It wasn't until I walked by the Lo Cost Meat Market on Haight and Fillmore did I want to vomit. I made it to Cafe du Soleil where I sat down with a cup of tea and a ham and cheese croissant. I realized I left my key card to get into the building on my dresser and started crying as loud as I could inside my head because the uphill walk back to my place would be so painful.
When I picked up my card I had to poo really bad - the stinky horrible stench of whiskey poo really got to me and I had to sit down and rest for another 15 minutes before heading out the door. I was 45 minutes late by the time I made it to the office.
I struggled to pay attention to directions of "index this, order that, copy this, blah blah blah." I imagine my body felt like Nigel's right before he's about to diarrhea - he gets the shakes and I certainly was feeling that only I didn't have diarrhea, thank god.
Four hours later I started feeling better. Good thing too since my fifth hour consisted of heavy copying. Heavy copying means, having to make multiple copies of an assload of exhibits and fedexing it in time - retard work but taxing with a hangover.
I triumphantly left the fedex building and headed straight home.
