How This Weeks Conversation With My Hypothetical Therapist Would Go

So, how are things since we last met?

Wellllll, pretty good, besides the fact that I had to make a short pit stop at the hospital Sunday night.

Oh really, what happened?

Let me start from the beginning....

*wavy transition into Teisha's dreamworld*

It started innocently enough, just like any other girl's night out.

There was dinner, drinks, laughter, and talking about people behind their back.

I had a raging headache so I decided to drink my Absolut cranberry a little slowly. (Pinky swears.)

After dinner we crashed a birthday party that ended up being pretty tame and we were on the prowl for wild and crazy that night, so we batted our eyelashes and left.

We ended up at the local bar, where some punk 21ish year old was hitting on me so I decided to notso nicely tell him he should quit his job at Family Dollar and go to school.  Apparently by now the Absolut cranberries were going down a teensy faster.

Then we went up the road to the next town.

The next town?

Yes, doc, the next town.  I live in BFE where we are lucky to have two bars per town.  So, barhopping requires driving to the next town.  Now, please don't interrupt my story again.  Kthx.

The next bar was lame-o so I'm pretty sure we ended up texting each other about how seriously mental the place was.

So, you girls had split up?

No, doc, that's just how we roll.  Duh.  Texting while sitting next to each other is what the cool kids do.

Annnnyyyyywayyyys.

The night was a huge success.

Now comes Sunday.

Sunday was a FAIL.

I will spare you the deets but it involved a vomit marathon that I was losing.  And moaning and groaning.

Come 7ish Sunday night I finally tell Josh I'm dying and we need to go to the hospital.  At first he didn't believe me because *apparently* I can be slightly dramatic but after witnessing the tears streaming down my face and the fact I couldn't walk he changed his mind.

Jump to the longest. drive. ever.

By the time I got to the hospital my hands and feet were numb and I couldn't breathe.

You were hyperventilating, weren't you?

Yes, Mr. Knowitall, I was hyperventilating, but I didn't know it at the time so needless to say I WAS FREAKING THE FUCK OUT.

Sooo, they hook me up with oxygen and tell me to take deep breaths in through my nose, out through my mouth and I was all I'M FUCKING TRYING!

Do you have to use the F word so often?

*eyeroll* Yes, I do.

After I'm calmed down, the male nurse tries unsuccessfully to get an IV in me.  Oh, no problem asshat, it's not like I'm having a bad night or anything.  Try again, douche, I'll wait.

Finally get the IV in me and THREE BAGS! of fluids later they let me loose.  Apparently I was dehydrated and going out and painting up the town is no bueno when one is dehydrated.

So what have you learned from this experience?

I've learned when I have a headache to begin the night, I should alternate water with my vodka.