Okay, that's it. I'm staying away from energy drinks.
It's official. Those energy drinks are NOT good for me.
Last night a friend came over and just happened to have a couple of cans of "Monster" with him. Now mind you, he lives on these things (could be why he's actually more hyper than me) with seemingly no ill effects. For me, on the other hand, being the one that can sniff out a computer in a Radio Shack a mile away despite the stench of nauseating peufume permeating my airspace, it's a whole different story.
Let me say this once so I can hear myself and remember: Chemicals. And. Me. Do. Not. Mix.
Especially chemicals that alter body chemistry. And they all do for the most part...
So needless to say, I had one of the monster drinks. Half of it I should say. At first I was higher than a lizard climbing toward the sun in an arctic tundra. Then an hour or two later I was suddenly ... weird. Okay, weirdER. Friend noticed it. I got kinda lethargic, quiet, tired yet awake, very very hot, and my brain felt like I'd mashed it with a serrated knife and a toothpick. Friend left at 1am or so, and I retired shortly after that only to find myself awake for another half an hour. Finally, I fell asleep.
This morning I wasn't good. I woke up at 6am, realized I didn't have to work until much much later, and forced myself back into sleep. Finally, after several instances of waking up due to involuntary muscle twitches and a sense of miniature tremors that weren't actually happening, I decided to check email. 7am. That would make just under six hours of sleep. I *hate* 6 hours of sleep. I function soooo much better on eight.
My mind was all foggy, eyes nearly glued shut, tired, achy even ... and my stomach felt like a thousand dump trucks let go of their loads in it. And each one contained mostly rotting pieces of potato skin, slimy maggot-infested three-day-old-casserole, and moldy cheesecake with hair stuck in it. All mixed in with beer that sat out in the sun too long and a few shots of liquid dog shit. Then whenever I moved I was under the impression that someone had come along and splattered the remnants of a few dozen cartons of regurgitated milk onto the whole stinking mess. Yet somehow I didn't throw up. Probably because I was afraid that if I did, I wouldn't stop.
No, seriously, my stomach was screwed up, but not to the point of nausea. Just felt icky. But it was bad enough to make me realize that doing this even on such rare occasions might be a bad idea.
So here I am, tired, but not suffering from an upset stomach. Yay for me!
~nvnohi
Last night a friend came over and just happened to have a couple of cans of "Monster" with him. Now mind you, he lives on these things (could be why he's actually more hyper than me) with seemingly no ill effects. For me, on the other hand, being the one that can sniff out a computer in a Radio Shack a mile away despite the stench of nauseating peufume permeating my airspace, it's a whole different story.
Let me say this once so I can hear myself and remember: Chemicals. And. Me. Do. Not. Mix.
Especially chemicals that alter body chemistry. And they all do for the most part...
So needless to say, I had one of the monster drinks. Half of it I should say. At first I was higher than a lizard climbing toward the sun in an arctic tundra. Then an hour or two later I was suddenly ... weird. Okay, weirdER. Friend noticed it. I got kinda lethargic, quiet, tired yet awake, very very hot, and my brain felt like I'd mashed it with a serrated knife and a toothpick. Friend left at 1am or so, and I retired shortly after that only to find myself awake for another half an hour. Finally, I fell asleep.
This morning I wasn't good. I woke up at 6am, realized I didn't have to work until much much later, and forced myself back into sleep. Finally, after several instances of waking up due to involuntary muscle twitches and a sense of miniature tremors that weren't actually happening, I decided to check email. 7am. That would make just under six hours of sleep. I *hate* 6 hours of sleep. I function soooo much better on eight.
My mind was all foggy, eyes nearly glued shut, tired, achy even ... and my stomach felt like a thousand dump trucks let go of their loads in it. And each one contained mostly rotting pieces of potato skin, slimy maggot-infested three-day-old-casserole, and moldy cheesecake with hair stuck in it. All mixed in with beer that sat out in the sun too long and a few shots of liquid dog shit. Then whenever I moved I was under the impression that someone had come along and splattered the remnants of a few dozen cartons of regurgitated milk onto the whole stinking mess. Yet somehow I didn't throw up. Probably because I was afraid that if I did, I wouldn't stop.
No, seriously, my stomach was screwed up, but not to the point of nausea. Just felt icky. But it was bad enough to make me realize that doing this even on such rare occasions might be a bad idea.
So here I am, tired, but not suffering from an upset stomach. Yay for me!
~nvnohi
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