Losers Club Tries to Fake Not Being Hung Over

So, last night I should have been being a good girl. I mean, I had it all planned. I was going to head home on the 5:45 train. Have a quiet night, maybe take a bath, enjoy a home cooked meal, read some more of the "Meditations on the Buddha Tara" - which has been very helpful with dealing with my whole CBL stress...

And then GoodBuddy called.

I resisted at first. I even got passive-aggressively bitter. Because I had been thinking happy and healthy. And then I realized that - yea, I've got no control when it comes to him and, yea, well, it was going to be a night of general debauchery.

And, so it was.

So, this morning, as I was trying my damnedest to get to work on time and not seem like I was completely puffy (more on that later) and wasted, I grabbed a cab at NorthStation to cut down on commute time.

And my damn cabbie was so eager to get me to Copley Square that he ran two red lights.

And got caught.

And got pulled over.

And got a ticket.

I was about 20 minutes late picking up my colleague who's visiting from London. And, yea, she probably noticed my bleary eyes.

Way to have a healthy, quiet, relaxing, yogafied night.