The first night of my summer break occurred on Thursday. If you read my blog yesterday, you know that. And you also know what I wore, so you’re already two steps ahead of the game here.
So, I digress. Summer, night one.
I have to say, I was a little bit too ambitious in how fast I thought I would be okay to consume liquids and I’m going to fast track the story by saying: I drank a lot, and I drank a lot fast.
So, next thing I know, I’m double fisting some beers at the club (my favorite club, at that), which beer, ew. Because beer is so filling and I just shouldn’t have done it.
But alas, live and learn.
Next thing I know, I’m not feeling too great.
Like, that hot panic that shoots up your spine right before something terrible is about to happen. That’s the feeling I got.
I had a Cady Heron moment, I wasn’t sure if it was word vomit or actual vomit.
My friend and I line back through the crowd and once we’re through, I literally run to the bathroom and boom. Actual vomit. It was actual vomit. The second the stall door closes, puke.
I couldn’t believe it. That hasn’t happened to me in a really, really long time, and it has certainly never happened in a public place.
But I paid to get in, I wasn’t about to just leave and I actually felt so alive and ready to go. So, to get the throw up out of my breath, I got another beer.
Your typical puke and rally.
If this is a tell-tale sign of how my summer is going to go. I honestly can’t wait.