Well, I'm under stress. Much more so than last semester, unforch. My reflex to stress is to clench my jaw, and I've started to stuff my mouth with cotton balls in order to stop and I feel like The Godfather (he was probably under *a little* more stress, i'll give him that).
So what happens when on Thursday night I finally get my chance to release said stress via channels of alcohol and friends? Well....before I know it, it's 5:30AM and I'm at Gerardo's playing Rock Band, not putting in my best performance given my level of inebriation. And though the party continues, I decide to be "responsible" and go home because....I have to wake up at 7:30. A.M. to teach. And as I depart, KarrieAnn tries to give me a little nugget of advice: perhaps it would be better if I just stayed up. Nonsense! 2 hours of sleep is plenty.
Turns out, it's actually not. I sleep through my alarm (at least i think i remembered to set it....) and wake up at 10.
Essentially, I haul ass to my class, and there are like 5 students still there, waiting for me like little birdies who fell out of the nest and were waiting for mother. God it was depressing. And I felt/feel like a prize idiot. The worst part is, it's completely obvious why I missed class. I mean, you can't just, like, stop the scent of booze from seeping out your every orphis. You can't just pretend not to be completely disoriented with the world. You can't force your appendages to synchronize their movements as you stutter a lame apology.
These are the lessons I learned on Friday morning. That, and perhaps I should consider skipping the after bar parties every now and again; specifically when I have to be a functional being in the morning.
*side note*: On Friday night, my hangover and I had a date, and we decided indulge in a few culinary pursuits to pass the alcohol free evening, including crossaints, which turned out okay, and BAGUETTES which turned out f*cking fantastic!!! I'm officially the best cook in the world in my own mind .