It seems to be just about that time….
|Imma tell you a secret…..
gimmie yer wine, and I won’t
shank you, yet….
I’m not even going to begin to lie to you and say that I heard all kinds of interesting things this weekend while I was out and about. I didn’t.
And if that wasn’t bad enough, for some reason I decided to take it a step further and send out the following tweets:
Officially shit faced and loving it
LET the drink Skpung begin
Ur can’t read. Us toys bag?
Finished a ngihtly of ey’re hi nearly is thIrd bag
Looking drynk svary is thIrd bad?
At this point I think I did actually pass out, in the middle of the bed, fully clothed, with the lights on. And since the phubster is such a loving and caring man he did wake me up at about 3 am to make me drink about 5 gallons of water because as he put it, “I’m not cleaning up your puke, and I’m not dealing with your headache tomorrow. Drink the water.” Ahhh, such a loving man, how did I get so lucky.
In all actuality, I did feel really good the next morning. No hang over whatsoever. I was a little tired, and a bit light sensitive, but other than that I was feeling pretty chipper which may be due to the fact that it was the first uninterrupted night’s sleep I’ve had in about ohhhh 4 years. In fact I was feeling so dandy that I got up, made breakfast, bathed the children, and started the laundry. I even had an in depth conversation with the phubster about the rest of the night that I couldn’t remember. It’s apparent that when I get really, really, really trashed, I get very—> apologetic. According to the phubster I spent the majority of the night apologizing for the following things, breathing, sitting down, opening the door, lying down on the floor, brushing my teeth, flushing the toilet, talking, walking, moving, scratching my arm, having children, making him buy me dogs, etc. In fact snarksters, I apologized so much, that I am banned from saying the phrase “I’m sorry,” for at least the next six months……… later that afternoon I crashed hard, on the couch for four hours or so….what, I’m old….
The final score:
Phubster: NOT (<– I am so on to your game you bastard!)
Soooooo, what’d you do over the weekend? Drink entire bottles of vodka, make it rain up in the club, hear anything scintillating worth sharing? Do tell….. Can anyone figure out what the hell I meant to tweet up there? If so, send your interpretations and I’ll give you a prize, or a virtual hug and pat on the back, whichever is cheaper….