  Well, Bunny finally called me back after I left a nasty voicemail on her cellphone, telling her to get her lazy ass out of bed, it was nine in the morning, what was she thinking?? Actually, what the fuck was I thinking? I went to bed at ten (fell asleep, passed out, whatever you want to call it). Now there are two people in my den, sleeping, and I really want to watch TV. Bunny had some interesting observations about the interactions of the party-goers. The men did seem to only socialize with each other (as she put it, "like a junior high boy-girl party").
I suppose I am just used to it. I was a class act, wearing my "Hello, My Name Is High Maintenance" pajamas, no makeup and wild-ass hair. Then I go look at Vampy 's blog, and she and Liz are all sexed up, looking hot (and Liz looking fabulously drunk), and I think to myself, "Why can't I look like that drunk? " I just look like a teenager on her first binge. Oh well. Surveying the damage this morning: 3/4 of a German chocolate cake left; hardly any cheese (those bastards!
) - that Havarti was amazing, thanks mom! ; half of my vegetarian seven layer dip (my mom brought cocktail weinees up - "boys like to eat meat, Carol! "); the Rotel queso is almost gone; not many people touched the hummus (good, more for me!). Oh, and the vodka - yikes. We went through that entire bottle of Tito's (jug is more accurate), half the green apple Smirnoff and 1/4 of the plain jane Smirnoff. No wonder everyone is still asleep.
Except for the Chicken , who is insomniatic. Thanks, "friends," for trying to wake me up from my drunken stupor. I cannot handle my liquor. And don't ask me what happened, because you know I always forget, Vicente. Speaking of Vicente , he was probably charming the pants off some poor, unsuspecting Oakland babe. I could have warned her.
Damn, we didn't videotape the party. Harvey showed up with his young and beautiful wife, Jenny, who does not drink, so I'm sure a bunch of drunk idiots were lots of fun for her. We had an interesting conversation re: the rest of you bloggers out there, and all of our nicknames. People I never suspected of reading this crap I churn out do, and that really surprised me. (Yeah, Marky Mark , I am referring to YOU. ) By the way, please don't refer to me as Carol.
That is my middle name and I absolutely HATE it. Given that, I think I am going to change my name to my father's, which I will not reveal in here so as not to embarrass an innocent man, announcing to the world he has a potty-mouth, drunk-ass daughter who loves CHEESE . Suffice it to say, it's very unusual and would be so cool for a girl's name. Forgive me, fellow vegetarians, I love the animals but will never ever give up CHEESE . Isn't it enough of a sacrifice that I decided today to give up the fish, too? I'm not a saint, you know.
(Like that was ever called into question, heh. ) Today is my buddy Walt's bday. Happy happy, hope your nongirlfriend took you someplace nice last night. Hope you got some, too - everyone should get laid on their birthday. Hell, everyone should get laid every day - we wouldn't have near as much conflict. And a lot less road rage, if you ask me.
My mother was so not happy with her daughter when I told her I offered my neice some hooch. It is my opinion that making drinking seem like one of the seven deadly sins serves to make it seem more attractive to a child, since my parents were teetotalers and look what happened to me. By the way, had she said yes, I wouldn't have given it to her. I'm a mean aunt, huh? I feel a cheese pizza calling my name. Must.
Stay. Away. From. The. Phone. I already went back up to a size six.
It couldn't possibly be that I drank three Cokes this morning and consumed all that alcohol and Coke last night. That cannot be it. I'll just blame it on PMS, like I do everything else. Even though I'm not supposed to have it until next week. Shh , don't tell Vicente. Copyright 2004 Non-Girlfriend 
