Last night, Biff and I went to Bastille Days. It was basically WAY too full of people (lots of very drunk people who couldn't walk and who kept on bumping into me), hardly anything french at all, and just not our speed. We really tried to enjoy the festival--we even caught the end of the act by Marcus Monroe (*who went to my highschool) which was amusing, since he was juggling flaming torches on top of a unicycle while wearing a helmet that was shooting off sparklers--but the music was obnoxious and loud. So we ended our sojourn to Bastille Days early, and walked home via the lake.
We stopped to sit by the lake for a while, but there was a man who was yelling at his CD player sitting near us, so that was unnerving enough to cut short our walk.
On the way home, we decided to pick up a bottle of white wine. So Biff selected a very nice white wine from California--I have absolutely no recollection of what kind it was, in case you're curious, I can try to write it down & post it tomorrow--and we went home and put it in the fridge to chill for a while. I sliced up some of this gourmet cheese that my dad gave me, and we poured the wine into these nice little wineglasses that Biff brought with him when he moved, and so we enjoyed "vin et fromage."
But holy SHIT, I will never understand how people can pack wine away so easily. My gosh, after 2 correct "serving sizes" of wine (as far as I understand servings of alcohol, 1 shot of hard liquor is the equivalent of about 4 oz. of wine which is the equivalent of one beer), I was incredibly tanked. 3 sheets to the wind! All aboard the wine train! woo-woo!
And this was while I was savoring the wine with the tasty cheese, no less. It hit Biff pretty hard too, since we were watching 20/20's "The Myths of Summer?" and cracking up at pretty much every single one, from "Do Blondes Have More Fun?" to "Are Fake Tanners really Worth the Money?"
This morning, I woke up with what has to have been the most severe hangover I have ever yet had in my young life. The heat couldn't possibly have been helping anything, but I woke up feeling like a bunch of rowdy artistes francaise had taken up residence in my brain overnight and thrown a big party right behind my left eye socket. Uuaagghrr. I took 2 excedrins (I'm out of advils), but any suggestions for getting over our night of francophile fun would be greatly appreciated.
(*and yes, I'm still suffering from this hangover at work, today)