I woke up this morning (afternoon?) after a night of being obliterated and probably making an ass of myself at a Mardi Gras party where I was wearing a shirt I had no business wearing. (The logic behind the shirt: Mardi Gras = Flashing = Boobies = Cleavage = My shirt. And by cleavage, I mean even the girls couldn't stop staring.)
We drank hurricanes last night and I don't know what alcohol is in that vile drink, but I swear, I'm never drinking them again. I had one--ONE--and managed to get drunk and wake up with the worst hangover I've ever had.
I stumbled to the bathroom (ooh, just heard a car accident out my window) and downed three asprin (two hours later and my head aches just the same). I flushed my toilet and went to clean up the empty wine bottles and glasses littering my floor.
Thirty minutes later, I noticed my toilet was still running. My friend Megan had some plumbing troubles about a week ago and managed to fix it all by herself. So, similarly, I thought I could do the same, despite being dizzy and hung over. Right.
Feeling empowered, I slid the lid off the back of toilet and investigated the inner workings of my toilet. I stuck my hand in and sort fiddled with something. Unfortunately, I knocked the cap off some pump and it caused a jet of water to shoot up from the back of the toilet to the ceiling, much like some sort of plumbing Old Faithful. Water is spraying all over my bathroom, I'm screaming, everything is soaking wet and I'm drenched in cold toilet water from head to naked toe.
I don't feel empowered anymore and sometimes, I really miss pit latrines....