January 02, 2006

How did I end up drinking soap on new year's eve? Well, we were at the Dina Martina show, where she (Dina Martina) had been setting off those little bottles things--you know, pull the string, pop?--and on the way out there was a big bowl of them, so I filed away a couple for midnight use.
      OK, then it's midnight and we're at Andy's Diner, taking in Lushy and Buttersprites, and as the clock ticked down to 2006, I pulled on the end of one of bottles, only to get a stream of liquid running down my arm. Ah, so it must be a little bottle of champagne, I thought, and took a long swig of it and, ACK! Bitter! Burning! Horrible! Soap for blowing bubbles is what it was. A moment of horror quickly followed by more gin and tonics to dilute the soap. Great idea, right?
      New year's day I am flattened, destroyed. I have followed all the anti-hangover rules. Fatty food beforehand. Chasers. Water between drinks. But I am suffering a special, evil hangover with special, evil superpowers. Instead of getting better, it actually gets worse as time goes by. About 4 p.m. I finally puke, making primal barking sounds into the toilet like a Viking. A truck driver cave man Viking possessed by the devil. And I taste that soap for the second time.
      That's how I started 2006, and I am only now starting to feel like a human again.