Don't Drink Pear Vodka

That's my warning to you all. That shit is tricky. Let me walk you through my day. It starts at 3pm at Zena's house for a bbq that's going to last all night. It's T's birthday, so the celebration is on, and I show up with 2 Mickey's for me and one bottle of Pear Absolut for the party. I finish my first forty in conjunction with the end of the first basketball game, and am crushed that Georgetown loses. But I know that all of that will be erased if Florida succeeds in knocking off UCLA.

At this point, it's early yet, and the party is myself, Jessie, Renee, Zena, Tiff, T, Blair, and a few others. I start my second forty as the second game starts, and people start to show up in numbers. As UCLA goes steadily down the tubes, so does my forty, and the joints start kicking in. It's at this point that I get to meet Haley, X's ex, and I start to feel a little loopy from the combination of the substances I'm downing like there's not going to be a tomorrow.

The night wears on and the party is packed now. Christina shows up from work, the couches are moved and a dance party ensues. At this point I break out the half of the Bonne Sante sandwich I've been storing in the fridge (prosciutto, bacon and thousand island dressing sounds about right)and chow into that. I'm approached by a few smokers, Julia included, and luckily I came prepared with a strawberry swisher. It's blunt time in the city.

This is where my night disappears. Someone begs me to do a shot. I explain that I am not a shot taker. They tell me it's really easy, very tasty, and I should try one. Not being one to disappoint, I do. It tastes like heaven. I ask what's in it and am told that it's pomegranate juice mixed with pear vodka. I'm enthralled. I've never had an easier shot in my life. This kind of thing should be illegal.

I convince Aliza that she needs some too. I'm told this morning that I force feed both of us somewhere around ten of these things. Not so good of an idea. I don't know how I get outside, but before I know it, I'm standing on the steps outside Zena's door, and much to my surprise, I'm throwing up all over them.

Now usually, I can backtrack and pinpoint a cause of throwing up. A shot didn't go down well. I coughed so much that I threw up, I'm too drunk. I remember the feeling of needing to throw up and make it someplace safe. Not this time. I have no idea how I chose the spot, how I got to the spot, or what triggered me. All I know is that Renee is rubbing my back and I can't stop puking. So. Fucking. Gross. However, while I usually hate it, I remember this as being cathartic, even telling Renee several times "oh that's better, I think I'm done now," before starting in again. I'm not sure how we get back to Christina's house, but I'm sure a cab had to be involved. I'm told that she needed to undress me because I passed out on top of her bed in all my clothes.

Today, I feel like a truck ran me over, then backed up for seconds. Don't trust that pear vodka...it'll taste and feel like you're drinking a Clearly Canadian, and then hit you like a brick when you're through. In the shower, I almost lost it because my shampoo smelled like pear. There is currently a pit of confusion where my stomach used to be, and if my headache goes away sometime in the next two hours, I'll consider myself lucky.

Big apologies to the neighbors who had to find that on their stairs this morning, and many thanks to Zena for hosting, T for having, and the rest of the revelers for attending what was a most excellent house party. Hopefully I'll be sober in time for Tuesday's opening day festivities. If you don't know, I recommend asking somebody.