Fakes Samaire Armstrong

Sunday

I wake that my mouth is a desert, drinking a glass of water without opening his eyes, looking at mobile phone that is at 12.04, falling asleep. Awakens 13.10 of that ten elephants dancing on my head, kaver me out of bed and fill the water glass, take a Ibux and fall asleep again, jogging trousers and sweater, in the fetal position under the covers. Wake up again sometime after 13:30 and observe that I have slept with a whole lot of mess I do not have giddi to clear out of bed - a broken mirror, book, cardboard packaging from some new tights. I find the phone and take the obligatory check of the outbox, and call log. I have called a taxi for 02.15 and have a vague memory that I'm sitting on the ground until Narvesen at Bøler, I have only one mitten, and I try to push both hands into it. Outbox get me to say a little prayer that they have to get my ass in gear and make alcolock to mobile phones, I blush and curl myself together under the covers. Sender a text message to the world's nicest little sister and ask nicely if she can make breakfast for the world's dumbest / most embarrassing / most anguish big sister, the room spins, and it's worse to try to cook yourself. I eat lying in bed with the lights off. Putting on an episode Six feet under, hoping to fill the anxiety a little distance, and as I put on my glasses, which are full of tear stains after I vomited yesterday, I think the idea that I've thought so many times before: " Oh my God, so ridiculously stupid I am, I had really needed to push in me the glass of Cava? I hate the Cava! And Sambucca? No, no, no, it never ends well! Stupid, stupid, stupid Stina! " I lie in a fetal position under the covers in a dark room until the time is 16.30. When I finally venture out, unable to leave the room without being afraid to vomit, and on the way there I get sight of myself in the mirror. I look like a Takras with mascara and eyeliner rubbed out all over. I spend a half hour to lie on the couch and almost fall asleep before I jade me to the gas station and buys a vital pizza - nothing cures a hangover like pizza - and the rest of the day to do absolutely nothing, other than drinking a few liters of water and to think a little sorry for myself. I am convinced I must have done or said something really stupid, and it is possible May Concern: I'm sorry, I meant it. I did not know what I talked about!