Halloween House Par-tay

First. Let's have a moment of silence for all the brain cells I killed during last night's party. Yo, my eye-leg coordination was totally off this morning when I woke up. Every few hours I'd flashback, with horrible clarity, to something humiliating and totally ridiculous that I had said or done. Like devouring chocolate covered toffee and drinking Cranberry & Vodka cocktails at the same damn time. Word to the wise: if you've never done it, don't try it. And saying, consistently 3 or 4 times, that "Yes, Adam West is the actual mayor of Quahog. He's Mayor Adam West" during one particular conversation.

Well, Sonny and I were invited to the small but cozy one bedroom apartment of one of Sonny's co-workers. We decided to go out on a limb and dress up for the celebration. Sonny was Clark Kent and I was Hip Hop diva, Kelis. I sprayed my hair with red-orange "nightmare hair color" and Sonny donned his sexy-ass, gray, double-breasted suit. We were quite a pair. Anyway, by the time I left the party I was talking about things that didn't make sense to me, I was so drunk. Even in my screwed up state I knew I wasn't talking sense. So I turned on the Zen Sleek in the car and started singing 80s pop songs. Yes, my voice warbled like a sun-melted vinyl record. The rest of the ride home was in self-absorbed silence, with me opening the window on the cool night air. Sonny thought I was losing it but I simply didn't want to hurl on his front seat. Again.

I continue to tell myself that the morning after heavy(ish) drinking, is not worth the greasy, thick tongue-in-mouth and the cranky, rolling stomach. It's not worth the sad resistance to light, noise and vigorous activity. I'm kind of disappointed in myself for having stayed indoors all day on such a lovely, dry day. But... I did refrain from vomiting anywhere so I guess that's an esteem booster right there :) Anyway, I think being drunk is an experience that every designated-driver-having individual should go through. It becomes quite clear by 1 in the afternoon the next day, when your stomach is too weak for toast and your head feels like the Rockettes are high-kicking inside your skull and just the smell of your own deodorant induces a dry heave... that you should leave the drinking to the pros. Shit, I'll stick with girly drinks that evoke giggles and deep conversation. Thank-you-very-much.