I am gunning for the Chairmanship of the Delinquent Caucus

Perhaps this counts for something. It must or this suffering is all for naught.

Last night, one of our board members hosted a lovely holiday party at her home in Newton. It was catered and featured a fairly impressive bar. I felt like a peasant in the King's court. And I did, as a peasant would do. I drank 4 glasses of champaign, and acted like a cretin. We left the party around 8 and caravaned to Club Cafe for a mixer that we had scheduled with the field team of NARAL. For those of you who don't know Club Cafe, it is Cory's favorite gay bar. On Wednesday nights there is karaoke at the bar Cory likes to call "his home away from home". I drank beer and danced around with gay men (Cory's boyz) while my colleagues karaoked. After beer number 4, I informed my party that, welp, it was time for me to go. They actually said no. Like, no, you cannot go, drink this tasty Bud Lite instead. So I did. This happened several times. Finally, I returned to the Space Machine and drank boxed wine with Kallen, and just kind of rolled around his room, like some sort of drunken space worm.

When I got to work today, I had to cancel a meeting with 2 of my coworkers because we all knew we were incapable of intelligent conversation. Instead of having our 2009 planning meeting we went out for pizza and just kind of mumbled at each other. I feel only vaguely human. If this hangover does not pass by sundown I am going to swear off the sauce. No, no I am not. But pray for me my friends, this one is a doozy.