This is the time I wish I'd saved a post for a rainy day. I'm bored and it's raining AGAIN. I know Greg is all turned on by my wet hair; but it's frustrating all the same. Oh, and hon, I got the baggy sweats on again today. Right off my floor. I know you like the baggy sweats look, but how about the two day old baggy sweats look?
I'm starting my own countdown for New Orleans. 18 days. 18 days to get tan, all nekkid, all over. 18 days to assemble wardrobe. 18 days to lose weight...
eh, just kiddin' ya. I don't need to lose weight. And actually I've got most of the wardrobe already. I bought an actual string-tie bikini. And I swear I won't tie knots in it either.
Funny how some of us are headed to New Orleans and we aren't going to be there at the same time. Ok, not funny. Sad. Kinda sad.
As this was a banner weekend for the drinking, I think I'm venturing on a wee break. Thursday night I watched a little Troy with a little beer (ok, like three. And some whiskey. But who's counting?) On Friday night I stood around the kitchen island in my kitchen with Virtigo and proceeded to get absolutely shitfaced drunk. I mean, I put whiskey IN my tea. (I'll just apologize now, publicly, for all the melencholy talk of death and religion and anything else stupid I said; which was probably about everything else.) Saturday night we went to see Sin City, which, frankly, despite the gratutious violence, absurd situational comedy, and the clever one-liners, dragged a little. Oh goody, he's pounding that guys's head into the floorboards. Oh, look, the blood is yellow this time. Anyway, there were microbrews before and after. I'm just too old for this shit. The hangover finally hit me on Sunday. Yesterday I went out to lunch with a friend and they offered me a FREE mimosa and I politely declined. Actually I was offered twice. And I politely declined twice. But a third time... man if they'd been pushing it on me a third time I would have stood up and yelled, poking the guy on his chest with my stiff little fingers, "Get off my fucking ass about the fucking mimosas already! I don't want one! Which part of the last two no, thank yous didn't you get, you irritable little metro? Back the fuck off or I'll turn you into a fucking Pez dispenser with this butter knife. But of course, your shirt is SO last fall at the Gap, so the blood stains won't matter much. Oh, and can I get some more iced tea? I'm just a little dehydrated today."
But, fortunately, he brought me tea without asking, so it didn't have to come to that.