� Memoirs of an Evil Genius �
Conquering the World, One Martini at a Time

� Weekend Part One: The 100-Meter Hangover Dash �
11:13 p.m., 2003-09-08

So I generally don�t write on Sunday, but since I missed my usual Friday night installment (for reasons detailed below), I felt I ought to update tonight. It was rather an exciting weekend, all things considered (well, except for those long stretches where I wasn�t doing anything -- don�t consider those and my weekend was amazing), and I felt the need to share.

On Friday night, I went to a welcoming party for a friend who recently moved to L.A. It was supposed to be a surprise, and of course I got stuck behind a mini-van going 8mph through the center of Hollywood, so I was actually running extremely late when I gave a panicked call to N (who was arranging the fete), asking what I ought to do. I mean, no one wants to show up concurrent with the Guest of Honor at a surprise party, particularly one that�s BYOB. What the hell are you supposed to say? �Oh, hey, I was just in the neighborhood with this bottle of gin because of�charity! I�m with�Booze On Wheels! I mean, I didn�t even�is this your neighborhood? Why, I thought it looked familiar but�wow. So, I�ll race you to your apartment; just gimme a head start!�

I actually managed to get there, and park in a safe-until-7:00-the-next-morning spot, with enough time to head the Guest of Honor off at the pass, so imagine my consternation when I couldn�t find the damn house. I mean, I found the address, but someone changed the friggin� house since the last time I�d been there. Picture, if you will, yours truly marching up and down the block, lugging a bag full of merlot, and staring in befuddlement at a Modern Colonial that was supposed to be a converted Split-Level. Eventually I realized that the little �S� on the street sign meant I was on the south branch, rather than the correct north one.

Even with all that, I beat the Guest of Honor, because they didn�t show up for another hour and a half, by which time most of us regular guests were already half in the bag. The party itself was way fun, but I couldn�t seem to sober up afterward (which is incredibly shameful, given that I�d only had two and a half drinks), so I allowed the guest of honor (who needs a name, so we�ll call her Tracy) to talk me into crashing there. I made sure she knew I had to be up by 7:00 to move my car, she assured me I would be, and we hit the sack.

Cut to: 7:45 the next morning. I woke with a start (and a really bad hangover), and almost had a heart attack, because I really can�t afford to be bailing my car out of the pokey right now. I leapt out of bed and dashed out the front door, racing back to my car, and singing out Hallelujahs the whole way when I saw that although every other car on the street had been moved (by a bunch of stuck-up, goody-two-shoes drivers, no doubt), and mine was the lone offender left parked there, I had accrued nary a tow, ticket, or dreaded Boot in the 45 minutes of my illegal parkitude. I jumped in and started up the car.

That�s when I discovered that running when you�re extremely hung over? Is a very, very, very bad idea. First my head exploded all over my nice, clean upholstery. Then my brain got struck by lightning a couple times, and lava started pumping through all the arteries in my head, while the veins all knotted themselves off. I started crying because of how bad my head hurt, but the crying made it worse, so I had to stop. Then I had to drive home (into the sun, sans sunglasses), where I sat on the floor of the darkened bathroom next to the toilet and waited to throw up.

And on that note, I think I�ll go to bed now. Tomorrow, we will discuss the rest of Saturday, which involved me looking like ass (as is my wont, when hung over) and running into�well, someone.

Someone Got Here By Searching For: handjob massage And: evil bathroom lady the shining I�m Watching: My brand new, shiny Alias DVDs. I�m Also Watching: Um�what �also�? I�m watching my Alias DVDs, man.

� 2005 by Dr. No, all rights reserved; you break it, you buy it.



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my next adventure: Weekend Part Two: We've Got to Stop Meeting Like This. No, Seriously.

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