Drink. Drank. Drunk.
2005-06-05, 12:44 p.m.

Drink. Drank. Drunk.

Oh my good heavenly Lord, people. I don�t know whether I�m still drunk or just hungover. Last night was a bit of a fest.

It started out innocently enough with Mexican food and one Michelob Ultra �The Beer That Makes You Skinny and Good Looking and Sexy�. That�s why I�m so skinny and good-looking and sexy. Then DW, Don and I went back to the house to watch a bit of basketball and wait for the Mighty KB to call us so that we could assemble at what is more and more commonly being called The Fag Bar among our circle of friends (it�s not, it�s a piano bar, but my homophobic husband supposes that if a gay person were to go out drinking around here, it would be at this bar) for a few drinks.

Which turned into 3 glasses of wine for me, chickens, and I don�t metabolize my alkiehol all that well. So this morning (and it�s really not technically morning anymore, is it?) I am all confused and disorientated (disorientated enough to say things like disorientated) as though my neurons are not firing together as a unified team. It�s as if my timing chain is a bit, um, off.

Some highlights of the evening include Don and I making up a system of elaborate hand signals and facial gestures to signify: Weasel, Badger and Wolverine, and the following conversation wherein DW hooted loudly at me:

Me: My mom has a woman she wants to set Don up with. She says she�s tall and slender, and very cute, and that she has a cute personality like mine-�

DW: YOU? A CUTE personality? HA! I�d call your personality a lot of things, but cute isn�t one of them. Did you guys hear that? Laura�s mom called her personality cute??? More like mean as hell, is what I�d call it.

Me: But I�m kind. And I�m fun and funny.

DW: Oh, yeah, you�re funny as hell. And mean as a snake.

Me: I�m mean as a badger (and here I commence to doing my Weasel, Badger, Wolverine hand and face signals, with Don joining in).

DW: What the hell are you two doing?

Me: We�re weasels.

Don: I�m a badger.

Me: And I�m a wolverine.

I�m collapsing in a fit of giggles even as I write this. I�ll have to figure out how to get pictures on this here journal because Weasel, Badger, Wolverine is not to be missed.

There was this exchange, as well, after Don and I had made fun of DW about something or other, as we are wont to do:

DW: I hate it when you two get together. All you do is make fun of me.

Don: Well�

Me: Baby, you know we can�t help it. You set �em up, and we just drive �em home.

DW: Bend over and I�ll drive you home. Oh yeah, I�ll drive it RIGHT home.

Don: Eww.

Y�all, DW and I had sex twice yesterday. It�s amazing what going out together and having fun, and having sex twice in a day can do for a strained relationship. But if there�s one thing I�m not good at, it�s drunken late night sex. I like it in the early afternoon, stone cold sober. Before the festivities. I have no drunken libido. All I wanna do is dance dance dance. Let�s listen in on the sexy pillow talk that got DW laid late last night:

DW: Do you think we can do it again?

Me: We�ll need the lube. You know what I�m like.

DW: That�s OK. I don�t think I can finish anyway.

Me: Are you going to know when to stop, or are you just going to keep trying and trying and trying?

DW: I won�t try for too long.

Me; OK, when the big hand is on the 6, you have to stop.

Hee! See how sexy we are? Do not disturb the sexy.

Here�s the morning-after conversation:

Me: We had drunk sex last night, didn�t we?

DW: Yes, we did.

Me: We did for a long, long time.

DW: Long for us, yeah. About ten minutes.