08.05.04 | 2:21 p.m.

A Bag, and A Lady

This past Saturday I attended a bachelorette party, where I proceeded to drink myself incredibly drunk (as is the custom at such events). So drunk, that I didn't even think I was that drunk, until Sunday when I woke up in bed next to the bride-to-be (not what you’re thinking) with her rhinestone “BRIDE” bracelet stuck to my cheek (on my face).

It was almost noon, and I had to drive about an hour home, as I had a 3 p.m. barbeque to attend.

Too nauseous to eat anything, I grabbed a Coke and got in my car. The first 15 minutes were painful -- since I was undeniably fighting the urge to vomit -- but with the air conditioner blasting in my face, it got a little better -- then, it got worse. As I was flying down the expressway, I realized, there was no stopping my projectile vomiting. Oh shit. This is what I thought.

For some reason I had two purses with me. With my free hand, I quickly emptied out the contents of the smaller bag onto the floor mat and promptly (not proudly) threw up in it.

While changing lanes and cruising at speed of 70 mph, I threw up about 5 more times (not caring who saw me, although I was wearing sunglasses to conceal my bloodshot eyes) into the little purse.

It was far from glamorous, and I strongly urge that only extremely experienced hungover drivers attempt this intricate maneuver.

When I did pull up to my apartment, that little purse was immediately turned over to the dumpster for safekeeping.

Well, at least I didn't vomit (1) on myself, or (2) on the interior of my new car.

This, I am convinced, is what makes me so fucking classy. In fact, I am sure Jackie O employed similar techniques in her day.

During my lunch hour this afternoon, I walked the streets of Chicago in search of a new purse to accompany me to the wedding that I am in this Saturday. And, in my quest, I made the executive decision not to get the nice (meaning expensive) department store purse, which would have looked best with my dress. Rather, since the purpose of a pricey purse would be wasted on me, I bought a $20 tan canvas Levi's purse, which doubles as a much more economical vomit receptacle.

On a sidenote, I never did make it to that barbeque.