my friends were crammed like sardines in two rooms at the hilton. see, we are always at least three to a room, seemingly satisfying some short, aging, dirty-old-man's fantasy of the eternal pillow-fight pajama party.
on a side note, i was excited to get to check out the o'hare hilton. for obvious reasons, i've never stayed there, but have always been very intrigued by its parasitical nature to both the cta and the airport. it's just like paris hilton herself -- flashy, trashy, and singularly worthless.
hung out in the room and drank a can of beer from the minibar, then went down to the hotel sports bar with my very close friend jeannie from nyc and proceded to drink at least three more. she pretty much kept up with me, but it's important to remember two things:
- i am about 5'2" and she is 4'11". it doesn't take me much to get lit and takes her even less.
- did not eat. whoops.
came back to their room, and outfitted in a friend's tank top and hello-kitty pj pants, "slept" on the friggin' floor and had gnarly dreams about blood. neat. blood dreams are my fave.
the room service breakfast that we charged to the underhills [cheddar and broccoli omelet with rosemary potatoes] rocked my face off -- the left side is just gone -- but it was no match for [cue "charge!" trumpets] super hangover! dark glasses and the bad plus in my ipod made getting home tolerable. the cats, denied their dad and mom and late-night feeding and breakfast were about as anthropomorphically disappointed in me as they could muster.
i think i needed to kick my own ass. i've been feeling overwhelmed with unsurety:
- is my dad's brain permanently stuck on "random"?
- will i make it up for workweek?
- are we going to both days of the wake?
- if we take my aunt pauline from around the corner, will that suck?
- if i wear pants to the wake, will i be jumped by an angry gang of koulas, toulas, and voulas armed with large medallioned gold chains?
- will casey still be feverishly ill when he leaves on his worldwide excursion?
- am i pregnant?
maybe, after having put the smack down on myself, i am now forced to be a little less snarky tonight at the funeral home. we'll see.