Woo hoo!

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So, Mom is doing much better.  She went home today, and I think she’ll make it.  It was a very difficult, sometimes scary, three weeks [and almost six weeks for mom] but she’s doing so much better.  My dad is going to have to learn how to change her dressings [wounds still draining… yuck!] But I know he can handle it.

As for me, I’m sitting here at my new computer, jamming out to Metallica [black album… which is the only one I like, but damn, it’s awesome!]  Unforgiven is playing right now.  I can’t help but headbang to it.  Strange phenomenon, but there you go.

I just did a Netflix instant view [of Heroes, season 2, episode 1, which I’ve had to miss because Dish Network sucks and can’t get locals for me…. bastards].

Holy Crapoli!  This monitor is HD, and it’s amazing the stuff you can see!  I could see the pores on the actors’ faces, the texture of Claire’s hair.  Damn.

The most amazing thing, though is that it streams in with no jumps or misses, and I can actually see the freaking picture… no more black!

Yeah, so you didn’t come here to hear that, did you?  Well, I didn’t come here to tell you that, either.  Actually, I have no idea what I came here to say, only that I had the urge.

I got drunk Friday night.  Ugh.  I’m too old for that shit.  I only blew a .031 [.08 is too drunk to drive.  I think I would die of alcohol poisoning at .08] but I was massively impaired.  Steve has the coolest party favor ever, a PBT which checks your breath for alcohol [which is what I was talking about when I said “Blew”  jeez, get yer mind out of the gutter!]

He also did the horizontal gaze nystagmus test, which I failed miserably. 

Then I puked in the toilet at a stranger’s house.  I missed, and sat in it, so my jeans had pink Spoli puke on the leg, but I didn’t care.  Steve held my hair, ’cause that’s the sweet kind of man that he is.  Then he helped me home, helped me get my shoes off.  I don’t remember if I changed into sweats or not, but I think I slept in all my clothes.

I dunno.  Maybe I slept all night in pukey jeans?  Hang on, lemme ask Steve.

Nope, he helped me put some sweats on.  I remember waking up with them on, but I don’t remember putting them on.  I do know that I was seeing double, so I closed one eye to look at people.  It was a costume party.  We didn’t dress up, but I should have gone as a pirate.  The eyepatch would have come in handy.

Yeah, so anyway.  Steve was a sweetie, but he likes it when I’m tipsy ’cause I get a little frisky.  I was kissing him a lot at the party.  So I guess he was happy to hold my hair back while I put my face in the toilet of people I wouldn’t recognize if I met on the street today, and puked until my socks came up.

Yeah, so I was hung over bad most of the day yesterday.  My mom and dad thought it was pretty funny.  Assholes.  I didn’t throw up anymore after Friday night, but only ’cause I was drugged up on Dramamine and Excedrin and Advil. Yes, I killed my liver after I pickled it, but I was miserable.

I think I went to the party dehydrated, and then they had this grain alcohol stuff that made me buzz after one glass… and then I had three more glasses, plus a jell-o shot.  So anyway, I think maybe I’m too old to party on a regular basis.

I should have stopped after I was buzzing instead of going on to full fledged drunk, but oh well.

I didn’t come here to tell you that, either, but what the hell.

See ya later.

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About Shelbi

Work-at-home wife, mom of three kids, and caregiver for my brother, who has Cerebral Palsy. Never a dull moment, in other words. No idea how much I'll post, since I'm super busy these days, but maybe I'll get over here once in a while.

3 responses »

  1. Now . . . how old are you? I figured out the “I’m too old for this” thing in med school. Late 20s? Something like that.

    I tagged you tonight 🙂

  2. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I really am too old for this shit. I first figured it out over ten years ago, but I keep forgetting about once every two years or so.

    Stupid, I know, but I keep thinking, “Maybe that last hangover was just bad luck.” Because pain and vomit memories fade over time, you know?

    Hee hee.

  3. I used to think I had to “punctuate my life” by getting sick-drunk. End of the school year, end of college, 1st wedding anniversary, that sort of thing. I can remember walking across the Stanford campus — to walk off the booze — when I decided, “This is the last time, because this ISN’T fun anymore.” Not that it ever was.

    I could never be an alcoholic, though. Just don’t like it that much.

    Thanks for doing the meme!

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