The baby on the bus goes waa waa waa

<Sigh>

It's Monday. Again.

I think my desk is quite possibly the last place on the entire earth that I want to be right now.

In fact, I almost called in sick this morning.

Which is saying a lot because I haven't used even 1 of my 10 sick days this year.

Do I feel like shit? check.

Could I have used a couple more hours of sleep? def.

Would anyone die if I missed one day? noop.

But then I felt guilty. This shitty feeling is a self-inflicted residual hangover, and I don't speak of my hangovers lightly. I don't whine and complain and pretend that the world is ending unless I really think it is. And yesterday, it was.

I should have seen the two red flags. After the horns barely squeaked out a win over Nebraska, we had to celebrate. Celebrate big. Thus started the shot-a-thon formerly known as Saturday night. Don't get me wrong, I love a shit-crazy party, but I had already resorted to chugging Boones Farm by 5pm. I really had no business doing multiple rounds of tequila and jager shots, not to mention my nemesis, Rumple, who ended my night with a bang. And by bang, I mean an utter black abyss in which all memories after 1:15am now reside.

Wait, you were drinking Boones Farm? Fuzzy Navel I do believe. I then did pulls of vodka straight out of the jug with one of our guy friends' mom. That's probably why I thought it was a good idea to try to sneak beer into Jerry World. Unfortunately, the beer started to slip as I was walking in and I was forced to do a grotesque imitation of a pelvic thrust in order to keep my Keystone Light from tumbling onto the sidewalk. At that point, I was asked to remove my coat and it was confiscated. Damn.

But boy oh boy is Jerry World fun. We bought those nifty little party passes (mainly so I could afford toilet paper this week instead of stealing it from the office bathroom) and party we did. By the 4th quarter we were enjoying tequila in the concourse level bar. Of course, then my life flashed before my eyes as the Cornhuskers rushed the field and started celebrating. I was standing in front of a tv, dumbfounded for about 5 seconds, and then the longest string of profanities I have ever let escape from my lips flooded into that bar. I'm a small person, but at this point, I would have feared for my life had I been a Nebraska fan within 15 feet of me. Luckily for those poor saps, we got our 1 second back, kicked a field goal, and declared ourselves Pasadena bound. Hunter Lawrence, I hope you got some serious action Saturday night.

If not, give me a ring. I'll show you how real women treat their men--with vanilla frosting and sprinkles (holla at muh gurl whitney, nice find)! 

I was sunshine and roses after that. Typical.

On to the bar!

It should have been a red flag when I was so thirsty at the bar that I could feel my throat closing up. But who needs water when you have ice cold beer? Not me, that's for sure!

Red Flag no. 2: Waking up feeling somewhat okay....and then thinking you will remain in that blissful state. Little did my still-drunk body know, it was about to bombarded with the hangover from hell.

Imagine eating bad Chinese food. Now, imagine that on the way home, you got hit by a gigantic truck. Enhance exponentially. I wanted death to come knocking on my door.

He did around 5:30. I have a fear of vomit that actually exceeds my hate for over-use of condiments. Unfortunately for me, crouching on the couch with my knees pulled to my chest was  no longer preventing the bile from rising up in the back of my throat like lava flowing straight out of Hell's volcano.

Analogies are fun!

I'm 24. My relationship with my toilet is way too close for comfort. And until this morning, I hadn't showered for 48 hours. 

That, Aunt Ida, is why I don't have a boyfriend to bring to Christmas dinner.

But besides almost dying, I didn't mind my Sunday night.

I actually spent most of it YouTubing videos of Tear-bow crying his poor little eyes out.

Tearbow for Criesman!

Particularly enjoy this version featuring Johnny Cash's "Cry, cry, cry."

And then of course I tuned in to watch the Bullshit Computer System determine who would be playing in this year's bowl games. 

Of course the Fiesta Bowl upset was all anyone could talk about on various social media throughout the rest of the night. And I was right there with everyone else. I like TCU. My dad is an alum, their mascot is the horned frog, and they wear purple. What's not to like? And I love me a good underdog.

Or underfrog in this case. rrriibbitt.

UNTIL....

I log into my precious facebook account and see all these TCU peeps knockin Texas and saying my boys don't derserve the ship.

Excuse me?

Well hey diddle diddle, the frog done think it got kissed and turned into a prince.

Looky here TCU, and read my lips very carefully.

SUCK IT.

You can just get on your high horse and ride all the way to Arizona for your measly Tortilla Chip bowl.

I'll help you out with this since your team hasn't gone undefeated in 71 years and your BCS experience may be a little rusty.

We are no. 2 and you are no. 3. Although we almost lost, we didn't, so we get to stay at no. 2.

Regardless of how you think you should be ranked, this is the way it is, so sac up and move on.

And lest we not forget, SEC actually stands for Sucking Everyone's Cock, which is the only explanation for the man-tastic SEC love fest that manifested itself in the system at the beginning of time and just won't go away. SEC = herpes.

So, in short, you can take your bitter stick and pummel Cincinatti with it. Because we all knew Florida would get the Sugar bowl, and you were robbed by a bearcat.

So even though I want to take those two crippled fingers and break them in 2 places......

I still hope you win, because you are better than Boise State.

Good luck TCU. 

Hook em horns.

Tebow is a big fat crybaby.

Someone call the waambulance.