I apologize for the hyperbole in the title. Obviously this was not the worst weekend ever, I am sure I have had worse, but it definitely ranks up there.
Do you guys remember a few years ago when a rookie QB took over for the Steelers and they went 15-1? Well that season I made sure to request off for the Super Bowl, early. I believe I put my request in whenever the Steelers beat the Eagles.
Well the Steelers did not make the Super Bowl (the Eagles ended up losing to the Patriots), but I already had the weekend off. What was a guy to do? Well I went to Champs Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Got absolutely shitcanned every day. I believe I may have spent over $500 drinking those three days.
Fast-forward to this year. I requested off awhile back, not because I believed the Steelers would be in the Super Bowl, but because I just wanted to party. Seemed like a good excuse to me.
Friday night I drove home through the blizzard and headed out to the Pub. I got drunk, came home and passed out. Saturday I woke up to my brother texting me demanding that I bring him food. I get a shower, purchase a Stromboli from Sarinas and head to Adam's place.
At this point I am feeling fine. We eat, and he tells me how we are going to do "edward fortyhands" which is when you duct-tape forties to your hands and drink them. After that then everyone is heading to the Pub. Sounds like a fun plan. He goes upstairs for a shower and I lay there watching movies.
My head starts to pound, which I think is just a hangover. I think nothing of it, take some Advil and continue to hang out. We leave for the store, now I am developing the shakes and I am sweating. I also have a rumbling stomach. We get back from the six-pack shop and I inform him that I got to go. I head home and promptly head for the bathroom.
I swear that I lost fifteen pounds on the toilet. It would not stop. And to top it off, my headache was now 10X worse. I lay down and fall asleep. I wake up and think that maybe I feel fine enough to meet them at the bar (at this point I am trying to be a trooper). As soon as I stand up I feel nauseous and go to the bathroom, where I immediately drop another fifteen pounds.
My head still hurts, and I think I have a fever. I use my thermometer from work (which may or may not have been used to temp raw chicken). I have a fever of 100.9. I realize that there is no way that I am going out. I head to bed and wake up around midnight. I head for the couch and watch television for a bit.
I get up Sunday morning feeling a good bit better. I head to State College to buy my comics and get a haircut. I plan on going to Adam's place to watch the Super Bowl. When I get home from that stuff, my head begins to pound again and I still feel sick to my stomach. I put on my pajamas and lay on the couch watching the game and reading comics. I then fell asleep. Of course I felt fantastic on Monday. What a wasted weekend off...