Last night was fucked up.

Also, I barely remember the first half of my morning today. I don’t think I had underwear on, but I know for certain that my bed was completely soaked with urine. So, that was just fantastic.

My final memory from last night’s reception is sitting at my parents’ table with Mom and Aunty Kelly. My next memory is waking up in pee. The weirdest part was that my family barely seemed to be fazed by any of it. There was hardly even a comment on my behavior this morning. Just a quick, “How are you feeling?” to which I responded that I was fine. I was experiencing that typical morning-after burst of energy that precedes the impending doom of my Hangover Blues.

There was a knock at the hotel room door. It was Cousin Jake, coming to say goodbye. Uncle Jack and Aunty Kelly were already downstairs, waiting to go to the airport and catch their flight back to California. God only knows what that poor kid witnessed last night. Mind you, it was probably similar to me jumping out of bed in my underwear – which I had finally decided to put on – and then running over to Jake and giving him a hug goodbye.

This kid’s probably straight. And, bear with me, as I’m disregarding the fact that we’re cousins. But, if a 95% naked 25-year-old man did that to me when I was eleven, I would cherish that memory forever. Maybe that would have been my “Yes, I am definitely gay” moment. Either way, I’m sure this morning’s goodbye was a moment Jake won’t be forgetting any time soon.

Soon after my underwear moment with Jake, I made a comment to Phillip about something. I can’t remember what it was about. Phillip responded by telling me that he didn’t need to see his brother naked as much as he does. So, I guess I was naked last night? That doesn’t really surprise me.

Okay. Two really quick tangents for a second.

Since I don’t ask for full details of my blackout nights – mostly because I’m embarrassed, or simply don’t want to know – sometimes stories are told months, or even years later. By that time, I typically find my substance abuse pretty funny. Usually the person telling the story does, too.

I say this, because the family was driving somewhere a week or two ago, and Phillip was telling me about our flight back from Europe in 2014. You know, the one I was blackout drunk on after I conned the flight attendants into giving me too much free wine. Phillip started laughing, because something I did in the car that day had sparked his memory.

Apparently, at one point during that mess, I was pissing off the lady seated in front of me. Phillip said that I wouldn’t stop talking, and the woman kept making these passive aggressive sighs and “be quiet’s” under her breath. Phillip then told me that I had slurred to the woman, “Lady, you need to cool it!” How fucking funny is that? I was dying when I heard the story. I had no idea!

The second tangent is about me being naked. Full disclaimer: I don’t set out to end my nights full beef, nor do I love the idea of stripping down in front of my family as often as I have in the past year.

Natasha and I were texting this morning. She’s going in for her long-awaited boob job tomorrow, and was telling me how she’s excited about the confidence that her new titties will likely bring to her. Natasha then brought up my surprise birthday party at Casa Z last summer. You know, the one we were both naked at. Natasha reminded me of something that I had said about the whole thing afterwards, which was along the lines of:

“I’ve spent most of my life really ashamed of my body. Embarrassed and overweight, and I’m finally at a point where I have worked really hard to build up confidence and be happy with myself. Big fucking deal if I got naked! At least I don’t feel the need to swim in a t-shirt anymore.”

I know that declaration of confidence struck a chord with Natasha. She told me that’s how she wants to feel about herself, and I absolutely understood where she was coming from. It’s an awful feeling to be ashamed of your own body, and want to hide yourself for fear of judgment. I’ve come a long way, but still know that feeling. As such, if my best friend wants to find her confidence, I want to encourage, support, and help in any way that I can. I’m excited for Natasha. Everyone deserves to be happy in their own skin. Life is too short to live otherwise.

Okay. Tangents over. Back to today.

When Phillip mentioned me being naked last night, he also added, “I don’t need to see that.” Naturally, a statement like that then set me off on a Valerie Cherish The Comeback moment. I really love that show!

Given the way I woke up this morning, I needed some time to get my life together. Mom, Dad, and Phillip left to go to the Walkers’ for brunch, and were going to come back and get me later.

After another breakfast in bed, a cocktail of pills, and twelve Snapchat videos later – which sparked a ton of messages and responses throughout the day, both because they were hysterical and because I was in my underwear – I got dressed. Soon after that, Dad and Phillip picked me up at the hotel, and we drove over to the Walkers’. That was when my hangover hit me like a fucking brick wall.

As soon as I dragged my ass through the Walkers’ door, I saw Oliver.

“How are you feeling?” he asked with a chuckle.

I gave my standard response to such a foolish question: “I’m fucking screwed.”

After no more than ten minutes of social interaction, and looking at a large spread of food that made me want to vomit, it was clear that I was in no condition to be in public. I escaped into the TV room, but kept the door open as to not be a total recluse.

Two minutes later, I was joined by my second-cousin, Lyssa Carson, who had to breastfeed her three-month-old baby. Yes, Lyssa Carson has a fucking baby. When the hell did that happen? It was actually nice that Lyssa came into the TV room, though. It meant we could close the door and have some quiet time. I didn’t care that Lyssa had to breastfeed. I told her I wasn’t leaving.

Man, that baby was fucking hungry! It spent almost an hour on Lyssa’s tit. During that time, Lyssa and I talked, caught up, and I asked her a ton of questions about the baby. I’d never held a baby before, and I asked her if I could. I figured since I was sitting on a soft couch, it was a safe space in the event that I dropped the thing. It was so cute. Oh, my God. I mean, mine will be cuter. But, still. So adorable!

The day progressed, and my hangover slowly subsided. Eventually, I was able to eat something. I was also physically assaulted by an army of rowdy children throughout the day, but that was still better than having to interact with adults.

The crowd thinned out after a while, and I became a bit more social. Nobody really gave me a hard time about my messy night either, which was fucking fantastic. They all just said how great my speech was, and how it was weird that I was totally fine the whole night and then in the last 30-minutes or so, I was completely gone. That’s very typical of me, though. Usually my alcohol hits me all at once, and that’s when I’m done for the night.

After watching a lot of TV, Dad, Phillip, Evan, Oliver, and I went to Villa du Souvlaki for dinner, which was really fun. Typically, I never take part in those types of all-male outings. I really enjoyed it, though. We had a great conversation, and talked about a ton of different things. Naturally, my drinking came up. However, they all found it pretty funny. I’m sort of smiling right now, actually.

Listen. I know my binge drinking is certainly not a good thing. But, looking back on some of my drunken adventures, they are fucking funny. What people don’t realize is that I’m actually quite responsible, somewhat serious, and very uptight when I’m sober. However, I’m a complete fucking mess when I drink. Personally, I think the contrast is what makes it funny. Anyway, it was nice that the guys didn’t shame me for blacking out. The Vargas girls were long gone, and Aunty Judy and Uncle Walter were at the Walkers’ house, so I didn’t have to worry about that.

The Villa crew returned to the Walkers’. We stayed for a bit, but then Dad got antsy to leave. We went back to our hotel soon after that. I was excited to collapse on my bed for the night.

Well, imagine my surprise when I realized that housekeeping had rolled my cot away! While waiting for a new one, I got a bit of the Hangover Blues. I had them throughout the day, but usually they hit hardest before bed. I probably won’t drink again for a while.

Finally, my new bed had arrived. I quickly got under the covers and closed my eyes, with my last thought of the night being: “Why the fuck would they take my bed? That’s so ru— oh, right. It was soaked with urine.”

Goodnight xo