Luck O' the Irish!

WHAT A TIME! 7th annual St. Paul St. Patty's Day Pub Crawl commenced. Mind you, I haven't even been of legal age to drink for 7 years, but this was indeed my 3rd year on the crawl. And - big news - the first year I've actually stayed out until bar close.

The point here, friends, is that the pub crawl starts at 11 am. 14 hours later, I got home.

Friends and I woke up early on Sunday - starving. Jimmy John's did not open until 11, but you better believe they had an online order waiting for them, circa 10:15 am. I almost hugged the poor high school senior when he delivered it to me. My BFF was very excited that she could finally prove that someone else lived in the house, not just her and her Turkey Tom, no tomatoes but with cucumbers.

However, pre-Jimmy John's - the WIBFF (Wisconsin Best Friend Forever) started talking about her boyfriend throwing up the night before. Yes, I was hungover, but this definitely didn't bother me. Even when she talked about how he threw up on her. However - then she mentioned brushing her teeth, and I immediately gagged. Just the thought of shoving something down my throat seriously made my mouth all hot and wet (and not in the good way, but in the I'm going to throw up and if you're in my way I won't hesitate to throw up on you way) and I had to rush to the bathroom to get it all out.

This would be the first time I've puked from drinking in 2009. Brava. This would be the 3rd time I've puked from drinking in my life. However, I puke swallowing pills and thinking about brushing my teeth, or even just thinking about puking or thinking about brushing my teeth. Just writing this is making me gag a little.

Maybe I need to see a therapist.

Plus the big stupid fundraiser this past week is done, and now I can move on with my life... until I have to continue it this week at HCMC.

Just keep swimming...

Or running, or staying awake and not falling asleep at your desk because you've worked 3 - 16 hour days in a row and are so distracted by work that you fall asleep thinking about it, dream about it, wake up thinking about it, and think about it in the shower to the point of being so distracted you wash your hair twice because you can't remember if you already washed it.

I've decided to take control. I'm going to get back into reading trashy romance novels before bed so that, at the very least, my dreams can still be my own. And Lucky Stetson, the Texan who will be visiting my dreams after I'm done with the next book.

So far its working really well. My blood pressure is down, I don't want to kill my boss, I don't care that my cubicle is outrageously messy, and I am not grinding my teeth in my sleep.

Let's hope it keeps up through the busy summer of work.