Believe me. Be-lieeeeeeve me. I always tell Mike, and myself, "No, no. Just a couple of drinks, won't be long, tah dahling!" And Mike knows. He knows I'm going to pour myself into bed at a completely ridiculous hour, and possibly puke all over myself, jibbering about stupid nonsense and smelling of homeless people and shawarma. He knows me. But he lets me go out anyway (sometimes I wish he would physically restrain me). But, honestly, I always think I'm going to be back in a couple of hours, after just a couple of drinks, I tell myself "you don't need to prove to everybody that you can still party, you can be classy and have some wine"
Nuh-uh.
What ends up happening, every single time, is somewhat different. And not exactly classy.
This I am telling you after maybe an hour of sleep, 3 Tylenol and with my passed out friend on my living room floor at 10 am on a Saturday. Oh, I also have the worst breath ever right now. And my friend is snoring like a rhino. My headache is not gone. Thank god Mike and the baby are gone for a couple of hours. I need silence. And pizza. I have to find some pizza.
My cell phone has flown the coop. No idea where I lost it. Probably never going to find it. Probably never going to get another one. No one calls me. It's hard to have friends when you hate talking on the phone. Which I do. Muchly.
What a pain in the ass I can be when I drink, too. Nobody ever tells me, but they don't invite me out often, either. Hmm.
My birthday's over, celebrations are over, I think today I might just die of exhaustion. I will emerge from the ashes a beautiful phoenix and maybe I'll have a cup of earl grey.
I have to gather up my dignity and pretend I didn't pee on the floor in a gay bar last night. And forget that I ran all over the city for no reason, losing track of everyone and not being able to phone them. Losing your cell phone in the middle of the night? Not good. Not fun.
After not finding my cell phone, I ended up at Franny's. We had a really good heart to heart. I get that way sometimes. I wanted to walk home. She didn't think it was a good idea. It would have taken hours and it was 4 am and we were in a shady neighbourhood. Now that I'm thinking back, I hope her house didn't get broken into after we left... I'm pretty sure we just left the screen door swinging in the wind when we decided it was probably best for me to get home to my family before I got myself into any more trouble.
I need to find pizza.
