Martinis + Empty Stomach = Not Good

Yes, that maybe something that should have occured to me before I pounded 5 French Martinis down...but it didn't. It did however, occur to me after I was sick for most of the night.

Now, normally I wouldnt post this story because well, I dont want stories of myself sick and drunk flying around the net...but something happened that night that in the end, could only happen to me. So let me start at the beginning.

A group of coworkers and I went out for drinks on a fateful Friday night. I hadnt eaten because 1) it was Friday during lent and everything in front of me was made of meat and couldnt prepare for the night of intoxication and 2) wasnt planning to do all that drinkin'! This bartender was making these martinis that were so yummy and I was wrapped up in some conversation that I just kept drinking..and drinking...and...well you get the picture. We opted to move to another bar and as we were getting ready to go - I stand up and realize...damn...I had too many martinis.

So off we go to another bar. And there I am - drunk walking down Hollywood Blvd. I turn to Rozi and we were just having a grand time looking at the people (yes, I know the irony that I was laughing at someone else). And I stop and say "I want to talk a picture!" then I find my prize - Vin Scully's star. It was perfect! The Dodgers had just started their season and it was in the air to do something spontanous. So I lay down and proceed to hug Vin Scully's star, on Hollywood Blvd, on a Friday night, and I'm drunk.

Now, you would think that the infamy of that night would stop there because really...what else could go wrong right?

After she takes the shot (and I'm still on the floor laughing my ass off), I hear "PRIMA?!?" Which means "Cousin" in Spanish. Yup, my cousin is at his part time job of parking cars and I happen to pick THE ONE SPOT that he would be at to do this. He comes over and helps me up and makes a wisecrack about my state of mind. I hug him and walk away...knowing full well that he's going to call his sister, who is going to call her mother in Guatemala, who will call my aunt in New York, who will most definitely call my dad here and tell him what happened. CRAP.

So we make our way to our watering hole and I sit down to try to calm my stomach down. Meanwhile, one of my cohorts makes a wisecrack at the bouncer and she's no longer welcome in the bar...while another coworker tries to sort it out we are all asked not to enter the establishment! I havent even had a drink inside and I'm already being kicked out? WTF?

After some smooth talking and some ass kissing we are let in...and I head to the restroom to make my peace with the porcelain god.

The next day, I had to fess up to my dad what happened. I would rather have him hear it from me than from my aunt. But what do you suppose happens? HE CALLS MY AUNT TO TELL HER! Damn him.