This past weekend, I had some friends over to hang out by the pool in my apartment building. I thought, “This will be a great day! It’s Rob’s last Sunday in L.A. and Kelsey lives here now and all of us are going to be hanging out and having fun with our friends!”
Except, when I got outside, a bunch of people that live in the building were already out there blasting Beyonce and techno and having some sort of dance party that we were clearly not invited to. They most definitely did not want us to be there. They were wearing really tiny Speedos and blasting their music louder and louder to try and push us out, but despite our music being more terrible than theirs, we eventually won.
I didn’t have the money to provide us all with alcohol and food for the afternoon, but Kelsey brought over a bottle of champagne and a package of uncooked bacon and we got to partying. We never actually ate that uncooked bacon… but I did just remember that I have uncooked bacon in the fridge! Dinner is served tonight!
We spent basically all afternoon outside during a very hot day and every time my glass was empty, I’d fill it up. I ended up throwing back enough bubbly to make me bubbly. (No? That sounds awful? OK Cool.) But I always forget from the MANY bad experiences that I’ve had with champagne that there’s something about it that always makes me want to, oh… I don’t know… vomit anywhere and everywhere.
In my friend’s sink at a New Year’s party. During the walk home from a company holiday party. On the floor of my bedroom while I was asleep and didn’t know that I was puking. Good times.
Immediately after retreating upstairs (after beating out the gay dance party, it got pretty boring out there) we all immediately PASSED OUT. We started watching The Simpsons but then Kelsey and Beau fell asleep on the floor and I fell asleep on the couch and Rob left us all alone because he didn’t drink and felt just fine.
We woke up and immediately ordered wings because our heads were pounding, our eyes were tired and our bodies felt weak and in need of something more awful than champagne/alcohol to balance it out. There were also zucchini sticks or as I like to call them “zuck sticks.”
Sometimes, when I drink during the day on a Sunday, I feel awful at the end of it. I almost always take a nap and as a result, I almost always feel like I wasted an entire day. The weekends are precious. Sundays are precious. I should treasure every moment of beautiful free time! But sometimes, you just have to drink all day in the sunshine with your Los Angeles-based friends and live like you’re in the opening scene of the movie Clueless.