Lola Gets Effed Up

Wednesday I left work sick. I was in some pain and just couldn't do my job to the best of my abilities. I went by the doctor's office and was gifted with a small prescription of Vicodin. I have never had Vicodin before. And actually I've never been much of a drug user. I may now and then abuse a little Xanax but hey, I'm a high strung type girl. It's better for everyone if I take the edge off. So I come home, pop a Vicodin, and proceed to talk shit on the phone to a guy I know for the better part of an hour. I was saying some really awful shit that should cause God (if there is one) to smite me down immediately.

I spent the better part of Thursday alternating between pain and drug induced insanity. Let me tell you, I was in so much pain that after I showered it took me 3 hours to work up the energy to get dressed. I just lay in the bed like a sick, little slug. I finally gathered the energy to go to work. Jesus Freak Boss had called to give me permission to stay home but I could tell from the sound of his voice he really wanted me at work. I went and bitched the whole time. I worked the whole time on no pain medication so by the time I left I was not a happy little Lola. As I was leaving work I popped another Vicodin. I figured it would take me thirty minutes to get home and all would be fine.

About ten minutes into my drive home the cell rang. Some friends were going to one of my favorite restaurants and wanted me to join them. I knew I shouldn't go but my favorite dish beckoned me. By the time I got to the restaurant I had forgotten my pain; sadly I had also forgotten the popped Vicodin. The meal started with sake. Always guaranteed for a good buzz. At some point I ordered a Mango Manhattan. It is simply a Manhattan with a shot of mango liqueur. I love mangos. It seemed like a good idea. The problem is I loathe brown liquor. Just the smell of it makes me want to Exorcist vomit. I guess maybe I thought the mango would cancel out the brown stuff. I ended up getting a boy (not The Boy) to drive me home and his friend followed because I was adamant about not leaving my car at the restaurant. They should have made me walk home but that's another story. Let's just say I was a complete bitch about leaving the car. Of course A Boy might have the tiniest crush on me so I played it for all it was worth. God, I'm evil. Really.

So now I sit here with a waning buzz filled with pain. Looking up weirdo websites for a sort of friend of mine and wishing I had just come straight home. I'm afraid to take another Vicodin because you really shouldn't drink and take them. I know all the cool kids eat them like Pez but just this once maybe I don't want to be cool. Go on, tell me I deserve the pain. Just this once I might admit you are right.