I have finally learned my lesson. Everytime I'm out drinking someone always suggests a tequila shot. When you are wasted this seems like a good idea. IT IS NEVER A GOOD IDEA.
Of course I had to learn this the hard way (of course we musn't forget my first experience with the poison, freshman year where I spent some intimate time with a garbage can on the streets of College Park).
I went to church on Easter Sunday extremely hung-over (It was only fair, I was really hung-over on Passover as well). I sat in the pew with my head spinning and my stomach churning as waves of nausea ebbed and flowed. You never realize how many times the priest has the nerve to keep asking you to stand up and then sit down again. And kneeling... forget it. This was it, my ticket straight to hell, do not pass go, do not collect $200, this is the express train. As the priest came by, sprikling holy water on everyone, my brother leaned over and whispered, "Does it burn, Sarah? Does it burn?"
Bastard. I think I'll remind him of the time in Florida on our family vacation where he threw up all over the hotel room (4 people in one room) and in each and every one of our shoes. First, he wanted me to take the blame, that I got out of my bed and threw up all over him. When I refused, he tried to tell my mom, while my dad is still sleeping, that my dad did it. My dad may be a lot of things, but he is CERTAINLY no two beer queer and it is not often that he throws up. In the end my brother tried to blame it on "bad Doritos," a thoroughly convincing explaination.
Oh yes and we have two new peacocks as the other two ran away. Peacock eggs are also incubating in my dining room. Is it a problem when you have to ask your father what kind of eggs we are hatching this time?
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