…Because they send me hilarious things like this:
In other news…My hands mysteriously smell like garlic. I haven’t cooked with or touched garlic recently so the only conclusion I can logically come to is that Not Boyfriend rubbed a clove on my hands while I was passed out last night.
And I do mean passed out. WOW. I was more than a little intoxicated last night. My friend’s birthday party was fun…and surprisingly I DID play the dancing game.
To borrow a phrase from NB, I owned that motherf*cker.
My friend Lisa went first and after watching her I decided it didn’t look too hard. I can’t remember what song I did but I got a high score and unlocked a few things for Brian. I think everyone was pretty darn impressed…well, maybe not Lisa. She let us all know that she was a cheerleader in high school and then pouted.
Eventually she passed out on the couch and the birthday boy went home so my friend Robin suggested going to the bar. NB stayed sober so I felt the need to drink for both of us. Robin forced me to drink a few jager bombs because she is a horrible person and I’d say I was pretty well shitfaced when we left.
So we dropped her off and went back to NB’s house. I apparently thought I needed to continue drinking, because I guess I just really wanted to make sure I ended up with a solid hangover . Lucky for me Robin had put a beer in my purse (Monty Python beer…it’s goooood) so I popped it open and took a drink.
Then I put it down, announced that I was going to bed and marched my drunk ass into the bedroom where I promptly passed out.
When I woke up this morning still tasting the jager bombs, the first thing I did was ask NB to shoot me. I was HUNGover and my hip was killing me because I slept like a rock last night. I know they shoot horses for less so I didn’t think I was out of line by asking. He had to be all reasonable about it and say no, though. I tried to guilt trip him by saying he really should want to do something to end my suffering and that I’d do it for him but he persisted. Something about how he’s never shot a person and wasn’t going to start with me.
Of course, 4 hours later I can honestly say I’m glad he didn’t. I ate a Dairy Queen cheeseburger and drank a swimming pool-size coke and now all is right with the world.
In fact, I’m feeling so much better that I’ve decided to bake another strawberry rhubarb pie to take to my parents. I like to do things like that sometimes just to solidify my Favorite Child status.