A Certain Flavor of Hangover

Woke up on friday at 12 something. With a beautiful blossoming hangover. My frontal lobe had been making mad dashes for the front of my skull for hours. At least thats what it felt like. Shuffled to shower on noodles of legs. Played at keeping balance for a bit before i bashed my head on the wall. THIS was a good hangover. This was a rum hangover. No queaze or aches. A dull blade in the front and back of the skull and your head tethered to a balloon. Body on a narrow balance beam. 

I stood there as my hands wrinkled remembering the drinking game, the trashy movie with screaming japanese men in leather jackets, the zombies. The lost count of shots down my throat. My friends laughing as one by one we all laid on our sides and sleep, and in my roommate's case vomit, found us and made friends.

Lurching back up the stairs to my room i dressed for the elements. A hangover like this should be enjoyed outdoors. Crisp but sunny. 

Once downtown i bought my first cup of coffee for the day. Sipping, humming. This was a day for adventures to thrift stores and record shops, to great strangers pets. This was a hangover like no other. So i set out on my journey, dragging my feet with a smile on my face.

-LM

sigh and swoon

And as always, it's about a girl. This one is like many other funny, intelligent, and fills my torso with butterflies when she laughs. 

Thinking of beginning a scavenger hunt like courtship. Though it might not go swimingly since I've previously expressed interest in her to stuttered excuses of "I'm a boy destroyer" and "I can't i'm your boss."  

Oh right. Yes she was my boss at the time. But simple details change.

The scavenger hunt goes like this; I write her a series of notes such as:

 "Sus ojos brillar como amatista

   Su risa persisten en mis oidos como una caricia"

She'll have to be a sleuth and translate them. But since i like you guys i'll tell you what it says

"Your eyes shine like amethyst 

your laughter lingers in my ears like a soft caress"

mmm nice and mushy yes? Or perhaps strange. I've been told i am.

-LM

Fumes and dead braincells

Today as i was jotting something down on a clipboard at work, a woman walked up with a question. 

"Could you look up a book for me?" she inquired 

"Certainly," I replied pleasantly, "title or author?" 

She thought for a moment.

"Well I was looking at it on the internet and it began with the number 20. I know it just came out."
My eyes widened in amazement at how this woman found the stairs to my shop. She DID seem to know left from right.  

"20? alright," i punched it into the computer which promptly brought up around 6,000 entries. "hmm," i said scrolling down, "any other parts to it?" I asked as pleasantly as i could maintain. 
"It had facts in the title too. Could i look at them to see if anything rings a bell?" 

"Why sure!" I answer through my teeth. I try not to strike her and wait for her to reach the right conclusion, best she arrives at it herself.
After a few minutes of scrolling through the myriad of titles beginning with 20. She sighs.
"Maybe I should look it up and see what the full title is."
"THAT is an excellent idea ma'am," I say. Thank angry jesus she finally got it. And walked out. 

This was the finishing touch to a long brewing epiphany, it was at this point in time that i fully understood why otherwise reasonable people chain smoked. Swallowing down puff after puff. Each butt flicked away like an empty shell casing. They do help, really. To keep from putting a bullet in yourself on impulse.