I am going to have to blame this on one Christine. She MADE me do it.
She took me on a girls night out. I innocently ordered and drank way more than I should of due to continual and relentless peer pressure.
My usual beauty routine consists of grabbing any nearby outfit and putting my air dried mass into a messy ponytail, and taking about 12 seconds to smear some crap on my face with a touch of mascara. But to go on a girls night out when unpracticed at attempting to look "hot", well, that takes a bit more time. But I did it. I managed to find one of those outfits in my closet of mom clothes that not only makes you look tall and skinny, but also makes you feel like a "hottie". Compliments of a bunch of hair extensions my husband would faint over if he knew how much I paid for them, and I was ready to be a bar barbie.
Like I said, all credit is due to Christine, who totally forced me to grab her ex boyfriends butt each time he would walk by. Christine forced me to tell all his friends that no man (one claimed he could, that's how it started) last longer than 15 minutes. IF I remember correctly, I clarified that intercourse timing does NOT start with foreplay and end with cuddling. I am talking about the actual..you know. Anyways, a man on booze will NOT admit to ever shooting his gun before at least an hour has gone by and I flat out told the men (the table was becoming oddly crowded with them) that they were full-of-shit. Thankfully, my wedding rings have created a large white indent on my otherwise tanned hands, so no one has to worry about what I said about my marital status. They all knew I was married. Oh yah, they knew. But I must say, most of them just frankly, don't give a damn. I say this all the time and truly believe in its wisdom..."flattery is flattery" , after all.
One kind Italian guy who was celebrating his most recent sons arrival frankly admitted (was that his name? LOL) that I was speaking the truth, and a truly "happy" guy does not take longer than 15 minutes to shoot his gun. Ha. I win.
I won until the day after. I got up at Christine's, forced back on the outfit that now seemed too tight and awfully uncomfortable and drove my sorry arse home. Turns out the motion created some motion sickness that lasted ALL DAMN DAY. My mom watched the kids so I could be pressured into the drinking and was now off duty. I resorted to carrying around a popcorn bucket to barf in each and every time I was forced to move. Granted, the kids gave me a great day, Olivia imitated my barfing and slapped my back (what support) and Svea gently rubbed my back and offered me kisses. Her breath....OMG...made me nauseous, but I already felt guilty enough being a total dead beat mom, so I had to kiss her back, but it is the thought that counts. Even Hayden was a champion yesterday.
Anyways, I survived my night out with the girls. I had a great time. I payed for it completely, and today is a new day.
So yah, thanks Christine (and Tara...so far I have left her out of this, but she is not nearly as innocent as she looks) for a good time and even better hangover.
Until next time....