9:29 a.m. - 2003-09-29
My head is Tibet.
Nothing makes you a loser like allowing H to make your drinks, and barfing up a lung all night. I get the L.O.S.E.R. award. The party was pretty tame. There was no need for drunken debauchery.
I had made myself a couple of tasty, low-alcohol content drinks to enjoy while listenig to the general discourse of the evening. I settled my butt on the cooler with Sully perched above me on a shed or something, and Sixweasels to our left, enjoying the evening and fresh air.
Then H, being a gentleman, offered to make my next drink for me. He used a about a cup of vodka, splashed on a bit of Diet Pepsi and handed it over. OUCH! Then I got about two more. Eeek!
The evening ended with me yelling after a woman as she left, "Bye cool pregnant lady!!!!!!" to the top of my lungs. She was cool, but I don't think she needed the loud send off. She made pregnancy seem OK if you have a good sense of humor. The woman has missed her calling.
The Boys think its really funny to get me ripped on vodka. Ya just never know what will come out of my mouth when the tongue is loose and the brain is mush. They watch me like I'm a side show attraction. They just sit back and watch hurricane Zencelt work the audience.
Bad, bad Boys!
Then I had to go to the kid party the next afternoon. Oh my good god. Huge bags under my eyes, yawning every 5 or so minutes. And as usual all the kids were screaming "Aunt Zencelt, Aunt Zencelt!!!!!! Come play with us!!!!!!"
Sometimes popularity is a bad thing. They really are great kids. They've been brought up right, with the proper balance of niceness and strictness.
I just wished that my head wasn't swollen to the size of Tibet. Or at least that's the way it felt.
So, back to the grindstone. Ouch.
