Hungover. No title. June 15, 2007

It was a bagel (everything, toasted, cream cheese) and Gatorade kind of morning. It will most likely be a pizza afternoon. 
 
My poor, poor body. I get engaged and what do I do to it? I fill it to capacity with alcohol and food, night after night, in celebration of the diamond ring on my finger.  
 
Tonight is no different. Different set of friends, different bottle of champagne. “But I’ve gotten loaded every night this week. Every night!” is not going to fly. Because the proper response to that is: “But you haven’t gotten loaded with us. Happy engagement!”  
 
Monday was Italian and sangria. Tuesday, Asian fusion and mojitos. Wednesday was Mexican and margaritas. Last night? Japanese barbeque accompanied by pitchers of Kiran. Tonight is steak and I would give anything to get away with just a Diet Coke.  
 
“Hi Clink? This is your liver. STOP BEING AN ASSHOLE.” 
 
My Gatorade is now warm, but I’m still sucking it down, hoping that it will do what it says right there on the bottle and replenish some electrolytes. I don’t know what electrolytes are, but I hope they are somehow instrumental in making this headache of mine go away. 
 
I need to stop drinking. There’s a fine line between Fun Drunk Clink and Mean Drunk Clink and last night I crossed it, picking a fight with M for no reason and then erupting in tears because I started a fight! Less than a week after we got engaged! (Liver: “I repeat, STOP BEING AN ASSHOLE.”)  
 
I didn’t post yesterday and I hesitated posting today because the only thing on my mind is the engagement, but I don’t want this to turn into Such Great Heights: All Engagement, All the Time! I still want to write about other things. Like, um. Right. The weather? The sun is back! Hoo-rah!
 
No? Ok. What about the evil person I work for - think Lumbergh, but younger and more hipster and EVEN MORE OF A LOSER. Luckily this project is quickly coming to a close because if I have to hear one more “Yeahhhhhhh, sooooooo….I was thiiiiiiinking…” It’s gotten to the point that when he talks to me, I barely look up from my computer for fear that my superpower death rays will spring to life after being dormant for 25 years and then I’ll have to go to jail for homicide and they probably won’t let me keep my ring. 
 
I’m excited for this weekend. M has been working and I have been drinking and the quality time has been reduced to “I love you, goodnight” at one in the morning. It’ll be nice to have some time to spend with him, that fiancé of mine. (Sorry, I’m trying to incorporate the word “fiancé” more and more into my daily vocabulary in hopes that one day, hopefully soon, it won’t sound so goddamn weird.)  
 
So that’s all! Hungover Clink is trudging through the day and Drunk Clink has one more celebration, for now, to get through. And then she is being laid to rest, in peace or in turmoil who really cares, for a very long while. (Liver: THERE IS A GOD.) (Me, to Liver: Dude, with the all caps? Really? Let’s take it down a notch.)