I'm such a pushover.

Give me a free hat and I'll cheer for your team forever...or at least for the week.

Go Browns!

My sister and I walked into the bar at the Radisson (I should probably be fired) last Saturday night and the 40-year-old Bantam hockey coaches we met the night before asked me, “How does your ass feel?”

“Ha ha, guys, that’s real funny,” I said.

“What, you don’t remember?!” they laughed incredulously.

This went on for a three solid minutes until they convinced me that my ass had every reason to be sore.

It’s been over a week so I feel like I can share last weekend’s events. Oh was it painful. So, so painful.

Gretchen and I ventured to Duluth for a “girl’s weekend” with Angie after I finished work on Friday. Upon arriving I slammed four beers in about 25 minutes, which is bizarre because, before I saw Angie, I didn’t even FEEL like drinking. There was no turning back from there. I think there was dinner mixed in there somewhere, and then bar hopping. We only hopped to two bars, however, as we found a fun bunch of “old” folks at the Radisson bar. We sucked them in with the “get your picture taken with random guys” game. They even let us come up to their rooms after I insisted that, being a hotelier and having entertained them for the evening, I had earned it. My reasoning sucks, but they still welcomed us up.

I didn’t get to bed until 4am Saturday morning – 23 hours after waking up to get ready for the final day of the workweek. I think we stumbled up to Angie’s apartment at around 2:00, but I took a spill on the way and had to deal with the bleeding once we arrived. Well, once Angie pointed out I was bleeding when I was running around bottomless trying to find my pajamas…

I also had some phone calls to place before I went to bed. Had my mind been functioning at that time, it would have told me, “No! Don’t call Darren at 3am! He has to be up in two hours for work!” Sadly, my mind had turned off. So I found Darren in my phonebook, called him Rob, he hung up on me, I called him back five times and left five separate messages, though one was apparently for Craig, with whom I work. I had severe concern about the locks being changed when I came home on Sunday, especially since Darren wouldn’t answer my calls for the rest of the weekend. Oops!

Saturday morning was even worse. I woke up at 8:30 and I felt acceptable considering the evening’s events. Gradually, that worsened to the point where, after vomiting, I turned on the shower and could only stare at it, thinking of how I would surely faint and break my head AND Angie’s bathtub if I tried to get in there. That shower has enough water pressure to peel the skin off an orange and the thought of having my orange peeled was daunting. Angie and Tuna went out to lunch and Canal Park and I slept. I woke up at three, felt a little bit better, showered, took another hour-long nap, and woke up to get ready for the day. At 5:15 I was feeling alive again, and that was the very time that I cracked open a beer.

I’m never going to drink that much ever again. I am a foolish girl and I can finally see why my dad gets so worried about me.

All fucked up on Theraflu and nowhere to go. I've been counting the hours between doses of drugs in order to avoid another "overdose"...and that has pretty much been my day. Perhaps by tomorrow I'll be able to speak and/or breathe clearly again so I don't sound like a mutant answering the phone at work. That'd be nice.

I watched the Vikings today and was glad to see I did my part to help them to victory. Joey Harrington was in my elevator yesterday, and I was just waiting for the announcers to say he woke up feeling a bit under the weather this morning. No such luck, but apparently it wasn't necessary. All I can say is those football players have some mighty flashy suits.

After bringing the boys up to their rooms yesterday, I did what seemed logical and headed down to the bar with Missy to watch the players wander aimlessly in and out of the lobby before hopping in town cars to check out the town. I hear hard liquor helps with colds, but I can attest that beer does not And we couldn't just stop after one or two drinks (and a meal) because the big guy came down and said he'd sign off on the tab. I love that man. After five or so vodka and tonics, Missy made herself stop out of fear that she was going to say something to him to embarrass herself. Just like a blubbering ten-year-old, that girl.

The only other excitement within sight is that Willy Wonka comes out on DVD this week. I smell a Tuesday lunch break trip to Target.

Yesterday at work I was exhausted and crabby after a week of being sick, fucking stuff up, and doing everyone's work. Oddly enough, those three are interconnected. I like to think I fucked up other people's work because I was sick. Oh well, makes them look bad, not me, eh? What an attitude to have!

At about 2pm, and the peak of my shortness, I went to check my mailbox for work and found a green sheet of paper wrapped around something. I opened the paper and this is what it said:

Amanda-

I have heard how you are my #1 fan in the Muggle world. It brings me great joy to know that you believe in magic too.

Please continue to read about my wizardry...and maybe someday you will find the way of the wizard within yourself.

Love,

Harry Potter

From the paper fell a bookmark. I laughed until I nearly cried, then I decided my co-workers aren't so bad after all. Well, some of them at least.

I get to go back to that place today for the Detroit Lions check-in. My plan is to get all of their players sick so the Vikings can actually win a game. Vikings fans can feel free to direct thank you letters my way.

Last night I went to my very first haunted house. I spent the majority of the evening in line, spazzing out and trying to maneuver myself into the middle of my posse, because wouldn't that be the safest place to be with goblins trying to jump out and grab one's throat?

I'm pleased to announce that I made it safely through the haunted house AND the haunted hay ride. I jumped nearly out of my shoes and squealed like a little girl and laughed so hard I almost cried and holy crap did I ever have fun getting scared. I didn't expect it at all, but now I want to get scared all the time! Only it has to be the good, harmless scared. No dead people and no serial child rapists.

I hope everyone had a safe and happy Halloween and that you all also got your pants scared off and stayed out PAST ELEVEN O'CLOCK like the rest of us badasses.