Hello, I’m drunk. I have made up for any lack of alcohol consumption from last night by over-indulging tonight. Three glasses of wine. One large glass of Grand Marnier. Some more wine to wash it down with. I haven’t been this… unstable on my feet-ish in a long-ass time.
(Does “long-ass” require a hyphen? Shooting Star- HELP! I can’t find it in the Chicago Manual of Style….)
So anyway. I drank a lot tonight. I ran a lot of spreadsheets. I continue to believe Voss is a little slice of 8 fluid ounces of ecstasy in an overpriced glassy bottle.
My boss tricked me into drinking regular Grand Marnier because I thought it was Centennial shit, and who I am I to let 100 year old alchol go to waste? So I chugged it, only to realize it’s only, like, 10 years old, and fuck, my head hurts.
The transcendental music on the TV is tripping me out, and while I could change the channel to something more MTV-ish, I can’t find the remote, I think because my drunken foot kicked the damn remote under the bed (undirected by my head, mind you) and it hurts to get that inverted to search for it… so under the bed it shall stay, and I shall sit here hating the weird bubbles and la la la stemming from the tube.
My life is rough. Also, dinner cost $2,700. Who knew I could eat that many scallops and fois gras and sherry reduction blah blah? (Well, me and 10 other people.) Plus wine. Ooh, there was lots of wine. I don’t know how any of it tasted, since I was drunk, but I imagine it was good. My stomach feels like it’s going to blow apart in a B- horror flick way.
That’s about it for today. I have a $25 polish change scheduled for tomorrow at the fancy-pants hotel where I am staying. (Their poor taste in la la music is compensated for the bottles of Voss lying around hither and thither) Normally a polish change is, like, $5 for those of you who don’t know.
Whatever. I’m getting black nail polish put on by a professional, so suck it, Lauren from The Hills, who applies her own. ... I think. There’s a black and white ball tomorrow. I figure I can go trendy goth (oxymoron?) since I’m going to need some inner strength to get through the night before the alcohol kicks in. I think they might frown on Jamo shots at a black and white ball. But I don’t care. I’d like to see them catch me in my flowy, perhaps slightly-too-revealing-dress-for-work in their rented tuxedos. Wish I hadn’t over-eaten, for the third night in a row, for the back-less gown.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
Everything sounds fab except the big glass of GM - I prefer just a shot of it on top of my margaritas
Dinner cost $2700?!? I need to get myself a waitressing job. That tip must have been pretty nice.
I need to hang with you apparently. We can drink expensive water and lush it up all the time. And now I'm craving a drink, and it's only 9:22 in the morning. I think I may have a problem.
The way you used it -- as a compound adjective before a noun -- yes, long-ass did require a hyphen. Good job! My grammar's never that good when I'm drunk.
Post a Comment