• A really good waitress - one that is attentive, anticipates your every need - is a great thing.
• A really good waitress - one that is attentive, anticipates your every need - is a great thing… UNLESS it’s New Years Eve and you’re in a bar and started drinking at 4:30pm so you can toast the British New Year at 6pm. Because every time you finish your vodka and cranberry, that good waitress pops up right next to you and asks if you’d like another. And, since the last one hasn’t hit the “You’ve had enough, ej. The world is starting to looking less shiny and more blurry” mark yet, you keep saying yes. And when you keep saying “Why yes, I’ll have another…” you end up on the floor of the bathroom at 3am regretting a whole lot of things - especially the invention of vodka and who’s every dumb idea it was to toast every county’s New Year.
Yeah, that really good kind of waitress is the kind of waitress you don’t want.
• It is imperative that Husband and I are not drunk at the same time, because the dogs cannot take care of themselves.
• And speaking of those dogs, they sure as heck are incapable of taking care of us while we’re lying on the floor in separate bathrooms, dying. I should have remembered that part from Broken Ankle when I was lying on the driveway and they brought me a Frisbee and a shoe. I did not. When you have drunk most of the bar, a soggy, headless Lamb Chop will not make the puking all better but thanks for shoving that squelchy wet thing in my face, Tigger the Dog. Husband said he kept calling for help and Joseph would just at paw at his arm and drool on his face. Useless.
• Apparently no matter how old I get, a hangover sucks. And the older I get, the suckier they get and longer to get over they take. And no matter how old I am, I forget that key bit of information when the nice waitress offers me a millionth vodka and cranberry.
• You know you’ve had WAY too much to drink if you get home and can’t remember if you’ve a) paid the bill and b) tipped the waitress. It’s been years since I’ve done the Walk of Shame but I’ve never done the Walk of Shame INTO the bar FOUR days later to ask if we paid and/or tipped. Mortified. In my defense, we’d left the house with $100 and came home with $2 so we thought we were good. Until I found $60 in a pocket and had to concede that nope, we had likely not paid OR tipped. Not the best start to the New Year.
On the other hand, I have yet to die of embarrassment, so there’s that…
• Husband and I know a bunch of interesting and entertaining people. When we get them all together in the same place, magic can happen. We forgot that last year - the bringing together part. We resolve to do better this year. But sober.
So far, this year has been interesting, challenging, and hysterical and no day has been the same. Hangover aside, that’s a good start, right? Fifty-one weeks to go!