In my pursuit of power and glory, of becoming the quintessential weekend warrior, of the girl who I have no business going after nor, will she ever be mine, I forgot one small thing.
I forgot about the medicine.
That's why I was voted operative of the week at the Agency this week, cause out of the 3,247,925 things I am forced to remember on a daily basis, I forget the most important. Most, if not all of you are probably still in the dark as to what I am speaking about so I will be a good chap and illuminate you. I have a certain condition which forces me to take several medications on a daily basis. The sole job of one of these meds is to open up my bloodstream and make my body more susceptible to the other meds I take, thus making the other med more effective. Having had this condition for several years, my body has become somewhat desensitized to my meds thus my need for the aforementioned med.
Yesterday I was voted operative of the week by my fellow agents. This dubious honor includes a handshake, a pat on the back and not having to buy a goddamned drink all night at our local post work hang-out. Since having health insurance is a relatively new thing for me, I have been skipping my needed meds so I can do fun things like pay rent and car insurance. Now that I have insurance and can afford all of the meds I need, my body is still readjusting to life in the medicated lane. Normally, I am a soda drinkin' fool. However, during our post work bonding sessions, I will have a few with my fellow workers.
Last night was the first time I have combined booze and my medication since being able to afford it again. Bad, bad move.
I had no idea the beast would be coming for me like he was because I felt no different than I normally do. I drank. I got a buzz on. I got a little drunk. I sobered up. I went to taco bell. I went home. I woke up about 4am and knew immediately I was in trouble. In addition to not being able to stand up straight cause my equilibrium was so fucked up, I couldn't ever remember being more dehydrated in my entire life.
I stumbled to the bathroom, relieved myself of whatever water I had left in me and when dust started coming out of my unit, the severity of my problem dawned on me. I sat on the throne and pondered a solution. I was confident I would be able to come up with something great, cause on the throne is where I do my best work. Water. Water was the blaring neon on the horizon. The 900 foot mirage of Jesus to the withered traveller lost like Moses in the desert. Like consolation to a fucking stupid asshole who went drinking on medication.
I ambled to the kitchen and found the biggest glass with the largest handle I could and commenced the assault on hangover # 3,247. As I turned the faucet on, I felt my stomach switch gears and throw it into reverse. "Brain, this is the stomach. We're not really ready to commence rehydration at this point." I grimmance and swallowed hard. The junk I ate last night was making another run, and I'm not sure it was headed for the boarder.
"Stomach, this is the Brain, rehydration is critical at this point. We need to commence immediatly. Negative, Brain re-H2O is a no-go. I repeat a no-go. Stomach, Brain, this is JackassJimmy, we need to work together on this to get all systems go. Stomach, prepare for beginning stages of re-hydration. Brain, relax with the idea of drinking 200 gallons of water immediately. that is all Jackass Jimmy OUT."
That was at 7am. My world stopped spinning out of control about 3pm. I managed to get down some skinned cucumber slices and a glass of milk to coat what was left of the inside of my stomach. Around 6, there was more milk and a few chips ahoy. It's almost 9 now and I am drinking more water, still feeling sub-human and kicking myself in the ass for once again putting myself through the ringer for some chick I have no business hitting on.