When it gets dark earlier you can start drinking earlier without feeling like a lush.
Or at least that's the conclusion I came to when my eyes popped open at six o'clock this morning for absolutely no good reason except to make me painfully aware of how dehydrated I was. This is how I always woke up after drinking as a kid. Which is a funny thing to say because, you know, kids aren't supposed to drink. But they do. Or, at least, I did. Not every day when the sun goes down like I do now (I'M KIDDING), but on occasion. Like when someone's parents went out of town or there was an Aerosmith concert and a friend of a friend got a fake ID. (Chicka chicka yeah, chicka fake ID! You know...McLovin? Super Bad? Oh, never mind.)
Anyway. When Bill woke up this morning he said I smelled like a booze hound. Which seemed a little unfair considering I only partied medium last night.
We watched the Titans game with friends and I had ONE beer and about a pound and a half of artichoke spinach dip. Which I don't even feel bad about because it was healthy and I was in major defensive eating mode. Because after the game, I was headed to yet another fabulous clothing swap and I didn't want to accidentally get wasted again.
But then we left the kids with our husbands to go get our swap on and they were like, "Ooh, what are you going to come home in this time? A trench coat? Something sexy?" Because I have made somewhat of a reputation for myself over the years. But this year was going to be different. This year I was going to be classy. And respectable! Besides, ignore me after I drive home in nothing but a trench coat once, shame on you. Drive home in nothing but a trench coat ever again? Yeah right!
Although seeing my husband with all those kids almost changed my mind...
And then I got to the party and started drinking wine and talking about homeschooling (WILD!!!) and then all the really young and adorable girls left with their hot pants and belly shirts and my friends (who are equally as adorable just, you know, in their 30s) found this little number for me and, well, the rest is history.
By "little number" I seriously mean LITTLE. Like, way smaller than my body. How did I get that thing on and off without injury? No. Seriously. Did somebody help me with that? I can only imagine what that must have looked like...
I also got a whole sack of really cute clothes. And shoes! Not just the red hooker shoes either, some really, really cute ones.
I am so jealous of adorable fashion bloggers right now...
And I got plenty of attention when I got home. Which means, all in all, a successful night! Except maybe the booze hound part. But after a quick shower and a half a dozen coconut waters this morning, I was as good as new. By the time I walked Liam to school, I don't even think I smelled like a hobo anymore. See? Classy and respectable!