Yuck.
I should have known today (Sunday, that is) was going to be a write-off. I woke up at 8:15am and realized that I had to be at work by 8, and then became even more confused when I noticed that I was still wearing my clothes from the night before. But hey, who needs pyjamas when you've got drunk?
So I rolled into work late, toothbrush in hand, and proceeded to lie on the dirty bathroom floor for the first hour of my shift while I cursed the day St.Patrick was born. The new guy was working with me (poor confused fellow), so every few minutes I got up and did things with coffee until I was forced to take refuge on my favorite bathroom floor again. We opened late, needless to say, and I absolutely REFUSED to make any Irish Cream coffee whatsoever. On top of all this, just when I started to feel vaguely alive, I ate peanut butter by accident (using the same knife to cut a bagel as someone else) and was headed for the bathroom once more.
Random memories from last night keep flashing through my head. Pints swimming in front of my face, foamy green beer froth at the bottom of a pitcher, spinning in circles with the room. I get vague flashes of some guy whipping his dick around on the patio through the window, screaming "Come on, girls! YOU LIKE IT!" I don't think I even flinched.
Even if all I got out of this weekend was a whole lot of hangover and post-weed frenzy, I think I'd call it a fine accomplishment (despite the hell that was this morning). I have no problems with the fact that I got nothing remotely school-ish done. I've pretty much given up on handing in quality work in class. That way I don't feel so guilty writing bullshit the night before. And when I weigh out the pros and cons, I'd much rather be wasting my time.