This is just plain awesome.

Moral of the story: Don’t. Forget. The. Ice.

Saturday I went out with a bunch of friends to see The Spazmatics at Liquid Joe’s.

Never been to Liquid Joe’s before. And this is Utah, remember? So I am always leery of new places. Bar/club type places. Don’t ask me why.

Ok, go ahead and ask.

I guess I just feel that bars/clubs in mormon country are an incompatibility. So far, I’ve been proven wrong.

But, there’s always that chance. That one chance that the next bar/club will prove me right.

And you don’t blame me, right? That’s what I thought.

**********

Since The Spazmatics play 80′s & 90′s music, one of the girls had an idea of dressing 80′s style. I was stoked. THEME NIGHT. I know a lot of the crap amazingly awesome clothes we wore back then are totally coming back in style. What better reason to go shopping? So I decide on skinny jeans, slouch boots, and bangles. LOTS. OF. BANGLES. I represented the 80′s well without being, um, like, ohmahGAWD! Gag me with a spoon!

The band was A-MA-ZING. They played THE BEST songs. They played Goody Two Shoes and I nearly jumped on stage. And when they played Rebel Yell? I demonstrated my expert headbanging skillz. Trust me, I’m a pro. You would have been absolutely mortified totally impressed had you been there.

It was so funny how easily I fell back into the 80′s dancing style. The music just moved me. Back a couple decades apparently.

The band took a break from the 80′s to play Alice in Chains’ Man in the Box. And they were TEARIN. IT. UP. Until about halfway through the song when they dead stopped, said that was enough, and launched back into 80′s music again. FUCKERS.

Wha? I like that song!

But what forever sealed the band’s place in my heart was when they played my husband’s most famous song, Jessie’s Girl. Which also nearly got me banned from the bar, bcuz OBVIOUSLY. Bitch, don’t you be talkin about him like that or I will totally stab you. He’s my motherfucking husband! (Ok, so he’s my fantasy husband, but she didn’t know that.)

**********

Towards the end of the show, my hips were starting to hurt. I didn’t worry about it too much. We were all still havin so much fun. When it was time to go, though, I had trouble bending my leg to get in the car. I wish I could I say I was kidding. I finally managed to swing my straight leg into the car and then wiggle my ass to get it into the seat. Whew!

By the time I got home, I could barely get out of the car and walk to the front door.

When the hell did I get to be so old?

I quickly brushed my teeth, cuz it hurt to even do THAT. WTF? Actually, I think that was from going to the batting cages on Friday bcuz I needed to… umm… hit some balls.

Note: The girl at the batting cages counter looked at me really strangely when I asked if I was allowed to paste pictures to the balls that were going to my machine. Wha? I think having that as an option would boost business. STOP JUDGING ME.

Anyway…

I decided that raccoon eyes would be completely acceptable in the morning, since it would only be me and the cat. And she’s mentioned that she likes it when I have raccoon eyes. This would be the same cat that likes to try to lick my moisturizer off my face. Yeah, I don’t get it either. But whatever.

So I crawled into bed (after briefly considered flinging myself on the bed to keep from having to bend my legs) and passed out. Sorta. It was more like Ahhhhhh…ow…OW…OWIE!

Did I mention that I was stone cold sober?

Apparently, if I don’t drink? I’m in pain. So not fair.

Have y’all heard of an AMF?

I see some of you sitting there nodding your heads going, “OH. HELL. YEAH.”

The rest of you? Do. Not. Know. What. You’re. Missing.

AMF stands for Adios Mother Fucker. And the name fits.

This drink, in a state of 3-2 beer, WILL fuck you up nicely.

You’re welcome.

***

I had 5 of these one night and could not talk afterwards (the Sake Bomb at dinner had NOTHING to do with that, I promise you). And I was completely aware of how badly I was slurring my words. So this drink offers you the best of both worlds. You get to BE the hilarious drunk girl/guy & you get to LAUGH AT the drunk girl/guy at the same time. SCORE.

I found the recipe for this awesome concoction and suggested an AMF night at my house to my friends. They jumped on that before I even finished the sentence. Cuz they know it will be full of teh awesome.

So, next Friday, there’s a party at my house. An AMF party. And you’re ALL invited.

Oh? You can’t make it? Well, that’s disappointing.

Honestly, though, you HAVE to try this, so I’ve included the recipe for y’all. Cuz I’m all about sharing. Except men. I don’t share men*. Or knives. Get your own.

*If you’ve heard anything to the contrary, it’s LIES. ALL. LIES. And I’ll stab whoever is spreading those viscous untruths. No wait. That doesn’t look right. Vicous. That looks wrong too. Vishus. FUCK. Just know that I’ll stab you. That’s enough.

P.S. Before I published this, I realized that it said gun instead of gin. I made sure to fix it for y’all though. Cuz I’m considerate that way. I don’t do guns and I don’t want anyone getting killed cuz I was too lazy to proofread my post.

P.P.S. You’re welcome.

A year’s worth of plans, emails, phone calls, and even a few boo-boos here and there finally came to fruition. To say I was excited? Yeah, doesn’t even BEGIN to cover it.

Leaving SLC
My flight was at 7 am. UGH.

I set my alarm for 4:30 am. Stacey doesn’t DO 4:30 am. That is unless it’s 4:30 am because I’ve been up all night playing Guitar Hero and singing ’80′s songs. Then it’s NO PROBLEM. I might as well have stayed up all night since I was up until after midnight finishing my homework and packing anyway. And I figured I would sleep on the plane, which kills two birds with one stone. I had no idea how wrong I was.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

By the time I actually woke up, the clock said 4:40. Yeah, you might be saying, “Wow! 10 whole minutes!” But this is me. Not a morning person. It’s hard for me to get up (I can be down right bitchy) and I need every minute to get ready with none to spare. I tore outta bed and everything became a blur from then until we left for the airport.

One GOOD thing about having a 7 am flight? There is NO ONE on the road. One BAD thing?  No breakfast and NO STARBUCKS! I was cranky, freezing my ass off (cuz I was already dressed for Miami, or cuz I was stupid – take your pick), starving, and badly in need of caffeine.

Got to the airport, checked in with Sky Cap (and was pleasantly surprised to find out that I only had to pay $15 for my bag since we had booked our trip so far in advance), and headed inside. The line for security was AWFUL. I figured I was gonna be there until I turned 50. But then a TSA Agent directed ‘seasoned’ passengers to another line. If it got me in a shorter line, HELL YEAH. I think I was through security in about 20 min. SCORE!

I flew out of SLC on American. Do you know what airline SLC is a hub for? Delta. Not American. D-E-L-T-A. Where are the majority of the vendors in SLC? In the B gates. Which are for? Delta. Where was I departing from? The A gates. Cuz I wasn’t on Delta. Do you see a pattern here? Cranky, freezing, starving, and in need of caffeine, with nothing except a damn Quiznos in sight! And it was almost time to board the plane. *sigh* I was not a happy camper.

I boarded the plane and found my seat. A window seat. I prayed to the airplane gods and thanked them for my window seat. I would be ok. Well, sorta ok. Lemme back up a bit. Those who know me really well, know that I don’t fly well. At all. I HATE to fly. I give white knucklers a bad name. Don’t believe me? Let’s take a flight together sometime. I guarantee you will never fly with me again. I once had a flight attendant watch me VERY closely on a flight from Austin to Chicago, bcuz I was about to break off the armrests. True story.

The plane was fairly empty, we were pretty close to our departure time, and I had my window seat. All was good. And then? A family with a young girl and an infant came to the back of the plane and sat…behind me. And where did they put the young girl? RIGHT BEHIND ME. What did she do the entire flight? Kicked my seat. The parents? Were comin due for a couple of bitch slaps. Seriously? One of the things I drilled into my kids over and over again was about showing others courtesy and respect. I would have done a HELL of a lot more than just saying (in a voice with no authority whatsoever), ”Don’t put your feet on the seat. It’s not nice.” I would be all, “Get your gawd damned feet down RIGHT NOW!” But that’s me.

I almost fell asleep once with my head against the side of the plane, only to have her kick the seat which shoved my head into the window frame. I nearly went over that seat and duct taped that kid’s legs above her head. But then I remembered I left my duct tape at home. I really have to learn to remember that stuff. You just never know when it will come in handy.

Needless to say I couldn’t get off the plane fast enough.

Layover in O’Hare
I totally lucked out. My flight from SLC arrived at one gate, and my flight to Miami departed from the gate right next to it. And what do I see as I get off the jetway? STARBUCKS! I think I might have drooled a little. But then my stomach chimed in with, “Um…HELLO? You haven’t given me anything in like…5 DAYS. ME FIRST!” And then my bladder jumped in to the conversation with, “Well I can make things really embarrassing for you REALLY FAST HERE.” So bladder trumped stomach, bcuz OBVIOUSLY. And then stomach stomped all over my mocha frappuccino craving, so no Starbucks for me.

My friend Michele’s layover was in DFW. Have you ever been to that airport? It’s a hub for American, so I bet you have at some point. Ok, so raise your hands if you EVER had to get off at one gate only to have your connecting flight depart from a gate on the other damn side of the terminal, or better yet, ANOTHER FREAKIN TERMINAL ALTOGETHER? Come on, GET YOUR DAMN HANDS UP! You know you have. Well, this was what she had to deal with. I was calmly waiting for my flight to Miami, while getting texts that my friend might not make her connecting flight. I was crossing fingers, legs, eyes, ANYTHING I could think of to send good vibes her way so that she would make her flight. Which she did. Cuz I haz GOOD JUJU.

Arrival in Miami
The flight from Chicago to Miami was pretty uneventful. I managed to keep my anxiety to a minimum and even chatted a bit with the nice lady sitting next to me. As soon as we landed, Michele and I started texting. Yes I KNEW that we were gonna see each other in just a few minutes, but it took FOREVER to taxi to the gate. And then I didn’t know which gate I was arriving at, so I couldn’t even tell her where to meet me. We finally found each other & set off to take care of priorities (bathroom, food, drink – & not necessarily in that order, except the bathroom. DUH.).

Got our bags, caught the shuttle to the hotel, and met up with the rest of our group. By now my stomach was rebelling. And not from lack of food. We were finally in the promised land. And my stomach wanted something with liquor in it. Now. A shot of 1800 & a Sam Adams plz thankyouverymuch!

Ok. Time for food. Holly wanted Cuban food since we’re in Miami, and we were all up for that. The hotel recommended Mojitos Cuban Restaurant in Dolphin Mall, which is (just what you’re thinking) a mall. (And I had to actually look up the name of the restaurant cuz I totally forgot it. OOPS!) The food was really good and the Sangria was AWESOME!

After dinner, Holly found us a cab that would take us to get alcohol for the ship. Two stops later, we had wine and liquor. We were SET! It was back to the hotel and an early night cuz the next day we were all gonna be sufficiently drowning our livers. No need to overdo it on the first night, right?

To be continued…

I’m posting my fav pic from my camera for each day of the trip (except the last one bcuz I didn’t take a single pic that day, go figure) For day 1, here is the group at dinner in Miami:

Mojitos in the front. Sangria in the back. Does anyone else notice how my boobs are on the table?

A week after my birthday, I had a local bash at Keys on Main to celebrate with my friends here in Utah. Can I just say I love that place? No, really. I. LOVE. THAT. PLACE.

Yes, I hear that group of you in the back going, “Wh-WHAT? What happened to the cruise? WE WANNA HEAR ABOUT THE CRUISE!” I am writing it, I promise. But there is a lot to write about (I don’t wanna leave out anything) and it will prolly be in stages. So for now, bear with me. This story’s good too.

Six of the friends I invited came (Jenn, Michelle, and Sarah aka the girls; plus Roxanne, Gina, and Juan). And some of them brought friends (Cat, Katie, Jenna, and Mark). Some I knew. Some I didn’t. Long ago, that would have freaked me out. Ask anyone that knew me in the ’80′s (and even part of the ’90′s EGAD!). I. Was. Shy. If I didn’t know you, I kept to myself, which might have come across as me being a snobby bitch.  But, I’m a much more social person than I used to be. Now, you’ll KNOW that I’m a snobby bitch cuz I’m totally open about it. Just kidding. Life’s too short for me to be a snobby bitch and I never know who I might meet on any given day.

But I digress.

Gina’s goal for the night was to get me fucked up. I dare say she managed to achieve that goal long before the night was over. Oh my. I KNOW. I am SUCH a lush! I do remember having:

• a shot of Patron
• a Blue Moon
• 3 AMF’s
• a Jager Bomb (Michelle said I better not puke after I drank that. I didn’t. Think I’m finally getting this whole drinking thing down. WOOT!)
• Sips of other drinks (I think EVERYONE had jumped on the fuck Stacey up bandwagon by then. And I had the hangover the next day to prove it.)

The girls SWEAR that I had 5 AMF’s. FIVE. They said they counted how many I actually had, but I think they’re just trying to boost the ego of my inner alcoholic. Gotta love those girls. THEY ROCK!

Note: The last time I had a shit load of AMF’s, I couldn’t walk OR talk afterward. It may have something to do with the Sake Bombs we did beforehand, though. Maybe. And after all that, I didn’t pass out and I didn’t puke. YAY ME!

The girls decided to get me in the limelight early. Kendrick told me to get my ass on stage RIGHT NOW. Well, okay then. I went up there with my blinking tiara and boa (a present from the girls that I wore pretty much all night, when it wasn’t falling off my head. No I wasn’t drinking, I swear!) Kendrick told me (along with the rest of the bar thankyouverymuch!) that I didn’t look 40 and to get on the piano. Hmmm. Lemme think this through. I’ve been drinking. I’m in heels. And I’m supposed to hump my ass on top of a piano? Yeah, I’m kinda thinkin…NO. So I commented that I really shouldn’t get up there cuz it would NOT BE PRETTY. And of course Kendrick responded that he doubted that. That’s when I KNEW he was trying to get in my pants. So we were good. And then he serenaded me with “You’ve got the 60 and I’ve got the 9.” And I’m thinking, not only is this piano player HAWT, but he’s trying to get in my pants, AND he’s a MINDREADER? Yeah, I’m screwed.

Did I ever mention that I can get a little slutty when I drink? No? Well, then just forget that I EVER MENTIONED IT.

When the piano players rotated, we got Jordan closest to us. What a character! I’ve got lots of entertaining pics of him (including one where he was showing me his ass. For the camera. On purpose. THAT’S MY KIND OF MAN! WOOT!)

Oh! I totally forgot about the cones! I GOTTA talk about the cones! The gals that I took the cruise with decorated our cabin (think BLACK) and brought these orange cones to decorate the table on my birthday. The cones were forgotten that night, cuz we were too busy remembering our make-out session with the dolphins earlier in the day. But that’s for another post. Be patient.

The cones say “40-YEAR OLD SENIOR MOMENT”. And they are hilarious. I just couldn’t let them go to waste, so they tagged along for the ride. And became props throughout the night as the group became more and more trashed (think Madonna & you might get an idea of what I mean). I really am thinking of having them bronzed. If anyone can tell me where I can get that done, I will buy you booze. Hey, I figure I’m not the only one who can be bribed. Maybe I am. Maybe I’m just THAT easy.

There were lots of pics taken that night. Most of them I totally remember taking or having taken. And then there are the others… There are pics where Juan is wearing my tiara and boa, but I have NO MEMORY OF IT HAPPENING. None. I can remember the cone ‘props’, but I can’t remember THAT? That might mean something. Which might explain A LOT.

The pics Sarah took are WAY better than mine. That’s because I am still learning my new camera was too drunk to do anything more than sing very loudly off key just plain suck at taking pics of anything but boobs and lap dances. And even then I STILL suck cuz I’m too busy ENJOYING said boobs and lap dances to take a decent picture.

*sigh*

The six of us that stayed to the end of the night are below (I’m the one in the tiara. I know you weren’t sure, so I thought I’d help you out a bit. Cuz I’m ALL about helping others.). What a fun group! If you look in the middle, you can even see the cones, which should prolly go down in history. Cuz they are just The Awesome. Or maybe they should just be burned.

Thanks everyone! I had the most amazing time. We need to do this again VERY soon.

Tomorrow works for me.

Well, I just finished my homework, so let’s see if I can downshift and talk about this weekend. I know there are some curious minds out there. Now, it’s entirely possible that this will make sense to no one else but me. And I will not be in the least offended if you run screaming from this post. LOL

Last Friday is the Rick Springfield concert in Wendover. The show starts at 8pm and the trip takes 2 hrs from our house(especially going down Bangerter). I plan to leave home around 5 pm to allow time for motel check-in and maybe food (big maybe). The husband leaves work at Noon to take our daughter to stay with his mother. Even with travel time, he has plenty of time to get ready. I leave work at 4pm, like I planned, cuz I can’t take the day off or leave much earlier than that. I plan to dress casual, cuz it’s not Vegas people. It’s just Wendover. But I want to fix my hair and makeup a little, though. Anyone who really knows me knows that I didn’t already have my hair and makeup done for work. And I still need to pack a few things. I get home to find the husband dressing up. And I’m all, “You don’t need to dress up. I’m not.” He says he wants to dress a little nicer. Fine. Whatever. I pack my stuff in the suitcase and all that’s left is to change my top and fix my hair/makeup. Husband says he thought about going to the bank, but didn’t actually do it cuz we can stop by on the way out of town. That makes no sense to me since he left work more than 4 hours ago, but fine. Whatever. He then remarks that he didn’t realize this was a dress rehearsal. And I’m all, “Dress rehearsal? WTH is that supposed to mean?” And he says nevermind, which of course pisses me off. So when he does finally answer me, it’s a derogatory remark about me wanting to make myself look a little nicer. And I’m all, WTF? You’re dressing up and you can’t understand why I wanna do my hair and put on some makeup? You left work when? And you couldn’t bother to stop by the bank to save us some time? Seriously? Ok, so that was all in my head, but still. I was pissed. So I go into the bathroom (slamming the door for the desired effect) and realize that there’s no time to do my hair or makeup. That’s just great. Thankyouverymuch. I throw my hair up in a ponytail and come out of the bathroom to start throwing my last few things together. Maybe I’ll have some time once we get there to put some makeup on. I tell the husband that I’m upset about not doing anything wrong, but yet being made to feel really small for needing to do a few things. The husband then decides to tell me to go by myself and to have a good time. I NEED to have a good time by myself, he says. And I’m all, “Absolutely not! I’m not going to give you an opportunity to throw it back in my face later that I was a bitch who kept you from going to this concert! You’re going!” I may not speak to you for the entire trip, but you are FUCKING GOING! Ok, so that last part was an exaggeration. I grab everything except his CPAP and stomp down the stairs. The husband is behind me mumbling how I’m stubborn for not letting him carry anything. And I’m thinking, Dood, you just need to shut the hell up and get in the damn car before I change my mind! I throw everything in the car. And realize I’m starving. I know I won’t be eating before the show and I WILL be drinking. A LOT. That’s a given at this point. So I search the pantry for something to eat and the husband asks if I want yogurt. And I’m all, “Yogurt? And exactly how am I supposed to eat that?” He says with a spoon. And I’m all, “Seriously? While I’m driving?” Cuz I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let YOU drive! We get on the road and he doesn’t say a word. Not one. For like 30 minutes. And I’m thinking, Dood, you are SO not helping your case. He finally apologizes, and for once it actually sounded sincere (Long story. Really REALLY long story.). And he offers to drive so I can get ready. No way I’m letting him drive when we’re in a time crunch. HELL no. So we settle into a slightly less awkward silence for a while, which is just fine by me.

The rest of the drive was uneventful until the last 30 miles or so, which is where we encounter a bunch of drivers that are freakin’ STOOPID. They have no idea of how to drive on a two-lane highway (hint: YOU DON’T CAMP YOUR ASS IN THE LEFT LANE! I’m just sayin.). My tolerance on the road is…oohh…zero. Zilch. Nada. Especially now. So, to get away from them, I end up doing 100 the rest of the way to Wendover. The husband looks over at one point, and I’m all, “Yes, I AM doing a hundred!” Just stay on your side of the car. You’re still on my shitlist! Ok, so I only really said that first part. But the rest was on the tip of my tongue, I promise you.

Capping off the night? The motel. I have a reservation, but there’s a delay checking in. The desk clerk goes to get someone’s help. Oh shit. This other person comes out and says that the reservation was cancelled. Ummmmm, I didn’t cancel my reservation. The new clerk says they have one room available (a suite) that’s $129.95. Ummmm, I STILL didn’t cancel my reservation that was booked at $60. She says they’ll get it fixed. She calls customer service who tells her they cancelled the reservation per a phone call on 9/6/09. Ummmm, oooook. I supposedly called to cancel my reservation that I made ONLINE and no one thought to send me a confirmation ONLINE that it was cancelled? Sure, I totally get that. I do it all the time. Amazingly, I stay calm (I have NO idea how at this point). The clerk says they’ll fix it and gets us a room. I’m all, Didn’t you just say that you only had one room? Sweet, we’re gettin the suite? Niiiice! Oh, we’re getting a regular room? Fine. I’ll take it. We’re running out of time before the show starts, so I don’t fucking care anymore. I just want a place to sleep tonight. Wait! Didn’t you just say that you only had one room left?

We head straight to the concert hall after that and I’m so close to spewing forth the slew of 4-letter words I’ve been bottling up for the past 2 hours. Ask Twitter. I’ve got just enough time to throw on some mascara before the concert. And with a wave of that magic wand, I’m transformed into Princess Cinderella who gets swept off her feet by Prince Charming. Ok, so maybe it wasn’t quite that magical. Rick never got anywhere near me. But I got to see a great show.

And I can’t believe it just took me 3 hours to write this. I was reliving it…..in real-time. Great.

I’ve totally figured out the cure for my insomnia……….going to work.

It’s a payroll week and I’m busy, but all I can think of is closing my eyes and going to sleep.

Fuck people’s paychecks. They don’t need to get paid, right?

Oh all RIGHT! I’ll pay them, but then I’m putting my head down and going to sleep!

Ok, so I keep forgetting that I’m sending things to the printer. I get up to do something else and then realize I don’t have what I printed so I print it again.

OMG I’M KILLING TREES! I should be burned at the stake!

I need to be stopped cuz it’s not enough that I’m killing trees by wasting paper. Apparently I need to burn them down too for my self-mutilation/self-sacrifice.

I’m going to hell.

Good thing I don’t believe in hell.

And that the liquor store is just down the street.

Update: So that last line doesn’t really make sense to me, which means I imagine that it *absolutely* doesn’t make any sense to a lot of people. So, let me add that if I’m going to hell, I’ll be the geeky popular wanna be who brings booze to desperately try to fit in.

Look out Satan…..here I come and I’m bringin’ a keg to get the party started!

I missed the birthdays for my sister’s kids this year. All. Of. Them. The fact that I can’t even remember if I did anything last year for their birthdays is irrelevant. Most of last year I was in a drunken haze. So this year, I set up reminders on Birthday Alarm to help me with my alcohol-induced amnesia. Yeah, well…I think I need to upgrade to the package where they send you a messenger that repeatedly pokes you with a special event cattle prod until you actually DO something to acknowledge the event. To them, not you. It’s all about THEM, remember?

I’m the fucking world’s worst aunt.

So here I am, almost a week AFTER the last of their birthdays, and I am just now getting their cards done. I started with my neice’s card. I figure that at 12, she is much more likely to get my humor than the other two (but I toned it down even for her – no need to traumatize her any more than is standard for the near teenage years). So here is how I try to somehow redeem myself:

Yep I know *exactly* how late I am with this. I do. Many days lately, I am a slacker. Auntie Stacey is a slacker! LOL Even though I am a slacker, I promise you I was thinking of you on your birthday. Were your ears burnin’? I telepathically sent you lots of love, so if you all of a sudden felt warmth and surrounded by a big invisible hug, that was me. We hope you had a great birthday! You’ve grown so fast and I can’t forget holding you when you were a baby. Ok I’ll stop embarrassing you now! Just know we love you! Happy Belated Birthday!

I hope she likes it and forgives me for being such a slacker. Maybe next year will be better. Depends on how much I drink, I guess.

You know how after you do something you just have to “talk” about it, so you journal, blog, call your bff, etc. to tell about it? Well, that might not be the best thing for me to do when I’ve been drinkin’. Maybe it is. I dunno. I remember wanting to write about my BlogHer@Home experience last night, but I do not remember anything about actually writing it. And then I read it. LOL I keep going between “Don’t ever fuckin’ do it again!” (which movie?) to “Maybe you should do that more often!”. Obviously, I’m leaning more towards the latter.

I’m honored to have the http://www.blogherathome.com/ crew visit my site, still being a somewhat new blogger. I (soberly) thank you for a laugh-out-loud funny nite and I really look forward to tonite & tomorrow nite.

I do have to say that I totally meant it when I wrote that you bitches are amazing. And I promise that I can be funny even when I’m sober.

Just signed off from an awesome time at http://www.blogherathome.com/. It was awesome, just fucking awesome. The chat tonite had some awesome giveaways (I didn’t win, but I’m still hopeful for tomorrow!) and some great laughs. If I didn’t have to be an adult tomorrow and go to work, I would totally still be chatting there now.

I’m more than lightly toasted, bordering on half-baked. The husband keeps trying to talk to me, but all I hear is, “Wah Wah…Wah…Wah Wah Wah…Wah Wah” (& if you have never watched a Charlie Brown cartoon don’t EVEN ask, you baby!).

Ok, so I just put on my Beatles CD. WTF? Is this what I listen to when I’m drinkin? Hmmm….not that I can recall, but then again I don’t really remember much right now. It’s probably the booze talking. Or not. I just might be *that* weird. My friends can attest to that.

Anywhoo, you should totally check out http://blogherathome.com/, cuz these bitches are AMAZING! Hope to see you ladies again tomorrow. Thx so much for the hangover that I can complain about tomorrow. You’ll never know how much it means to me. ROFL I should totally go to sleep now. Emphasis on *should*.