Sunday, July 5, 2009


Part I of our fourth of July celebration was really tame. We went to the party we go to every year at my husband's friend's house. Jacob enjoyed the sun with us. We snapped photos of him trying to drink out of empty beer bottles because seriously, is there anything more hilarious in the entire world?

My husband's parents showed up too. When they left the party early, they took Jacob with them, thereby handing me my license to party. And party I did. Boy oh boy. In fact, I don't remember the last two hours of the evening. I have only one person to blame: Jagermeiter, that bastard!

I woke up on the couch this morning in clothing covered in drunk drool, seaweed and sand. My eyes popped open the second I woke up. And the world was spinning. And my stomache felt like it had just gone through heavy duty spin cycle. To say I felt horrible would have been an understatement. Here's the thing, I rarely EVER drink too much. I usually have two glasses of wine and call it quits, letting the buzz take over for the rest of the evening. This was the third time in my entire life I had been hungover.

I' was unwillingly horizantal until 9pm and at that time I could finally keep something down. I've been promising over and over to never drink again- I think I might mean it...nah, who am I kidding. But I did try to go grocery shopping with my husband. And boy was that a mistake. All the food stuff I saw made me want to gag and I was perpetually keeled over. Like in the movie The Hangover, I've been trying to piece together events from last night. I discovered little treasures of the truth throughout the day:

"Where are my sandals?" I asked my husband.
"The ones you chucked into the ocean?"

"Did you bring in my bag of clothing from the car?"
"Actually, you puked in that bag."

"Hey, Friend posted some pictures from last night. I don't look THAT drunk."
"This was right before your shirt started coming off and you flashed a couple people."
"Ung! Really? Ok. Lay it on me. What else did I do?"
"You told all Friend1 that you loved her. You told Friend2 that you loved him multiple times."
"Did I at least tell YOU that I loved you?"
"No. But you did tell everyone you were going to give me the best "Blow-J" ever."
"OMG. I did NOT."

Turns out I did. Sometimes it's better to just not know.


Trannyhead said...


I've been really badly hung over like that one time. The culprit was champagne and while I didn't swear off drinking, I DID swear off champagne. To this day I won't have more than one lovely little flute. Something about dry heaving while trying to wash my bloodshot face ended the joy of champagne for me.

Proto Attorney said...

The follow-up question is DID you manage to give him the best BJ ever? Because if you did, you are definitely a rock star!