Worst. Weekend. Ever.

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…