i can't sleep 'cause my bed's on fire

after boldly telling my friends i wouldn't be getting drunk one saturday (no one believed me), i proceeded to do about 4 citywides and drink at least 4 more beers over the course of an evening. though i'm left with little recollection of anything beyond the arrival at an afterparty, i do remember my intense drunken craving for mustard. in fact, i'll admit that i probably left the party to go get some mustard. i thought i was sooooo coooool: "i don't even need bread anymore; i'll eat that shit right off the spoon."

oh, how'd i'd regret my tough-as-nails attitude. it turns out i DO need bread. AND i need to use a smaller spoon. i woke up at 3p.m. (post-mustard) to find mustard everywhere. i was drowning in it. it was on my face, on my pillow, crusted onto my blanket, and coagulating on a seemingly microwaved (seriously? i was so drunk i couldn't wait for the toaster?) pita that lay on a plate by my bedside, too embarrassed to be seen with me. the mustard was smeared all over the pita, a trail of greenish yellow creeping up the side of my bed, the result of my criminally blatant disregard for the pita that could've saved my pride.

and my sunday. since the whole right side of my bed (aka MY side) was doused in mustard-remover, i was forced to sleep of my hangover on the left side. still, it was better than the time i woke up with barf on my pillow. what a waste of mustard THAT was...

UPDATE: three days later, when paying for a swedish fish at wawa, i noticed that the quarter i handed over was covered in mustard. i think that was the last of it, though.