I’m still convinced vodka is the foundation of my utter downfall.
“Downfall” meaning falling down and fucking up my body enough to walk to the bed I’m sleeping in that night, and wondering what the hell I did to ache so much in the morning.
Limping on ice toward the subway while being hungover is not my ideal Sunday. (Sounds like an obnoxiously titled ice skating show that no one would buy tickets to.)
