My head hurts.
Rewind 12 hours...For my little brother's fiancee's birthday, she wanted to go to the local country bar. And by local, I mean right across the street from where I live. So local that a friend and I made up a song about waiting in line there and we named it "Doodle Doo" (we have mad skillz. And by mad, I mean 'drunk'). So I wandered across the street to Doodle Doo and proceeded to drink cheap beer like the locals with my future sister in law's crazy/fun friends. One of the highlights was swapping stories with my little brother. He and I are very forthcoming with the tales when we are drinking and I think we both learned a lot of funny stuff about each other last night. It was one of those golden familial moments (that we won't share with our parents so don't even bother asking, don't worry everything was pretty much legal).
Seeing as I have been chained to my drawing table for the last 3 weeks, when word got out that I was being social my evening got booked with stops I had to make at various bars. I bid adieu to brother and FSIL, leaving my apartment key with them so they wouldn't have to drive home. I wandered to my next stop where my long time BFFs were causing trouble. So of course I joined in. The highlight was asking some bearded guy for his autograph for my friend, Noodles. Okay, not really his autograph. I had him sign Peter Jackson. Noodles was thrilled. And yes, I am totally that girl who will do innocent dares at the drop of a hat (no nudity, violence, or consuming spicy foods...in that order).
After a few more stops and a few more innocent dares (go pet that stranger's mohawk) I made it home to find a pile of shoes on my living room floor. Shoes but no people. I had visions of my brother wandering around town with no shoes on. Then I heard a voice coming from my bathroom. I turned the corner and they're sleeping on the floor. It looked like one of those Febreeze commercials where the people have their noses all smooshed against something only in my commercial the people aren't sober and the rug smells like a bathroom. After I pointed out that my couch is a bed they relocated and all was right in the world.
Three hours of sleep later, I manage to make it to work on time with only a minor headache and some mild dizzyness that seems to be my closest version of a hangover. All in all, a pretty fun night, if I do say so myself.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
6 comments:
Ah the good old days of wine and roses. Back then the wine was Annie Green springs and the roses were Four Roses Kentucky straight bourbon, but good days and nights nontheless. I remember my twenty fifth birthday party vaguely, I woke up the next morning in the bathtub with a waitress from the Sheraton Hotel in Newport Beach.
Good Times, what I can remember of them. Today it's a glass fine shiraz and Nyquil shooters.
That's okay. There are some things a parent doesn't WAMT to know... Believe it or not, I really DO respect my kids' privacy. :)
WANT even. Geez. Stupid keyboard.
Umm, tag! your it!
http://recipeflg.blogspot.com/2007/10/tag-im-it.html
I dunno, there's plenty of stuff I'd say that we readers would WAMT to know. We like stories. Tell us more, and help us feel better about either a) our complete lack of entertainment in our own lives or b) just how bad it stinks to have a hangover and how awesome it is to get to hear the stories without it being your own.
p.s. - Sorry, Sue.
p.p.s. - Actually, I'm not. Muhahaha. You knew I'd do it.
Your dog misses you, too... no matter how much she loves up to Dad, she'll always be YOUR dog. (Unlike the cat, but cats are like that.)
Shafa... we'll talk later. ;)
Post a Comment