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"I’m going to pee my pants!" She runs from the living room with her knees locked together.
A few minutes later, she's back, and I'm still on the floor dying.
"Do you have your weed pen? The only way I'm gonna get rid of this headache is with weed." When she doesn’t respond I look up at her, and ask, "What?"
"Why didn't I think of that?"
Natalie retrieves the pen from a drawer in the kitchen and inhales deeply before handing it to me. I take a few hits and pass it back.
"You have the worst pair of racoon eyes I've ever seen." The black smeared makeup around her eyes makes her look like it was done by a toddler in the dark.
"You don't look so hot either, Felicia."
I giggle. At least she remembers that. I flip the screen on my camera app to look at my reflection.
"Jesus Christ." My eyes widen. "I look like I had an exorcism."
Natalie takes another hit and holds it for a second, then exhales, a dense cloud of smoke forming in front of her face. "Nah, you just look like you got some good D.”
I purse my lips and nod. "It's true."
"We seriously need our own reality show," she announces, handing me back the odorless pen. "Wicked senses of humor. Check. Dirty minds. Check. New York City is our playground. Check. Shamelessly hot. Check. Epic bitches with low principles…" She looks at me and raises a brow. "Double check. What's not to love and want? We can't be epically fucking amazing without all of that."
All I can do is shake my head and inhale one last time. That's all I really need. Once it kicks in, I'll be good to go and the pain will be gone.
"I think he had the biggest dick I've ever seen in my life," I say.
She chokes, then the coughing comes, and I throw her a water bottle that's been sitting on the table for a week. She misses and it hits her head. Another round of giggles escapes me, which makes her laugh in return even harder, which then leads to coughing again. She can't even sip the water because she's coughing so hard.
"You don't even know, Nat, he fucking rammed that shit into me. Thank God I was flying high and loose as a goose so it wasn't bad. I can't imagine banging him on the regular. I wouldn't be able to walk after."
She drinks half the bottle, and exhales a huge breath like she just came up for air.
"They don't call it the Meatpacking District for nothing."
I shake my head and smile. "No, they don't."
"Lucky you. My rando was thick, but he was so short. A chode."
Frowning, I look at her. "Did you just make that word up?"
She gawks. "You've never heard of a chode?"
I shake my head and it's already feeling lighter. "No. What the hell is it?"
"A chode is a short but fat dick."
Oh God. The giggles kick in and I can't stop laughing. She follows suit.
We're so lame.
"You're a chode," I say, grinning from ear to ear. We’re both hysterical over the word.
"Okay, Ram Jam."
"What the fuck?" I laugh harder.
We recount the night and then crash for a couple of hours. I wake up and stretch my arms above my head and yawn. It’s dark outside, but I'm feeling a million times better. A little smoke always helps ease the tension and stress, and it's the best hangover cure.
