Being this hungover does not feel good.
I feel like I've been hit by a truck, and the truck is called Lychee Martini or Mystery Drink With Lemon Peel. Like death warmed over. Or something worse.
My friend Erin and I thought we would spend yesterday evening having a girls' night, drinking some drinks and wandering around as we wanted. What an excuse for total excess. I now want to die.
Of course, today I'm going to a wedding with an open bar. The gesture is lovely, but I think I would sooner get hit by a real truck than drink again so soon.
Sorry for the short post, but I need to crawl downstairs now.