Why does the entire right side of my body hurt?

Because I'm a drunk asshole, that's why.

Let me explain.

This weekend, I experienced the shitshow that is Dewey Beach. I've heard DC-ers and NOVA-ites rave about this place for three years now, and I figured I needed to see what all the fuss was about.

The Hoff and I decided to take a trip with his roommate and his roommate's girlfriend. I found us a hotel that ended up being in prime drinking location (i.e no more than 4 blocks from the all the good bars.)

Friday night was normal enough. I was in that happy-drunk state where everything is right in the world.

But Saturday was a different story. I was pissed to begin with because the Steelers lost (I know it was only preseason football, but I still hate when they lose).

Then, two sleazy d-bags decided it would be a good idea to grab my ass. Side note: I'm often told I have a ghetto booty, and have been blessed with such nicknames as 'junk in the trunk' and 'bootylicious,' so I've grown accustomed to the attention my ass attracts.

That being said, I do not appreciate random dudes grabbing my goods. You have to be inducted into the super-exclusive Miss Procras. ass-grabbing club to have that honor bestowed upon you.

Problem #2 is I've never been that good at sticking up for myself. (I usually have Lo around to do that for me.) My rebuttal (no pun intended) to being assaulted? Throw ice fat one of the guys from five feet away. Yeah, I'm bad ass.

I decided that after the bar, some good ol'fashion drunk food was in order. But by the time The Hoff and I got our pizza, I felt sick and asked if we could go back to our room.

This is where things get really, really fuzzy.

I ate a slice and a half of pizza, then kept mumbling over and over that I didn't feel well. The Hoff escorted me to the bathroom and held my hair back while I vomitandoed a few times.

Next thing I knew, I woke up wondering why the hell the right side of my body ached so much and realized I was passed out on the floor of the bathroom. Apparently, I refused to move after my vom sesh, so The Hoff gave up and brought me a pillow and blanket so I could slumber peacefully on the cold, hard, germ-infested floor.

My side is still in pain.

Oddly enough, that was the first time I passed out on a bathroom floor. Picnic tables, stages and underneath tables are usually more my style.

I really need to find more comfortable places to lay my head when wasted - or just don bubble wrap before I go out drinking.

Beach Bound

Tomorrow, I’m heading down to the beach for a much-needed weekend of rest and relaxation. Just Jack’s parents have a kick-ass house that they are generous enough to let a big group of us use each Memorial Day weekend.

This self-proclaimed procrastinator has not had the pleasure of living up to her name in quite some time. I’m looking forward to whiling away the hours on the beach by working on my tan, starting in on my summer reading list and keeping a frosty beverage in my hands at all times.

The Hoff is coming with me. It will be the most time we’ve spent together in a few months, but I think it will be good for us to get away from D.C. and hang out in a different environment. We are still working things out, and it seems like our relationship is improving, but I won’t get into all that now.

The real test of this weekend will come tomorrow morning. I need to leave bright and early to avoid the horrendous beach traffic and arrive with ample time for sunbathing and day drinking. My goal is to leave at 6 a.m., but, as you all know, I have little problem doing anything in a timely fashion (drinking excluded).

So, I decided to throw a little contest. Whoever can come closest to my actual time of departure tomorrow morning will win a lovely beach souvenir. Just post your guess to the comments section no later than 11:59 p.m. EST Monday, May 25.

Hope you all have a relaxing, alcohol-filled Memorial Day weekend!