Drunk Post... Yes!!!

BLAST it being 1am and me having too much to drink (1 bottle of wine + 1 glass of wine = 1/2 bottle and 1 glass of wine too many for Jess). I am spinning, yet not even trying to sleep, and also am downing many glasses of water and crunching on lots of ice. I like eating ice. I know it means something about me-- what of it? Currently also watching Fletch. Don't think I've ever seen it before, but right now Chevy Chase is prancing around a hospital calling himself Dr. Rosenpenis and checking out some dead guy's spleen. What is a spleen anyway? I'm sure I don't know. Also: something about smelling salts, which I have never smelled but am quite curious about. Note: Extra's white shorts entirely too short. The year 1985 NOT AN EXCUSE!

The topic of short shorts made me remember when I was in 7th grade and went to the library with my friend to work on a project. There was some guy there, camped out in the children's section where we were working, playing with himself. He played with himself under the table. He walked past us with his dong hanging out of his too-short running shorts, and he walked over to the card catalogue right next to me with his shit hanging over the top of his shorts. At the time, my friend and I were too embarassed about the whole thing to tell anyone. We instead wrote a letter about it describing the guy and dropped it on the librarian's desk. Now, I'd be all, "EWWW!! PERRRV!" I wish I had done that at the time.

I dont know what that story had to do with anything, but I am drunk. Excuse me.

Scrambled

I drank an entire bottle of wine last night, and though it wasn't too early when I passed out, my eyes sprung open around 6 this morning. I still felt exhausted, but my efforts to fall back asleep did not work. When Alex came down at 9 to leave for work and I complained about this fact, he said something along the lines of, "yeah well, you do have all day."

So I made an omlette. Or rather, I made scrambled eggs with scallions and ricotta cheese. I don't actually make omlettes because I just can't seem to make it work. They stick to the pan, the bottom gets crusty, the inside doesn't cook, and no matter how many Food Network stars I watch, I cannot duplicate. Anyway, I make awsome scrambled eggs.

In other news, Alex and I inadvertantly watched two Abigail Breslin movies in two nights-- No Reservations and then Definitely, Maybe. Both movies were kinda Eh, but you know... I suppose it was to be expected.

Sometimes I wonder if my mailman gets annoyed that there is a Netflix envelope for him to take from my mailbox almost every day. I did call the post office to see if there was a collection box within walking distance to my house, but there isn't! I always imagine him hitting his stride, his bag getting lighter and lighter as he makes all his deliveries, and then he steps up to our house and rolls his eyes when he realizes he has to add something to his bag. I'll leave him something nice around Christmas.

Gossissippi

Psst! I have some hot gossip that I have to share here because I don't have any friends at my new job who would appreciate this...

A's brother M (who is short-term working for A until he takes the Bar) negotiated a deal with a girl's dad (the girl was there) last week, and M, as always, wrote his cell number on his biz card. The girl thought she was being picked up, and so she called him and they went out on a date last night. This would be a cute story except that he is 28 and she is 19, and at first I was all judgemental about the fact that he was taking advantage of a young (but legal) girl in order to fill his 7-months-since-the-big-breakup void. Then I met the girl when they post-dinner'd at our house and she was

• chugging beers like only someone underage would do on a Sunday night. (At the end of the evening, we actually served her a frozen lemon-lime gatorade and told her it was a margarita! HA!)
• dumb. (There was an entire hilarious exchange when she was asking about the rules of Washers about whether it's better to get it in the Box or get it in the Can, and it totally went over her head.)

They disappeared into our house for about 30 minutes, and although I don't think M sealed the deal, I am sure he at least got a little rubbing.

*****

On a related note, does your man share gossip with you? I always feel like I have to force stuff out of Alex because he still holds such Secret Loyalty for his brother. Then, once he spills it, he gets all nervous that I will slip that I know, and tells me like a hundred times not to say anything about it to anyone. I know guys don't gossip like girls do, but I thought that it was a Girlfriend Privilege to get the news.

Drunk Haiku

People have asked me
For three years now why I don't
Become an alcky

I say to them: third
year's a charm! I just had a
bottle of reisling!

Shit-Faced

Coconut threw up a shit-loat (no pun intended) of rabbit turds last night. I'm not sure what to do about this. I spend most of my evenings being duped into taking her outside a million times, not so she can pee, but so she can shove her entire face into one of the many rabbit-holes peppering my backyard and feast on their bite-sized raisinettes. I swear I feed my dog-- her food has gravy in it, even! Why does she insist on supplementing her meals with that??

I'd like to get rid of the rabbits altogether, because I feel like fucking* Snow White when I go out back, with the squirrels and the cardinals and blue jays and jesus christ the only animal shit I want in my back yard belongs to my dog, damn it!

* this is an adjective, not a verb

*****

I woke up this morning to an empty bottle of Jim Beam** and a recording on my microwave (yes, our microwave has a voice recorder-- I know, weird) of some fumbling and a slurred "I love you." It's the little things.

** Since I'm not sure if Jim Beam is even a quality bourbon, I feel compelled to clarify that I bought it for a recipe (bourbon bread pudding!) last November because it was the smallest bottle of bourbon they had. It has been hanging around ever since. I didn't think I knew any bourbon drinkers to consume the rest.

1 Tequilla, 2 Tequilla, 3 Tequilla, Floor!

I woke up at 6 o'clock Sunday morning naked and face-down on the bathroom floor. I'm not sure quite what time I went in there, but my best estimate is sometime between 1 and 2.

That's what a few glass of wine will do to me.

I wonder if I will ever come to an age where, at the middle of Glass Two, I say to myself, "Self, you know that if you drink another after this one, you will wind up naked and face-down on the bathroom floor, so stop when you hit the bottom."

The Threat of the Hangover always seems to stay with me for a few weeks, and then somehow it gets forgotten again. New Year's Eve, for example, I hardly drank at all. I even asked for a cup of coffee because I knew I had started early and still had a couple hours to go.

Saturday night though, I did not have such foresight. We went to a country club for TheBoy's Work Party, and around Glass Four, Alex encouraged me to go up and DanceAttack his boss, who hates to dance, and consequently summoned his wife to come over and save him. (Note: Boss has told Alex that if he ever breaks up with me, he is fired.)

Also? We left the party at 11:30, and hit a bar with FriendandWife for another drink.

Fast Forward to Bathroom Floor, because I'm fuzzy on all the details in-between. (I am picturing Wayne and Garth doing that "dodododo dodododo!" Dream Sequence thing...)

*****

Around 11, Alex left to get stuff for breakfast, and he returned with roses and candy to make me feel better, and he made me an omelette and hash browns and a crossant.

I could get used to this. Almost makes the Hangover worth it...

Monday Monday...

So there wasn't quite the amount of drunken debauchery I had hoped for on Saturday night, but what I will say is 1/2 of a roast beef sandwich at noon was probably not the best way to go about the wine before dinner at 8pm. Good thing Alex has an entire family of drinkers.

Also? I didn't tell you this before, but last week, my debit card was declined for $4 (coffee and a bagel) because, yes, I had a negative balance and didn't even realize it. This caused great stress over the course of the entire weekend, and the stress meant that although Alex spent his entire Sunday with me, I hardly said 2 words to him. I do give him kudos, though, because when the shit finally hit the fan (in otherwords, when I finally broke down crying hysterically and cleaning fanatically) he made me feel way better. He helped me figure out a budget (something I probably should have done way back in the day) and even offered to help me pay off some of my credit cards, although I declined. He was so sweet that I even stopped being fake-angry at him for telling me that his favorite Jess is One-Glass-of-Wine-Jess. Because hell, even I like myself better after a glass of pinot noir.

Green Eyes

I am positive that when I came home drunk last night, I blogged. It was a lengthy, rambling entry, much like how I talk when I am drunk. It was good.

I wish I knew what happened to that entry, because it isn't here.

*****

Yesterday I went to a wedding with Alex. It was a good time... his friend's wife told us that she purposely put our table right near the bar. Good call. The bad call came on my part when I drunkenly told Alex's boss how much I dislike Ann Coulter after he said how much he loved her. I believe my exact words were, "I. Hate. That. Bitch." Oops. I believe there was a hand placed over my mouth at that point, but I don't remember if it was my own or if it belonged to my boyfriend.

Also? The trend in telling Alex all of the things I've ever been upset about since we started dating continued.

Short backstory: Back in the day, when we went to St. Maarten, I overheard him saying something about "I ran into Jamie last week. It was weird." At the time, The Crazy took over, and I spent the rest of the day sulking about the fact that he ran into his ex and didn't tell me, and then I had to overhear him telling his brother about it to even find out.

So um, I held that in until yesterday, when I thought I heard him refer to me as Jamie. After a few vodka and cranberries, I insisted that I heard him call me Jamie, and then on the ride home in his friend's car, I let him know exactly what I think about him calling me by his ex-girlfriend's name. Except. Well. It turns out his ex's name was actually Diana. So then I said that he should have known things wouldn't work out with her from the beginning because you should never date a girl whose nickname is Die*. His friends found this quite hilarious. Alex didn't so much.

I never thought of myself as a jealous person, but it turns out I am, in fact, so jealous that I fabricate ex-girlfriends and hear things that were never said. That is kind of a shitty thing to find out about yourself.

That whole thing aside, we talked it all out once we were alone in Alex's car. I told him pretty much everything I've been holding in since we dated (the good and the bad) and he made me feel totally secure and confident in our relationship. Which I guess is a good ending considering a drunk and jealous beginning.

* No offense to your awesome sis, Christine. I totally love your Di.