Oww...

I'm still feeling the effects of those cosmos from the other night.

No, it's not a hangover...per se. When I fell asleep (or passed out, whatever! don't be so technical!) on the couch that night, I managed to do so in a position that completely wrenched my neck.
I have a permanent neck problem -- a couple of bulging disks -- that's a work-induced repetitive stress injury, so it's a very sensitive area.
But after all those years of physical therapy and Pilates, I know what I need to do to get it back to "normal" again. It just hurts like fucking hell right now. And my range of motion is shit.

And I'm all crampy in a womanly way, so my nerve receptors are all pissy today!

But here's something funny: I was watching "The Office" (the U.S. version) the other night, and I had a flashback during the scene in which Michael mistakes the package delivery woman as his birthday stripper.

Several years ago, I hosted a bachelorette party for a co-worker friend. We decided to hire a male stripper to entertain her, even though she kept saying she didn't want one. She's a notorious ogler of men's bodies, so we figured she'd love it. Turned out, we were mistaken, but more on that later.

The stripper was to show up in the guise of a Domino's pizza delivery man -- he had the company uniform and even one of those pizza warmer thingies. When I answered the door, I was supposed to be all puzzled and give him a hard time and insist I wasn't going to pay him, as we hadn't ordered pizza from Domino's. Then he was supposed to break out the boombox and do his thing. So clever, eh?

Except my boss decided to play a little prank on us, and actually DID order us a Domino's pizza, and set it up so it would arrive before our stripper.

So the real Domino's guy shows up, and he's not exactly got a hot bod -- he was kind of a big guy, in fact, but who am I to judge? -- and has a bit of a Russian accent that I don't remember anyone mentioning, but whatever. I'm playing my part, giving this guy a hard time, and wondering why the hell he's not playing along and taking off his clothes.

There was only one partygoer who was in on the joke, and thank god she finally stepped up to pay the poor man, who graciously posed for pictures with us before he went on his way. I hope we tipped him well. I don't remember.

So then the real stripper shows up, and the bride-to-be would have none of it. She didn't want him to touch her or dance near her or anything. So, it was up to the rest of us to enjoy his work, and we did... until we couldn't get him to leave.

And then he called my apartment a few days later, supposedly looking for his missing thong underwear. My then-husband thought that was fishy, but now I'm not sure if he was jealous of the stripper or of me.