CONVERSATIONAL MONDAYS
(bitches!)
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| Imma tell you a secret..... gimmie yer wine, and I won't shank you, yet.... |
Mostly because I wasn't out and about.
Why?
It may have something to do with the entire bottle of Fetzer Riesling I thought it was appropriate to drink, by myself, on Friday night. You know, after I had my rum and coke. So instead of rounding up the latest juicy gossip, I'd thought I'd share most of what I can remember about Friday.
We went to a nice dinner with my family. At a nice little Italian restaurant where happy hour was still going strong, and it was $3 for any "well drink" i.e. vodka tonic, gin and tonic, rum and coke, etc. I settled on rum and coke, and somewhere between me finishing it, and thinking about ordering another, lo and behold MY FAVORITE bottle of wine of all time miraculously appeared at the table. Still not sure who ordered it, but I do know for a fact I'm the only one that drank it.
Why?
My dad recently had gastric bypass and alcohol is on the list of "Drink this and DIE" things...
My mom doesn't drink at all (anymore) because she gets a wicked migraine (what a freaking cop out)
My husband didn't drink because someone had to drive me home, and oh yeah, watch our kids...
Which means I was left to drink the entire bottle, because if you don't finish it they won't let you take it. No use in wasting perfectly good wine right............ right.
While standing (I think I was standing) and washing my hands in the bathroom after dinner and wine, my mom said:
Mom: "I feel bad for the phubster tonight, hope he doesn't mind the state you're in."
Me: "You feel bad? What for, I'm just going to pass out in the car."
Mom: "Oh that'll make it easier"
Me: "You know it. This is why I don't just have two or three drinks. He's always telling me just have two or three but I'm onto his game."
Mom: "His what"
Me: "His game. I mean shit, two or three drinks means more kids. Drink a whole bottle and you're ensuring you're just going to pass out, no kids. How'd you think the other two got here."
Mom: "oh wow"
Me: "I know, I'm smart right."
Mom: "hahaha, yeah something like that."
After that and at home I drunk texted Ms. VampireS. Here is our text conversation...
Me: Rgery sucks iambic shit.faced right
Ms VS: Wow yes you are
Me: I can't
Ms VS: You cant what hun?
Me: I can't, read it's reilly hard
Me: I meancant
Me: Shhhhh
Me: I think phubster is pottery pissed at me
Me: Oh well
Ms VS: Uh yes I bet hun lol
Ms VS: You're dunzo lol
And if that wasn't bad enough, for some reason I decided to take it a step further and send out the following tweets:
Officially shit faced and loving it
LET the drink Skpung begin
Ur can't read. Us toys bag?
Finished a ngihtly of ey're hi nearly is thIrd bag
Looking drynk svary is thIrd bad?
At this point I think I did actually pass out, in the middle of the bed, fully clothed, with the lights on. And since the phubster is such a loving and caring man he did wake me up at about 3 am to make me drink about 5 gallons of water because as he put it, "I'm not cleaning up your puke, and I'm not dealing with your headache tomorrow. Drink the water." Ahhh, such a loving man, how did I get so lucky.
In all actuality, I did feel really good the next morning. No hang over whatsoever. I was a little tired, and a bit light sensitive, but other than that I was feeling pretty chipper which may be due to the fact that it was the first uninterrupted night's sleep I've had in about ohhhh 4 years. In fact I was feeling so dandy that I got up, made breakfast, bathed the children, and started the laundry. I even had an in depth conversation with the phubster about the rest of the night that I couldn't remember. It's apparent that when I get really, really, really trashed, I get very---> apologetic. According to the phubster I spent the majority of the night apologizing for the following things, breathing, sitting down, opening the door, lying down on the floor, brushing my teeth, flushing the toilet, talking, walking, moving, scratching my arm, having children, making him buy me dogs, etc. In fact snarksters, I apologized so much, that I am banned from saying the phrase "I'm sorry," for at least the next six months......... later that afternoon I crashed hard, on the couch for four hours or so....what, I'm old....
The final score:
Me: Winning!
Phubster: NOT (<-- I am so on to your game you bastard!)
Soooooo, what'd you do over the weekend? Drink entire bottles of vodka, make it rain up in the club, hear anything scintillating worth sharing? Do tell..... Can anyone figure out what the hell I meant to tweet up there? If so, send your interpretations and I'll give you a prize, or a virtual hug and pat on the back, whichever is cheaper....
And if that wasn't bad enough, for some reason I decided to take it a step further and send out the following tweets:
Officially shit faced and loving it
LET the drink Skpung begin
Ur can't read. Us toys bag?
Finished a ngihtly of ey're hi nearly is thIrd bag
Looking drynk svary is thIrd bad?
At this point I think I did actually pass out, in the middle of the bed, fully clothed, with the lights on. And since the phubster is such a loving and caring man he did wake me up at about 3 am to make me drink about 5 gallons of water because as he put it, "I'm not cleaning up your puke, and I'm not dealing with your headache tomorrow. Drink the water." Ahhh, such a loving man, how did I get so lucky.
In all actuality, I did feel really good the next morning. No hang over whatsoever. I was a little tired, and a bit light sensitive, but other than that I was feeling pretty chipper which may be due to the fact that it was the first uninterrupted night's sleep I've had in about ohhhh 4 years. In fact I was feeling so dandy that I got up, made breakfast, bathed the children, and started the laundry. I even had an in depth conversation with the phubster about the rest of the night that I couldn't remember. It's apparent that when I get really, really, really trashed, I get very---> apologetic. According to the phubster I spent the majority of the night apologizing for the following things, breathing, sitting down, opening the door, lying down on the floor, brushing my teeth, flushing the toilet, talking, walking, moving, scratching my arm, having children, making him buy me dogs, etc. In fact snarksters, I apologized so much, that I am banned from saying the phrase "I'm sorry," for at least the next six months......... later that afternoon I crashed hard, on the couch for four hours or so....what, I'm old....
The final score:
Me: Winning!
Phubster: NOT (<-- I am so on to your game you bastard!)
Soooooo, what'd you do over the weekend? Drink entire bottles of vodka, make it rain up in the club, hear anything scintillating worth sharing? Do tell..... Can anyone figure out what the hell I meant to tweet up there? If so, send your interpretations and I'll give you a prize, or a virtual hug and pat on the back, whichever is cheaper....
