That's not excitement, that's a hangover.

Blog. Blog. Blog.

See? This is why I don't usually blog on the weekends! I'm so invested in whatever other shenanigans and hoopla that I just don't have it in me to type anything witty out for you people. Not to mention going out two Saturdays in a row, free cosmos at ladies' night, and more drama than the alcohol...has left me with limited brain cells.

And seriously, I'm not a drunk. As Jenn said, I'm more of an amateur than a lush. I can't hold my liquor because I don't usually drink. And since peer pressure and the promise of "we love you when you're tipsy" have replaced the little angel and devil on my shoulders, I usually end up saying (or screaming) things like "ME ME ME" and "somebody walk me to the bathroom" by the end of the night. So three mixed drinks involves me needing an escort to the bathroom because I can't balance sitting down, much less walk myself across a bar.

Somewhere in Arkansas my mother is googleing rehab centers in Louisiana.

I did have a lot of fun! And I certainly wasn't the worst one of the bunch. We all got to see different sides of our fellow Mommy friends, and it was both entertaining and heartwarming--enough to make me puke. Or that could just be the hangover.

Today's subject line quote is Mr. Humphreys, "Are You Being Served?" (1972) {Cold Comfort (#2.2)}.