Thus Going Back on Everything I Just Decreed Yesterday

Things have been a little stressful at work, recently. So when a coworker (whom I also consider a very good friend) suggested retail therapy and a glass of wine after work, I was all over that like Hunter S. Thompson on a small mountain of shrooms.

We carpooled in, and counted down the excruciating minutes of a Very Long Monday (all 484 of them, we didn't get in until almost 9:00) via "How's it going over there?" e-mails. Despite the fact that we work about 16 feet apart, I often don't see her all day. We are that lazy. Also, princess-like. Shit should come to US, man.

So 5:00 finally deigned to come around. And we hustled ourselves on over to the mall. And CPK. Which is, like, our favoritest place for wine, ever. I don't know why. We are both a little more versed on wine and enjoy snooty wine bars... but CPK's selection isn't bad, and they have some very affordable appetizers. Also, we like routine. Why fix what ain't broke?

We both order a glass of cabernet. The waiter peered at us over his nose (as self-righteous as you can be when wearing a CPK apron) and said, "That's the same wine. It would really be more cost effective to just get a bottle."

I swear he smelled the stress emanating from me.

I did not need any more convincing. That was a fine, fiscally prudent argument, as far as I could tell. Shooting Star (that's my friend's name, and no, she's not a damn hippie, I just am in a peace & love mood today [see next paragraph on consumption of full bottle of said wine] and Shooting Star fits her better than Moonbeam) nodded in agreement, and the bottle was immediately brought to our table. I was starving, and inhaled the bread, (mmm, bread. bread and wine. I could live off of that combination. truly.) and "sipped" my wine.

We had a lovely conversation about boys, and boys, and sex, and boys. Work is a purely pre-cabernet discussion. I felt the relief that only comes from a good chat with a girlfriend, and we stumbled off to the card store, where I announce very loudly, "Do you think it's OBVIOUS we're drunk?" And Shooting Star turns a nice shade of pink, and shakes her head politely, all, "I don't really know her, I'm just humoring her because obviously SHE'S plastered."

(Side note: half a bottle of wine and I get drunk. That is WEAK. I swear I am losing skilz as I get older. Very sad. Cheaper fun, though!)

We buy about $45 worth of cards.

Each.

And decide our damage is done. Fortunately, my car is parked back at SS's house (Shooting Star, in hindsight, was a very long name to bequeath her, when I end up having to write it 40 bazillion times) so she drives us home.

Or, at least, tries to.

(She swears she's fine. We really did spend over half an hour in the card store, and ate a rediculous amount of appetizers, and she did NOT feel the wine like I did. Props, SS.)

Let's back track a little to our arrival at the mall. (Which we have been to, oh, 13 trillion times. Give or take a dozen.) We go into the parking structure, up a little ramp, and park.

To get out, you would think you would go down a little ramp, and exit.

But no. As usual, the universe decides to fuck with me AGAIN (are you seeing a theme?? Suck an egg, Mr. Universe. .. No, wait, I totally take that back. Please just stop messing with me. You're very handsome, you know that? In all your expansive Big Bang-y-ness) and we follow the exit signs. Around. And around. And around. SS is TOTALLY following the signs, doing exactly what I would do. And yet we go up. We go down.

"Um, isn't that our parking spot?"

"Huh. Yeah. You would think we'd not need to lap by it, five minutes later, in order to exit."

"You WOULD think, wouldn't you?"

So we continue past our old parking spot, thinking, "Hi old friend," and also, "We've said our goodbyes. No need to drag this out. We'll be back, we promise."

And go down the ramp.

And then down another ramp.

And then down another ramp.

And then down a FOURTH ramp. And then, lo, there is the exit onto our street.

"Funny, didn't we only go up ONE ramp on our way in?"

"Yes."

"And yet we had to take four down, to get out?"

"Apparently."

"huh."

"huh, indeed."

But we made it home without further incident.

And I feel much better this morning. Despite the hangover.

Amended decree: Drinking mid-day at wine festivals is the ONLY way to go, unless you are really stressed and there is a good friend and a bottle of cabernet involved. Then 9:45 p.m. on a Monday is totally acceptable.

Also: If going to the Cherry Creek Mall, (Do you see what restaurant they featured in the picture?? Do you SEE?) do NOT park in the parking structure on the east side. It is some kind of physics-defying vortex of confusion. Guard your purses and small children.