Lort...

Jesus.

Went to my company Christmas party last night, fully intending to only be there an hour or so like I do every year and apparently ended up staying nearly the entire time. They gave out awards periodically throughout the night and I wound up getting employee of the year....

*staring into the camera*

Figures. It's not like I didn't earn it - I totally deserved that shit - but I think the bosses got wind of the fact that I was leaving and it was an effort to placate me. I mentioned at some point yesterday that I wasn't feeling too good and might not go to the party and one of them basically threatened [jokingly] to rain hell on my entire department if I didn't LOL. Now I get it.

So after I win this award, which actually was in the first hour or so of my being there, everybody and their mama suddenly wants to do shots with me. I DONT DO SHOTS. But I did them last night. Total setup.

I don't remember leaving the club but I do remember standing on a corner somewhere trying to find my Uber. This is the thing; the party was in Manhattan and I live in New Jersey. I only intended to take the Uber to the PATH station about a 5 minute drive away. $48 dollars later (according to my receipt) I done took the shit ALL THE WAY HOME LOL. Fine. In my apparent condition, it was probably the best thing I could have done.

I wake up this morning like okay, I'm home, in my own bed, BY MYSELF LOL, good. But the last thing I remember is waiting for the Uber. I get up and my son is giving me that look a parent gives a child the morning after that child stumbles in after their first night of horrible decisions and he's like "You alright?" The conversation that follows includes a hilarious flurry of walking into walls, mumbling undecipherable somethings and throwing my keys on the kitchen floor LOL. In the process I find my dress on the floor of my room and my coat, which clearly has seen better days. There is vomit all on it. Of course, I start looking around at that point, but there is no trace of any vomit anywhere else and I don't feel the grossness that comes with having vomited the night before so I put two and two together and come to the nastiest conclusion one can muster..... somebody threw up on me. Disgusted. Totally. The only thing worse is the thought of the office on Monday, where I will no doubt get bits of shit I said or did that are completely unbecoming but will, if nothing else, help me piece together the rest of the night. But at least I can take comfort in knowing I didn't go home with anyone, didn't actually throw up myself and even in a drunken stupor, I still made my way safely home.

The miracle in all this shit is that I am not the least bit hung over. I can't imagine, for the life of me, how I'm not after 3 jack and cranberries (no ice) and at least 4 shots of fireball and tequila, but I'm grateful. That hangover would be HELL. So thank you to the liquor gods for having your girl's back and thank you to the Uber angels who take care of pitiful party-goers like me at their worst. Don't remember the guy AT ALL but how could I not rate him 5 stars after that? LOL

SMH.