Moral of this story?
Just 'cause you don't taste the liquor, doesn't mean you should forget it's in there.
Took mom and dad out to dinner last night.
Apologize for the lack of details, but. yeah. Coral Reefers are setting up shop in my head.
Oh my god. Jimmy Buffett living in my head. That would be awesome.
kinda already does. Crap. digression.
Ordered a baybreeze. Funny thing about baybreezes...every place makes them different. In this case, hint of coconut. But alot of places...you can at least taste the liquor.
So, right. Baybreeze. Bread. lots of bread. gnocci appetizer. water. big plate o' Aglio e Olivio. One more baybreeze. Two cannoli.
Had an awesome dinner. I think we were all in great spirits thanks to life's sudden tide change. Mom had just completed 3 1/2 years work of hard work and earned her Bachelor's online. (Hence, dinner).
Got home, grabbed the dog's leashes, when everything kicked in.
it was about 9:00 when i said, "Mom, i think my drinks just kicked in.'
Mom flew into action. I chugged a bottle of water. she gave me 2 excedrin.
I'll skip to collapsing into bed and falling asleep almost instantly..only to wake up soaked in sweat, nauseous at 12:30. Unable to go back to sleep for almost three hours.
The dogs were extra extra cuddly, though.
Anyway. I learned that if i'm slightly imbibed and have no one to talk to...i'll talk internet slang as an inner monologue.
It goes something like this:
Lauren is curled in bed. Petting the dogs
"FML. Just...FML. Oh, this succkss. NGL, pups."
No answer from them. whatever.
waking up 3 hours later.
"omg. FML TO HELL."
Then a steady stream of, "GDIAF, self. just..GDIAF."
True story. Dillon and Charlie can attest to it.
Not sure if they will, though, as Charlie had taken up residence sprawled over my chest, snoring, and Dillon had my legs pinned.
The not sleeping part sucked the most, though.
I mean, how many reruns of Sabrina the Teenage Witch and Queer as Folk can one take?
It would seem, as one would say. i have lost the plot.
Oh, back to dinner. In the event of WE'RE GOING HOME, BITCHES, we had an agreement to keep it on the down low.
Then mom goes, "I have a confession. I may have told..someone. I'm sorry? I told Allison." a pause, then she held up four fingers.
It evolved into a game of tapping each finger, and guessing who she told.
Then, i raised two fingers. For some reason, this struck everyone as hilarious. Oh, alchohol.
One finger tapped: Erica. Well, that shouldn't even count, right? She's the whole epicenter to the moving back-adge.
That finger down left me sticking my middle finger up in the middle of a restaurant.
The second person being Pat. Well. Anyway
5 minutes later, i held up three fingers. I'd actually told Bonnie, my former boss from the cat shelter in NY.
Alright. Back to the present.
Things to do:
A) resume applying to colleges in NY
B) Talk to Erica about stuff.
C) Ask Jimmy Buffett to take a short intermission from my head.
Speaking of which...where's my encore CD? I believe i should have it by now.
Took mom and dad out to dinner last night.
Apologize for the lack of details, but. yeah. Coral Reefers are setting up shop in my head.
Oh my god. Jimmy Buffett living in my head. That would be awesome.
kinda already does. Crap. digression.
Ordered a baybreeze. Funny thing about baybreezes...every place makes them different. In this case, hint of coconut. But alot of places...you can at least taste the liquor.
So, right. Baybreeze. Bread. lots of bread. gnocci appetizer. water. big plate o' Aglio e Olivio. One more baybreeze. Two cannoli.
Had an awesome dinner. I think we were all in great spirits thanks to life's sudden tide change. Mom had just completed 3 1/2 years work of hard work and earned her Bachelor's online. (Hence, dinner).
Got home, grabbed the dog's leashes, when everything kicked in.
it was about 9:00 when i said, "Mom, i think my drinks just kicked in.'
Mom flew into action. I chugged a bottle of water. she gave me 2 excedrin.
I'll skip to collapsing into bed and falling asleep almost instantly..only to wake up soaked in sweat, nauseous at 12:30. Unable to go back to sleep for almost three hours.
The dogs were extra extra cuddly, though.
Anyway. I learned that if i'm slightly imbibed and have no one to talk to...i'll talk internet slang as an inner monologue.
It goes something like this:
Lauren is curled in bed. Petting the dogs
"FML. Just...FML. Oh, this succkss. NGL, pups."
No answer from them. whatever.
waking up 3 hours later.
"omg. FML TO HELL."
Then a steady stream of, "GDIAF, self. just..GDIAF."
True story. Dillon and Charlie can attest to it.
Not sure if they will, though, as Charlie had taken up residence sprawled over my chest, snoring, and Dillon had my legs pinned.
The not sleeping part sucked the most, though.
I mean, how many reruns of Sabrina the Teenage Witch and Queer as Folk can one take?
It would seem, as one would say. i have lost the plot.
Oh, back to dinner. In the event of WE'RE GOING HOME, BITCHES, we had an agreement to keep it on the down low.
Then mom goes, "I have a confession. I may have told..someone. I'm sorry? I told Allison." a pause, then she held up four fingers.
It evolved into a game of tapping each finger, and guessing who she told.
Then, i raised two fingers. For some reason, this struck everyone as hilarious. Oh, alchohol.
One finger tapped: Erica. Well, that shouldn't even count, right? She's the whole epicenter to the moving back-adge.
That finger down left me sticking my middle finger up in the middle of a restaurant.
The second person being Pat. Well. Anyway
5 minutes later, i held up three fingers. I'd actually told Bonnie, my former boss from the cat shelter in NY.
Alright. Back to the present.
Things to do:
A) resume applying to colleges in NY
B) Talk to Erica about stuff.
C) Ask Jimmy Buffett to take a short intermission from my head.
Speaking of which...where's my encore CD? I believe i should have it by now.