General Jackassery

Yuck. Let me begin by saying I am the oldest lady of a 24-year-old you will ever meet. I clip coupons; I save little packets of Sweet-N-Low in my big, ratty purse; I go to bed by 10:30; I faithfully listen to Prairie Home Companion every Sunday evening; I read two issues of Oprah's magazine over the weekend; I make stews and casseroles. I am, at heart, a little old lady. So what the hell was I thinking Saturday night, when I drank and generally just made an ass of myself until 4 am, at my friends Niki and Stephanie's apartment?

First of all, I generally do not prefer obnoxious liquor-filled drinks named after any kind of dessert or anatomy or sexual act. One of Niki's friends, Lee, made a drink that he called an "Oatmeal Cookie," which I tasted and said (cleverly!), "It tastes just like an oatmeal cookie!" Not that anyone should ever want to drink an oatmeal cookie; that's just gross. But I had one of those, in addition to a few vodka tonics, preceeded by a couple beers. Ugh. What kind of grown-ass man makes drinks called oatmeal cookies, may I ask?

I remember a round of Trivial Pursuit, during which I was too drunk to remember that Charlotte freaking Bronte wrote Jane Eyre (seriously, how could I not have gotten that? Easiest question ever) and my friend Brandon asking me if I could, in my drunken state, perform the "Around the World" move from step aerobics (I could--knee and straddle; knee and turn; repeat). I'm sure I wasn't at all obnoxious, annoying, or an asshole, if by wasn't I mean totally was.

Anyway, Sunday was not a pleasant day. I was actually quite sick, and I honestly have never been so hungover that I got physically sick, so that was a fun time. This is why I only get drunk like that a couple times a year, if that. This is why this next weekend, I will sleep, hang up my new curtains, and read.


Random Pictures! Here is a picture of my husband and me just after we got engaged, on Valentine's Day, 2000.

And here is a picture of Lulu, the cat I had in college, in her very glamorous bed. She's not with us anymore, but she was the coolest. I miss her. Please forgive my dorky text art.

Until tomorrow!

emiloo at 10:35 a.m.