(Flames! On the side of my face!)

Ugh, I feel ill. I had a bunch of deadlines this week - a critique yesterday, a presentation to give today, and all my slides and statements for my first program review due today. Everything went fine. I had been dreading the presentation; I hate speaking to more than, like, three people at once. I considered it successful, because I did not stutter or fall down or emit any weird squeaking noises like I sometimes do when I have to speak publicly. (My voice cracks when I’m nervous, like I’m Eddie Haskell or something.)

So then, in honor of being done with all that crap and being able to slack off for a bit now, I decided to make a huge batch of my infamous Chicken Salad™ tonight and watch Clue. I wanted my SuperFriend to come over and join me, but he said he was in a bad mood from his coffee shop job going badly and wouldn’t be good company. (Aw, he’s moody, just like me.) So I was alone with my cooking and my Clue.

Except…there was also wine involved. I had two glasses of wine and then I got hungry again, so I ate again. Then I drank a wine cooler. Then I think I ate enough Cheez-Its to qualify as Meal 3. AND THEN, the movie ended and the little ending credits song played - you know, Shake, Rattle, and Roll - and I was drunk enough at that point that I got up and danced to it. To the whole thing. I mean, I was twisting away, alone, with the dog watching. Then I collapsed on the couch and felt like ralphing, because Tons O’ Food + Tons O’ Liquor + Twisting = BARF.