Not a big surprise, really.
Ohhh God. I'm old.
So last night, The Fiancé (I can't wait until the wedding when I can just call him The Husband and stop using that damn accented e which is a massive pain in the ass to type) and I decided it would be a good idea to get slizzard and play Rock Band.
This was the first time I had ever seen him drunk, and only the second time he's ever seen me drunk. And it was hilarious and I think at some point I even randomly started singing along while playing guitar. We destroyed a bottle of Jack Daniels and a bottle of Asti (okay, there's still Jack Daniels left, but the Asti is gone). I remember proving that I can, in fact, burp really loudly. I remember giving my "drunk people are honest" speech. I remember admitting that I went out with Howie "My Belt Got Caught" Whatshisname (and if you don't know that story, I'm sure I've told it somewhere in this blog before).
Anyway, it was totally awesomely fun. Until about midnight or so, when I was all, "uh oh". And I kind of remember getting into the bathroom, but I definitely remember The Fiancé holding my hair back and flushing the toilet after I barfed. And I definitely remember that he finally lured me out of the bathroom and into bed by telling me that "Ghostbusters" was on TV (because, y'know, when I'm throwing up from drinking, I don't often like to leave the bathroom).
I woke up this morning around seven thirty and groaned to The Fiancé "Ugh, I'm old". To which he replied, "So am I. I just threw up." And then he staggered back into bed and we slept until eleven when I asked for a bagel, ate it, and went back to sleep for two more hours.
I still feel a little off, and very tired, and all I can think is, when we finally move into our house? We can have people over and do that ALL THE TIME!
Also, I apologize. I've done what I always swore I wouldn't do--I went and got engaged and kind of stopped blogging. But the thing is, I spend a great deal of my time driving back and forth, so when I get home, I just fall into bed.
The good news is that in 34 more days, we get our house, so you'll go back to reading daily ridiculous content from me. The bad news is that it will probably be a lot of complaining about unpacking boxes. It's okay, though. I'll try to make it funny.
So last night, The Fiancé (I can't wait until the wedding when I can just call him The Husband and stop using that damn accented e which is a massive pain in the ass to type) and I decided it would be a good idea to get slizzard and play Rock Band.
This was the first time I had ever seen him drunk, and only the second time he's ever seen me drunk. And it was hilarious and I think at some point I even randomly started singing along while playing guitar. We destroyed a bottle of Jack Daniels and a bottle of Asti (okay, there's still Jack Daniels left, but the Asti is gone). I remember proving that I can, in fact, burp really loudly. I remember giving my "drunk people are honest" speech. I remember admitting that I went out with Howie "My Belt Got Caught" Whatshisname (and if you don't know that story, I'm sure I've told it somewhere in this blog before).
Anyway, it was totally awesomely fun. Until about midnight or so, when I was all, "uh oh". And I kind of remember getting into the bathroom, but I definitely remember The Fiancé holding my hair back and flushing the toilet after I barfed. And I definitely remember that he finally lured me out of the bathroom and into bed by telling me that "Ghostbusters" was on TV (because, y'know, when I'm throwing up from drinking, I don't often like to leave the bathroom).
I woke up this morning around seven thirty and groaned to The Fiancé "Ugh, I'm old". To which he replied, "So am I. I just threw up." And then he staggered back into bed and we slept until eleven when I asked for a bagel, ate it, and went back to sleep for two more hours.
I still feel a little off, and very tired, and all I can think is, when we finally move into our house? We can have people over and do that ALL THE TIME!
Also, I apologize. I've done what I always swore I wouldn't do--I went and got engaged and kind of stopped blogging. But the thing is, I spend a great deal of my time driving back and forth, so when I get home, I just fall into bed.
The good news is that in 34 more days, we get our house, so you'll go back to reading daily ridiculous content from me. The bad news is that it will probably be a lot of complaining about unpacking boxes. It's okay, though. I'll try to make it funny.