on the plus side, i get to watch "old school" now
August 23, 2003, 11:02 am

Ugh.

My head is pounding. The bags under my eyes are so dark, I had to check to see if I hadn't become a raccoon overnight without my noticing. My breath smells somewhere between that inch of Miller Lite left in a can that your buddy has been ashing in all night and the cup of Diet Coke you bought from McDonald's three days ago and is still in your car. I think if George Clooney stormed into my house right this second and DEMANDED that I have sex with him, I'd say, "No thanks; I'd rather go sleep for about 48 years until the rhythmic pounding of the jackhammer in my brain subsides, but thanks anyway."

It all started innocently enough. I was at school cutting out letters and using the laminator and emptying boxes and all sorts of related teacher preparation crap when I suddenly realized I was the only person left in the building. At 5:30pm. On a Friday. I was supposed to meet Brettski at our bar at 4:00 with the rest of the red and white school crowd. Oops.

Being alone in your place of employment has its temptations, sure, but being in a HIGH SCHOOL all alone without any supervision practically begs you to do all the stuff you've never done. I was torn between photocopying my ass and tacking it up on my "Announcements, Auditions, and Etc." board and smoking a cigarette while urinating in the stairwell when the mood struck for cheap Happy Hour priced beer, so I just settled for hauling ass to the bar.

When I arrived, most of the teachers had gone home to cry in their pillows about the start of the school year, but Coach Mike, Joshy, Brettski, Doug (the groom) and Lenny were all there to hang out with me. I started with a bomber of Miller Lite and that wackiness ensued for an hour, during which I drank three of them. (For those of you doing the math, that was 72 ozs. of beer I drank...mmmhmmm, you know where this is going, don't you?) I was giving Lenny winning numbers for Keno, so he kept buying me drinks.

I should have learned by now to keep my mouth shut when I've had a little too much sauce. Let it never be said that I learn from my mistakes.

I was chatting with my pal Dougieboy and casually mentioned that I may have "accidentally" hooked up with one of his buddies at his wedding reception.

Actually, the way it came out was, "HEY! DOUG! GUESSH WHOO I BANGED AT YOUR RESCHEPSHUN?!"

Doug thought it was Brettski, so I dropped the bomb about that guy.

Doug started laughing. A lot.

"Whatsh sho funny, huh?" I yelled.

"Uh, Jess, dude is married. Has been for three years. He and his wife HATE each other. That's hilarious."

Great. Just fucking great. No ring, no MENTION of the wife or a girlfriend, and no one there ran interference. Let that be a lesson to our studio audience at home: don't skank it up at a wedding reception with ANYONE because s/he is probably married.

After Doug reassured me for about twenty minutes that he wasn't mad at me and that it wasn't my fault because I didn't know, he invited me back to his new house to continue the party. I staggered over there at 9:00 and drank and laughed with Doug and his wife til 4:00am.

I also dipped for the first time, and let me tell you, that's not an experience I want to repeat. If I want a dry mouth from having to spit so much, I'll visit the dentist, thanks. Gross.

So that brings me to this morning. I am in hell, officially, and I'm going to sleep it off. I think I can hear my brain cells dying.