Y'know itsh vewwy hawd to bwog when yer dwunk. Speling goes away. So doesh coeherintsy. For that matter, I'm not shur I had a bwan at th momen. For shome reashon, my fwendsh *not sharcashm* thought I desirved shampain lasht night.
(whew! this is hard to do when you're hung over!)
Drunken lingo aside, needless to say today I feel like (an) ass. It's not that I can't hold my licquor, it's just that two bottles of Moet Chandon champagne is too much even for one of my vaunted alcholic professionalism. it's not that I have a hangover, really--more like a 24 hour period of brain farting. *sigh* What fun.
And, of course, tonight I get to g0 into work and listen to everyone tell me how much fun I had.
Cretins. I think tonight it's time to break out my old-standby punishment shot: a German Taco. This is usually the drink I give to people who think I *owe* them a shot because it's their birthday--whether I've ever seen them before or not. The recipe is quite simple: Float 1/2 oz of cold Jagermeister over 1/2 ox of warm Cuervo. So far, I've only ever met one person who liked the damn drink and he was weird. Pretty much everyone else hurls.
Bet you this is the last time that they ignore me when I say "No, thank you, I don't want any more."
I should be ashamed. *grin*