Disclosure: Usually, I try to separate my drunk life from my internet life in order to bury the evidence of misspent youth, but this drunkeness derived from my mom’s birthday party so I figure that’s cool (drinking with your mom falls under the category of family time, not drunk time). Anyway, going straight from work with no dinner and lots of bourbon and champagne collided into an epic hangover this morning. But many deadlines and screening of the new “Footloose” meant calling in sick wasn’t an option. Plus, I could function, I was just nauseous. Really, really nauseous.
I decided to cab it to work because I felt like my stomach was trying to escape out of my throat. Ultimately, that was a terrible idea because it just made me feel worse. About a half a block away from my office, I had to spew, I wasn’t going to make it. So I ducked onto a side street gagged for a bit and threw up.
While I was puking, a woman and her little boy passed me because that’s just how life goes when you have an epic hangover and all you want to do is curl up in bed and possibly self-decapitate. As I was picking up my dignity off of the street where I just threw up, the mom doubled back and asked if I needed any help.
In my extreme embarrassment, I took one look at her kid. He was so sweet and adorable and I didn’t want her to have to explain what “hungover like a motherfucker” means. So I blurted out, “Actually, it’s morning sickness! It’s hitting me pretty hard.”
The woman laughed and responded, “Honey, I’ve been there. Four pregnancies, you get used to it.”
Then she started giving me tips on how to cure morning sickness.
When I was walking away, she called out “Congratulations!”
So, that was my morning.
For the record, I am not at all pregnant. At all. Ever. No.
