HUNGOVER PORTLAND

Lazy Sunday.

Last night was one of these kinds of nights:

Warm late summer night in my friends' beautiful back yard, watching friends play music, drinking beer and white russians, holding hands, playing with fireworks and light.  It was totally one of those feelings and atmospheres you wish you could capture and revisit whenever you wanted. 

Today I have been lazy and happy.  I've baked three kinds of bread.

This Sunday evening is too pleasant to do anything else on my computer. 

I hope everybody else is enjoying these last gasps of summer.

xo

Hangover memories part 7 POSTPONED.

It has been a busy day.

I'm impressed I did six days in a row.

This should hold you over until tomorrow.

Hangover memories. Part 6 of 7.

I still have a headache after having so much fun last night.  Mr. Joneser is now picking up a pizza; I only have a moment to write.  This lazy stumble down hazy memory lane will have to be brief.

New Year's day 2005.  I lived with my brother.  I'd gone out with him and many friends the night before, got wasted, blah blah blah.  His then-girlfriend later told me I'd tried to smoke my lipstick and then fell asleep in the cab.  Typical!

Hangover memories. Part 5 of 7.

At some point in college I accepted that it is possible to smell like alcohol even hours after you quit drinking, and when you consider yourself sober.

But sometimes I still need a reminder.

Hangover memories. Part 4 of 7.

I graduated from college and settled in Portland five years ago.  I spent a few months working to get Bush out of office, then lined up a real, permanent job which began on November 1.  I was new to the professional world, and that particular field, and felt totally freaked by my responsibilities.  But I also felt like "holy crap, I'm 22 and gainfully employed PARTY WOOOO!!!" 

So, you might remember November 2, 2004 as a big election day.  I left day two of my non-election jobby job in high spirits about the campaign I'd already dedicated so many hours to.  As the evening wore on, I drank more out of fear and sorrow than of joy.  A boy I met on the election and was trying to make out with had to basically carry me out of My Father's Place.  Classic, classy Joneser.

Hangover memories. Part 3 of 7.

Two of my best girlfriends have birthdays within a few days of each other in November.  The first year that we all lived in Portland, we had a huge rager to celebrate it.  Both sets of parents came with huge amounts of gourmet food. Tens and dozens of friends showed up with beer and dancin' shoes.

Wackiness ensued.

Hangover memories. Part 2 of 7.

I don't really smoke pot.  I have many, many times, and love my friends who enjoy it, but I've realized over the years of feeling self-conscious and wacky that it isn't my kind of sensation.

Many friends of mine insist it helps a hangover.  I swore off smoking weed with a bad hangover in college.  It is one of two times that I've puked the morning after excess.  It was a memorable hangover.  Let me share it with you.

Hangover memories. Part 1 of 7.

The other day I stated that I'd kick off a week-long trip down hangover memory lane.  It sounded like a better idea then.  Now it is a late lazy Sunday afternoon.  I am dehydrated and happy, watching my boyfriend prepare burritos in the kitchen, and not especially feeling like writing.  But I'm doing it anyways.  Hangovers are self-punishment; I should do something I don't want to. 

I'll go ahead and start with a major one.  Champagne, that fucking backstabbing slut, was involved.

Derby day!

One too many beers last night!  I slept in!  Now eating egg sandwiches and heading shortly to the Adult Soapbox Derby!  See you wackos there!!!!

Check it:
This is my bf's summary from last year.

The week of mystery hangover ripoffs

This has been a fairly busy week in Joneser land, both personally and professionally.  And it's been hot out, right?  I've made the obvious decision to enjoy a couple brewdogs or glasses of wine each night this week.  I'm not partying, just relaxing.

So imagine my fucking ripped-off dismay when I've been waking up with a headache each night this week.  Two beers?  Two fucking weasly little beers give me headaches now??  Aw HELL no.  Being 27 = lame sauce served on disappointment with a glass of wasted youth.

I think after the Monday hangover, drinking the rest of the week was just to prove the anomoly.  It was a kind of stupid idea born from my inability to accept my aging liver.  Christ, I'm no scientist; instead, just a lady who has been squinting an awful lot at work.

I haven't bothered to blog up each individual event, because none seemed worthwhile, but this is day 5 AND Friday and I'm looking forward to finishing a busy week of work stress and pansy drinking by getting hammered at some friends' band's show.  [I'd hyperlink to it but bar not in internet?  Oh shit, I'm so underground.]

Anyhoo, a couple of radical things also happened this week.  They are inside the computer jump.  Click for success!