My shrink said it's not surprising that Rome Girl and I are feeling wiped out/unmotivated/panicked today.
She said that really good news can fuck with the body in ways that are similar to the the way bad news fucks up the body. Both screw around with the natural serotonin and adrenaline levels and it can take a day or two before the natural chemical balance gets back on track.
"Add to that cold medicine, alcohol and xanax and you should be happy you were able to get out of bed this morning," she said. "Plus you had Rome Girl and her friend dying to deal with before the election even happened. Just do what you can today and try not to worry about it too much. Sometimes deadlines get missed."
Of course, that doesn't help me get work done, but it is nice to know that I'm not completely crazy.
Hannah and Her Bitches was a motley crew at the Vert Anglais pub quiz tonight.
For the first time ever we were essentially sober. The team consided of the Elder Half Of Woody Allen Film Reference, who had a bad cold and slowly nursed wine and then me and several Scandianavian chicks who were in borderline D.T. Land from the night before and couldn't drink anything other than Coca Cola and Perrier.
There was also Hannah's boss and an American woman who did drink, but kept it to a minimum because they seemed able to tell that the rest of us were getting the shakes just smelling alcohol.
We came in fourth, which wasn't a bad showing. We were the only team to know that Bruce Springsteen wrote "Blinded By The Light" and that the black dude in Tropic Thunder was played by Robert Downey Jr.
The younger half of Woodey Allen Film Reference was also there but playing with a team of younger guys who were drawing pictures of dicks on her arm in magic marker in between rounds of questions.
"This is what I get for playing with young blokes," was her comment.