Alcohol and stress are a very dangerous duo. While you can certainly have one without the other, when you mix the fuel of alcohol with the fire of stress and throw in a few extra ingredients like a handsome guy's number at the bar, along with the false sense of confidence that I was speaking about last night...
Well then, you have a recipe for one hell of an explosion. But more about that later...
I wake up to the sound of the alarm on my phone and one hell of a headache. I reach my hand out to grab my phone from my nightstand, knocking it onto the floor in the process.
"Ow shit!" I murmur as I shuffle my entire naked body to the side of my bed. Yes, I sleep naked. There is a feeling of freedom when sleeping naked. You should try it.
I just pray that nobody ever breaks into my house while I'm sleeping because I'll have no defense... Aside from the baseball bat lying by the side of my bed, that is.
But then something tells me that a hundred-and-twenty-pound naked white girl coming at you with a baseball bat in the dead of the night wouldn't be all that scary to a man with a gun.
That's not to say that I wouldn't hold up my end of the fight... I just don't ever want to be in that situation.
So, where was I? Right... I'm sitting up on the side of my bed. My feet are on the floor and I'm rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Have you ever actually Googled what that sleep in your eyes actually is? Do it! I dare you...
Anyway... sitting... on the side of my bed. Ahem! That annoying ringtone going off repeatedly. I should really change that stupid thing! I lean over and pick up my phone to see one of the consequences of the dangerous alcohol and stress duo...
I slept in past my first three alarms. Yes, I have exactly ten minutes to get to work!
"Shit! Shit! Shit!" I blurt out as I jump out of my bed quicker than that superhero that can travel faster than Superman!
I run to the other side of my room collecting pieces of clothes that neither a) smell, b) don't have food or any other stains on them and c) will make me look presentable to the other drones at work.
Meanwhile, Zachary Binks is sitting on the chair watching my bed with a fierce look on his face. Need I remind you? He's my Turkish Van and not some creepy stalker ghost!
I dress quickly and run into the bathroom to check myself in the mirror. I pull my hair into a ponytail and adjust my makeup as fast as I can. Doing my best to rid myself of the smoky eye remnants that last night's shower did not wash off.
Right now, I look a lot like Uncle Fester from the Addams Family, only with hair.
I run into my kitchen, prepare the coffee pot and dish out a gourmet cat breakfast into Zachary's bowl. But that silly cat is nowhere to be found.
He must still be in my room, the same place where I will find my shoes... and an extra surprise that my drunk-self thought that I deserved...
"Zachary?" I call out as I make my way back to my room, "Zachary Binks! Zachary! Come and get your breakfast!"
I make it to my room to see not only my Zachary... But also what I for a split second thought was some creepy stranger standing between me and my baseball bat of a weapon... and he is holding my baby!
He also bears a striking resemblance to that Rockstar from last night, only he is very naked... very very naked! "Who the hell are you and why are you naked?" I yell, meanwhile pulling some crazy stance that probably doesn't look too much like Karate Kid's ready stance as I hope it does.
