B1: So desirable even I can't control their powers

Struggling through the haze of a hangover is like being one of those cursed pirates who is alive but doesn't experience any sensations. I stare at faces, but they don’t make sense. I can’t seem to grip any thoughts for longer than a slippery second. My guts are rumbling, and I know I should be drinking more water. But it is a struggle to take a drink and not puke it back up. I am trying my best to think of something significant to say, but all that comes to mind is that I am lucky I made it to work on time and in one piece. So here I sit, all broken hearted, came to work but only farted. This is officially the Summer of Insignificance and I am doing my damndest to keep things interesting. Things would be so much simpler if I didn't bore so easily.