I sure wish I could figure out why everything smells like cocaine this morning.

I sure wish I could figure out why everything smells like cocaine this morning.

What did I have for dinner last night? What did they have for dinner last night? Whatever it was, we all must have had the same thing. Should I make a comment about it at the sinks if I finish at the same time as one of the other guys in the other stalls? That might be weird. But no, no, it's just so noticeable. One of them will probably make a comment about it to me. I mean, how often does the first floor bathroom at work smell like this? Sometimes I try to hold my breath the whole time I'm in here so that I don't have to take in any of the foul air. Not today though. Not today because for one, my heart is beating a lot faster than usual for some reason -- after just one-half cup of coffee -- so I didn't want to add any more stress to the ticker, you know. But the main reason why I didn't bother is because it doesn't even smell like poop in here. All it smells like is cocaine.

What the heck did I do last night? When did I go to bed? I must have had a lot to drink, that's for sure, because I don't remember a thing. It's not often, thank goodness, that I wake up fully dressed in yesterday's clothes, shoes and all. There must be some explanation for why I had two ATM withdrawal receipts, one for $100 and the other for $140, in my pants pocket this morning. Did I loan a friend of mine some money? Maybe that's what happened, but that still wouldn't begin to explain why when I woke up this morning my whole apartment smelled like cocaine.

Having grown up in a town near an ethanol plant, I've experienced some strong scents in the air. If the wind is blowing right, that's all you could smell, ethanol. It's not that unpleasant, though. "Daddy, why does it smell like bread outside?", I would ask. "That's the ethanol. It does kind of smell like bread, doesn't it", he would answer. It didn't smell exactly like freshly baked bread, but it wasn't far off. You couldn't do anything about the ethanol smell dominating the Michiana air. Everyone smelled it, and everyone had to just accept it because being bothered by it wasn't going to make it go away. Other towns have smells of their own. Here in Washington DC, especially in the southeast section, the smell of the Anacostia river, rife with raw sewage, will permeate the air from time to time. It's a far less tolerable smell than the ethanol was, but you just have to deal with it. This morning though, walking to the Metro, there was a different smell in the air. Maybe it was just the Midtown area, but it smelled like cocaine something powerful out there.

Man, I sure feel funny this morning. Not funny, "ha ha", and not funny "queer" either. I feel funny like I got hit by a truck but walked away afterwards. My head is pounding. My lungs, my lungs feel awful. I guess that might have something to do with the half-empty pack of Newports on my dresser when I woke up. Damn. It has been years since I've had a cigarette. What could have happened last night to make me want to buy a pack of menthols?

Stop twitching, arm!

This sure is a weird hangover. What the heck did I drink to make me feel like this? It sure couldn't have been beer or whiskey, I know those hangovers too well. Tequila? Maybe. Tequila gets me in trouble. Heck, it could have been some fancy liqueur. Maybe someone had a bottle of Absinthe. I hear Absinthe will eff you up real good. Was it a ruffie? Maybe someone was trying to slip a ruffie in a girl's drink and they accidentally put it into mine. That's probably what happened, because from what I understand, a ruffie will make you forget everything.

Stop twitching, eyelid!

OK, OK, I better flush and get back to work. I sure don't feel like working though. This sure isn't an environment conducive to productivity. You know how some people get vertigo from the smell of perfume? Some offices don't allow perfume to be worn for that reason. I better go talk to my boss about maybe working from home for the rest of the day or something. She'll understand. I mean, how am I supposed to get anything done here when the whole office reeks of cocaine?