It’s 10 a.m. and I am clutching a bottle of vodka to my brow.
I tripped on a dog leash while returning from the morning dog walk and slammed straight into a door knob ala Final Destination.
I heard a crunch and felt like I just got decked by Brooke Hogan.
This was surely going to give me a juicy knot, and the frozen vodka bottle served as my ice-pack.
The juicy knot never formed on my forehead, but the tender feeling and light-headedness was the final touch to my 2L makeover:
