Don't Drink and Tweet

It seems to be just about that time....

CONVERSATIONAL MONDAYS

(bitches!)

Imma tell you a secret.....
gimmie yer wine, and I won't
shank you, yet....

I'm not even going to begin to lie to you and say that I heard all kinds of interesting things this weekend while I was out and about.  I didn't. 

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....

I'm Getting Pretty Fucking Old.....

Well shit and fuck. I got old and it ain't pretty.

I remember a time when I could drink like it was the fucking prohibition all over again, and wake up with a smile, sans hangover, and go about my day....

Those days are gone. And I miss them.

I'm not really sure why I decided I should drink margaritas last night.  Maybe it's because everyone else was doing it.  Maybe it's because my closet alcoholic cousin came over, and she always bring booze. It's totally rude if we don't open it and try some. I mean Martha would beat the impolite out of me, right? Right.  Maybe it's because the phubster walks around shaking his head by the time I get to the fourth drink.... I'm not really sure of the why... but snarksters can I just say.... I AM FUCKING OLD.

I remember doing a lot of laughing and animated talking last night. I think I also helped my other cousin's daughter write a speech on the importance of history. She read it back to me and it sounded like shit. I tried to read it, but it looked like shit. So I think I'm banned from offering my unsolicited advice.  SIGH. I'm usually so helpful.  I was in Speech and Debate in High School, so that totally qualifies me. I think I also walked into a wall.  I mean generally speaking it's typically the door jams and knobs that like to jump out in front of me for no reason other than to scoff behind my back; but I guess the walls want in on it too now, bastards.  After a lot of talking, and me referring to my sister in law as "that cow," and telling a couple of cousins to "shut [their] whore mouths," and my mother in law cutting me off (embarrassing, YES, necessary, PROBABLY) I decided it was time for beddy bye.  I was convinced that I would be fine this morning.

I was EPICALLY (a new word) wrong.

This morning I had a headache, and my eyes would literally not.open.  My back also hurt for no explainable reason, and I had three bruises on my arm that I have no idea where they or from or how they got there. My entire mouth tasted like tequila, and my legs were stiff, and my joints creaky. As I hobbled out of bed, and stumbled to the bathroom I realized that I am old. I also found a gray hair, which was immediately removed. Add this to the list of I am getting old and it sucks ass.....

GAH.

I remember when I could go on two hours of sleep too.... insomnia how I miss thee.

Things that have gone with age:

1. My memory
2. My body
3. My ability to hold my liquor
4. My tolerance for stupid people
5. My ability to just have one drink.....
6. My tolerance for people who just have one drink....

oh the list goes on................. but why bore you. It's Monday, and I'm hung over, like a Bob Damned teenager who's been sneaking the devil's water out of daddy's liquor cabinet. I think my eyes are blood shot too.

That's it. I gotta keep my boozing to Friday and Saturday....

Lessons Learned:

1. When your cousin shows up with a gallon of Jose Cuervo, that does not mean you should help her drink the gallon.
2. When your MIL cuts you off--> you should cut her back, with a spork.
3. Telling someone to shut their whore mouth is most likely going to end in a fist fight
4. You should never look up quotes about history, and read them when impaired
5. Calling your sister in law a cow might get you booted out of the family.....
6. Learning to hold your liquor and your tongue would be fanfuckingtastic

Soooo... call anyone a cow lately? Find some gray hairs, got creaky joints?  Share, because I don't want to be old and alone.................

You Shouldn't Reference that Someone May be A Freak In the Sheets

Some of my favorite bloggers are having tough times today. Some of them got their posts stolen, FOR SHAME fuck heads. For SHAME. Some of them are missing people they lost. Loss is a universal thread that binds us together to remind us that we are all the same:human. So before I go into my rant about getting wasted at a family bbq, I just wanted to say, times is tough, and bad shit happens to good people. That's just the way it is. And the way it is fucking sucks balls. There, off my soap box.

On Saturday I went to a cousin's BBQ. Ok let me back that up by saying it was the phubster's cousin's bbq for his other cousin, the first cousin's brother, who had come to visit from Canada. (Are you with me so far?) So technically my cousin-in-laws. Or whatever the fuck they're called. They live in (literally) Sun City. It's hot as the flames that jump up when you pour too much lighter fluid on the grill and your eyebrows get singed off over there. I was somewhat dreading it, especially because they have a pool and my kids have gills. There was no way you could bribe me, coerce me, threaten me to show off my lumpy white body and climb in there. Not a one. I was an impasse of solid granite, nothing would temper my resolve, no one could--

oh wait-- is that Moscato?

Have a Dixie Party Red Cup full of it?

Ok sure, but just one.

I nursed my cup like it was the last one on the face of the Earth. We ate carne asada and grilled chicken, my son decided to choke on a blueberry, but not to fear he swallowed it at the last minute. Buzz meter: 0 (on a scale of 1 to totally shit faced)

Hmmm.... what.... is that Disaronno? What's that, one shot?

Ok, I suppose. Buzz meter: almost a 1

The kids stood in line and took turns swinging at a pinata, and then raced after candy. Wouldn't you know it but the little monster sucks at this whole pinata game. She doesn't like hitting multi-colored animals with sticks, nor does she understand that when the candy falls you run and get it. Also doesn't help that she has baby hands, is smaller than the other kids and is a perfectionist who has to take off the dirt on each piece of candy before it goes in the bag. (I'm pretty sure now that she was switched at birth). Needless to say her bag was quite empty and her eyes were full of tears. It's ok though because me and The CryBaby Cleaned UP. He loves to grab stuff and NO ONE, I tell you NO ONE is going to knock over a baby who's just learning to walk to get candy he can't technically eat. We made a stock pile. We shared with sister. I may be hoarding it. Hmm.. what' that, back the fuck up and off my collection. (WHAT, have you ever HAD Mexican Candy. The Lead makes it taste EXTRA good. I kid, I kid. There's no lead, and it's delish! I've seen grown women fight over the last Mexican candy in the dirt, in the bushes. Yeah it's that good)

What's that you say, my cup does look a little empty. Some more Moscato? Sure, thank you. Buzz meter: 3

I lost the phubster at this point. For about an hour, which when you're starting to buzz is like three hours. I don't know where he went or what he was doing. I found myself talking too loudly in the kitchen and laughing too hysterically over nothing. I ate some chips and beans. Gotta soak up the alcohol right. Of course the kiddos wanted in the pool. Was I buzzed enough to bare my lily white ass yet? HELL NO. But thankfully their aunt and uncle took them instead. I headed back to the kitchen under the pretenses of finding the phubster. My conversation started something like this....

"So how have you been," (nodded my head in general direction of cousin's wife, "C")

(eye balling me up, the nerve of that HO) "I've been good, you?"

"Yeah I've been good too. It's hot huh." (Me)

"Yeah it is hot." (Her)

"Must be nice to have a pool." (Me)

"The kids like it." (Her)

"Oh. Hey have you seen the phubster?" (Me)

"Um no, I've been in here the whole time." (Her)

"Oh." (Me, slightly defeated)

(At this point we're interrupted by another cousin, "L")

"Hey, you want some more moscato? We just opened another bottle." (L)

"Hell yeah." (Me, enthusiastically)

Idle conversation now envelops the entire kitchen like a thick smoke that leaves me in my semi-buzzed gasping for air and fanning myself with a napkin in an attempt clear the air. At this point "C" starts goofing around dancing, and I make the ill advised joke of saying, "hey teach me, teach me how to dougie."

Snarksters, do you know that "C" actually obliges. And these brilliant words come out of my mouth.

"Shit. Now I know why your husband loves you so much, you're a lady in the streets huh."
"What?" (C, eye brows arched)
"You know, [punctuate with a giggle] a lady in the streets..."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." (C, eyebrows dangerously arched now)

"Fo real?"

"Um YES." (C, starting to get pissed)

(insert commentary from cousin L)
"Duh, a lady in the streets and a freak in the sheets." (L starts chuckling)

I may have started hysterically laughing. I may have splashed some of my drink on the nearest victim, I mean bystander. The rest of the night is kind of blurry. I did manage to find my kids, and get them dry and changed without bathing them in moscato. They even got cake and ice cream. Buzz Meter: 8

Also, the phbuster materialized out of thin air. I think I remember telling him we should eat pho. MMM... the deliciousness of pho. I think it will help sober me up slightly. I'm starting to slur/leer. The phubster suggests I should stop drinking. I don't take suggestions.

Que paso chica, que es.... Reisling?

Si! Andale! Me likey. Fill 'er uP!

Buzz Meter: Shit faced.

Now comes the blur of activity where we round up the kids, say our good byes and I proceed to text a lot of people that I'm totally shit faced. I only know this because the next morning when I look at my phone there's a lot of misspelled communique from me that means nothing, that all ends in, "B, maybe you should lay off the booze" type thing. Except the one from Ms. VampireS which ended, "No Babies." Touche. Tou fucking che.

Not to worry. Although there was some initial excitement about the state of my buzz, this was all undone by my whispering in my regular talking voice about how "lucky" the phubster was going to get in graphic detail while slurping down pho.

I then got back in the car and fell asleep. For the rest of the night. Because I am that bob damn awesome. Oh phubster, how did you get to be such a lucky, lucky man.

Here's the lesson:

1. Stay away from the Moscato. Moscato is a gateway drink. Not enough alcohol to actually get you super buzzed, but just enough to make you want to keep drinking. Curse you moscato. Curse you (Please come back to me.)

2. Don't infer that your cousin's wife is a nasty freak. You may be banned from all other family functions.

3. Don't talk graphically in your regular voice about the nasty freak things you're going to do to your husband at dinner. Turns out that is NOT a turn on.

4. Don't fall asleep in the car and not put out, because if you're going to embarrass the poor guy that much the least you can do is put out.

So, imbibed too much at a family function, office party, etc? Said some inappropriate things, drunk dialed, drunk texts? I know you did. It's ok to share. This is a safe place, where everyone gets their own colored square, cookies and milk. Please feel free to let it all go....

You Should Probably Never Blog About Your Friends

Ok, so I'm pretty sure that you should never blog about your friends. At least not your sensitive friends. And as I type these words and my friend reads them she's going to light up my inbox and my facebook with hate mail.

Bring IT.

Actually I really like this friend. I think she's the bees mother fucking knees. She's funny, she's sassy, and she doesn't take shit from no one (well almost no one............ahem). She's the first to put you in place and the first to reach out and support you through whatever. She's a cool chick, and she hates that I put our text convo, which again for the RECORD I took way out of context, in my last post. She says she looks like a moron.

I beg to differ. Ahem, (counting in my head before I say something wildly in appropriate). Dear friend you're no moron at all. How you could construe ten seconds of reading time against the 2-3 minutes it takes to read an entire post about how I fell over nothing, and you think you come out looking like a moron is beyond me.

There that's all I have to say about that. This fucking topic is now CLOSED the fuck down. Thank you.

Moving on-->

Said friend also has a sister. A wonderfully witty and quirky individual who I love and miss dearly. Oh sister why did you leave me? Is it because I vomited brownie bits all over your toilet and then you got it on your hand when you went to the bathroom the next morning? Is it because I got so drunk that I knocked over a red jello shot with my boob and it landed on the carpet and you had to bust out your spot bot to clean that shit up? It it because your dog hates Asian people and tried to swallow my fingers and toes whole? If you've answered "yes" to any of the above I am really fucking sorry, especially for the vomit part.

You see dear sister I was doing fine until I realized that while standing still I was swaying out of control. This may have been the signal to stop drinking... sigh... but since I'm a moron (did you read that friend) I may have had another two drinks.

Thank you for getting me a glass of water while I was projectile vomiting, and while strangely enough you were brushing your teeth (I think, things are still hazy). Thank you again for not killing me when the girls knocked over a jello shot, and for not letting your dog eat me. I promise to not ever barf in your toilet again.

Actually I promise to never drink that much again because truth be told I had a hangover FOR DAYS........... and dear friend you're right I'm definitely not in my early 20's and able to binge drink any more... so sad, now how am I going to diet...... just kidding!

Shit and fuck man. That was a crazy fucking night. Where I wore khaki and stripes, talked way too much, gave away wayyyyyy tooo much personal information and ended it with my face in the toilet. I may have also crawled out of the bathroom on my hands and knees and barely made it said friend's bed.... but that's a story for a different time..........

Which is why you should never blog about your friends bitches, because it only brings up embarrassing stories about yourself, shit.