I think I hit the wall last weekend. A friend was in town and we drank for three days straight. By three days I mean all day every day. And by the third day we were up till the sun rose walking like zombies through downtown LA fucked up and fucked. I got little sleep that night, waking up every 15 minutes like a lunatic. The next day was okay. I was tired and fuzzy. Not too bad. Little did I know the wall was still ahead of me. I was still coasting on fumes and hadn’t succumbed to the hangover yet. That night I got a perfect 8 hours. Like a fucking rock. Who knew what my body had in store for me?

I woke up in horror. My whole body ached. Ached like I had just run the mile 50 times with a rock in my shoe. Ached like I had been chewed up and spit out. My head hurt, I was dizzy and I was sweating hot and freezing cold. Was I sick? No, I was hung over and 30.