I am not a good drinker. Which is to say that I can barely have a drink or two without meeting with the devil named Hangover the next morning.
Yesterday was particularly BAD. I did not make it out of my pajamas, I slept three times. And I moaned. Out loud. To the ceiling. I might never drink again. EVER.
Here’s what I think, my particular hosts for new year’s–very old, and dear friends–and champion entertainers, did a stealth job of filling my glass up. I did a stupid job of not noticing. RESULTS: NEW YEAR’S MISERY.
Today I woke up with a stuffy face, and general malaise-ish feeling. Oh joy, 2016 is coming in like head cold. Happy new year, readers. Wishing you a year of fun, delirious joy, activism, tolerance, adventure, love, & not Donald Trump. xo