Crappy Mother's Day

Where's my french toast scumbags?

Seeing all the Mother's Day posts on Facebook about everyone having a great day and being made breakfast in bed - I'm like "So what?", or the more bitter "good on you", or the downright mean "fuck you, show off".  I got squat for breakfast.  Today was crap.  In fact, it was worse than an usual day because I had to deal with the same shit, only today, I felt like I was entitled to sit 'round eating cream buns (and didn't get to).  Plus I had a hangover. That really changes everything.  When this unfortunate occurrence happens while you're trying to look after two half-insane dwarfs  - you say "never again", and you almost truly mean it.  And it can be more than 2 months before you do it again....rather than two weeks, and in even earlier years, two days.

No two ways about it.  Hangovers are fucking hell.  Luckily this time  round I avoided my usual dose of alcohol poisoning.  But it's touch and go.  Drinking for me these days is like playing Russian Roulette.  For example, I typically wake up feeling blurry and dry in the mouth and I can't concentrate on what I'm doing, and often fall out of bed.  It can go two ways, and it's always a surprise.  Will I make a fast recovery and ten minutes later be sipping on a latte, laughing over who said what, while reminiscing how nice those cocktails were?  Or will I have to make a bolt for the toilet, and half spray the wall with chunder after I spot the dregs of a gin and tonic on the bench, and then not speak a word to anyone all day.  Painful moaning does not count as conversation.   It's always an unpredictable outcome, and does not always correlate with amount drunk.  Odds would be 50:50 if bets were taken.  But as I said, I could instead enjoy chatting with my delightful houseguest about how much fun we had last night.  And yes, the cocktails were yummy.

Cocktails make me happy

A little messier but not so unmanageable

For this very reason, I managed to get a prescription for anti nausea tablets from my doctor.  The only issue is, that when I'm in the state where it seems necessary to get one into me quickly, I inevitably end up puking it up almost immediately.  How long it manages to swim around in my stomach bile before making a hasty exit, has a direct relationship to how much better I feel.  As you would imagine.  Those babies can absorb fast when there's not a lot inside to slow down proceedings.
I had a nurse-friend who, upon waking and feeling like she was going to actually die from over consumption, used to inject herself in the thigh with the liquid form of those magic tablets.  Brilliant strategy really, even if it does make you feel a little squeamish to imagine carrying out the dastardly task.  It works though.  Really well.  At times like those, how bad does self administration of prescriptions intravenously really seem?......Don't answer that, you will only incriminate yourself.

For someone with as low a tolerance to alcohol as me, it's pretty shameful that I have continued to hammer myself as long as I have.  There's been a few memorable hangovers - like the time I actually  had to check myself into the Byron bay hospital to get an injection so I could stop vomiting.  This was particularly shameful at staff changeover time.  The departing nurse walked down the line of beds explaining each case to the newcomer; "This young man here, copped a surfboard in the eye this morning while taking underprivileged kids surfing.  This man hammered his hand while building a house for his grandmother.....and THIS young lady had a few too many drinks at the Great Northern last night".  That was a low point.  Perhaps almost as low as when I tried to struggle through my Parisian hangover and go sight seeing, and was overtaken by violent convulsions and was on my hands and knees heaving in the gutter of the Champs-Élysées - the fanciest street in Paris - and arguably the world...... It happened outside Prada.  I'm all class, what can I say.

How do you say - "I shouldn't have had absinthe" in French?

In Israel, getting really retarded on alcohol is typically looked at as bit pathetic.  There is barely any issues with under age drinking, and very few displays of public drunkenness.  You are looked on like that embarrassing relative who gets inappropriately inhiliated at every family function, and people feel sorry for him because he's such a dickhead.  Yep.  I have been that dickhead. In fact I am that relative.  I just had that revelation right now, and it's horrible.  The last time I inflicted the wider public with my horrendous drunken antics, was last New Years Eve. This was in Israel, and it's not called New Years Eve, instead "Sylvester".  Slyvester refers to the anti-Semitic pope who's saints day happens to fall on NYE.  Unsurprisingly, "Slyvester" is no giant piss up in Israel, as it is the the rest of the Western World.  But let's not let a trifling detail like that stop one from drinking dozens of shots from two bottles of moonshine.   Luckily, all my partner's grown up nieces and nephews were drunk enough to semi join in, or I may have looked downright foolish singing every song from the Sound of Music at the top of my voice in the streets, rolling all over car bonnets, scruffing strangers, biting a hippy's dreadlocks and running away (seriously, I wish I was joking there), not to mention yelling and carrying on like a knob.  While I might have almost got away with it twenty years ago - at nearly 40 it's pretty shameful.  Apparently there is video evidence.  Apparently it's damming.

It seems like fun.....

All Yasmin's fault

Yep, getting uglier

The question remains - how can I release this to the general public?

The aftermath of that stupidity has scarred me.  And come to think of it, probably my children.  After all, it's not everyday you see your mother huddled naked over a toilet at 6pm, making the scariest noises you have ever heard, because her stomach is completely empty, yet she cannot stop heaving.  The last thing you, yourself, want to hear coming from behind you at that very moment, is a little voice saying "Mummy?".  You then turn around to see your curly-haired cherub standing there holding a teddy with her blue eyes full of tears.  Yep, that one's going to cost a lot to get resolved on the therapist's couch......

But whereas Israel finds public drunkenness silly, Australia finds it annoying, and America finds it criminal; Japan instead tolerates drunk idiots with compassion.  What other country can you imagine the cops giving a collapsed drunk a lift home after checking his license for his address.  My first week there, I was shocked to see an old man passed out on the top step of a flight of stairs at a train platform.  People were just stepping over him.  I thought he'd had a heart attack until I spotted his work colleagues pointing and laughing.  I then realised that no one (no matter what happened in WW2, Granny), could be that cold hearted.  Then, there was the young man I saw at 3am, still in his suit and holding his brief case, trying to walk through Shibuya train station.  All he could do was walk up and down on the spot with his eyes closed.  At that rate it could have taken him two weeks to get to platform 11, and I wanted to give him a little push just to help him along.  But it's better not to get involved.  I found this out the more unpleasant way, when my sister and I spotted yet another collapsed drunken businessman lying face-first on the footpath.  His hand was outstretched, and just beyond his open palm lay his mobile phone.  We lent over to pop it back into his hand, and that's when the smell hit the crowd.  Let me tell you, waking up in the morning in a crowded street, in your suit, with no phone, and pants full of poo is no way to start the day.....I often wonder how the poor bastard negotiated his way out of that one.....

But luckily I was not struck down by a nasty case of the chucks this morning, and was free to clean up play dough all day....Perhaps I should have faked it,  just to get a few precious minutes longer in bed....Next time I'll know better. I guess there's nothing left to do, except finally go to bed and pray, as I do every night, that my children don't end up like me.....

It's not looking good......