover and ill I am. sip some more water, chat with Ken on the couch.
2:15 p.m.: excuse myself while Ken is in mid-sentence. run to the bathroom, get sick.
2:30 p.m.: eat a piece of bread, become grateful that it goes down without a fight.
3:00 p.m.: arrive at Soldier Field, meet up with my dad at our seats, get the once over and field questions about my plight.
*Watched the game, and try not to think about getting sick or how I was freezing to death.*
-End of 1st quarter: walked around the concourse to distract myself from getting sick.
-End of 2nd quarter: knew that I was losing my battle with my hangover. I was reaching the peak hours of the reverse affliction. Couldn't bear telling my dad the truth, told him I was getting food. got sick in the women's bathroom of Soldier Field. Lost some dignity as well. Picked up some fries to make it seem like I told the truth.
-End of 3rd quarter: so cold, and all 3 of us decided to abandon ship and go home. So did a lot of other people. I couldn't have stayed the entire time even if it was warm.
6:00 p.m.: arrive home and turn on the television and watch the rest of the Bears game. It was one of the most exciting games I've ever seen. I didn't get to see the entire thing in person. Dammit. At least I saw Devin Hester return for a TD.
7:30 p.m.: ate a few measly bites of pesto tortellini, drank a glass of water.
9:00 p.m.: decided liquids were safe again, drank a glass and a half of lemonade.
10:30 p.m.: threw up, went to bed and whimpered as my dehydrated self fell asleep.
Other highlights from the past few days:
1) Thanksgiving at my parents with the cousins, immediate family, and aunts/uncles. Feeling that warm holiday feeling. Watching Home Alone and drinking beer.
2) Having two turkeys: one regular style, one deep-fried. If I could put into words my love for deep-fried turkey I'd say _________________________________.
3) Listening to two teenage girls talk to each other the dressing room at Macy's tonight as I tried on dresses. They took pictures of each other wearing every dress they tried on, and at one point this was the conversation.
Girl 1: "Um...you know you have to wear a bra with that dress."
Girl 2: "Jessica, what are you talking about?"
Girl 1: "Yeah that's too scandalous, even for New Years. You need a bra."
*cue voice of utter disgust* Girl 2: "Jess, wearing a bra with this dress doesn't even make SENSE."
and then
Girl 1: "Why do you have a picture of a 40 year old guy on your camera?"
Girl 2: "That's my friend Jason. I hooked him up with Lauren. You've met them."
Girl 1: "Oh right. You're such a matchmaker. Thanks for hooking me up with someone. Maybe no one likes me because my face is too orange. Do you think my face is too orange?"
I could go on.
4) and final highlight: So far this week at work I've managed to maintain a steady headache/borderline migraine and feel nauseated. Either there's something in the air at that place or.....?
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