Saturday night we had a few friends over to celebrate jparks’ 30th birthday. And this happened:

That bottle was almost full at the start of the party. I know Whitney had one drink made with Maker’s Mark but I think the rest of the bottle was consumed by Jon and I. Honestly, I had no idea this was the case until I came downstairs on Sunday morning (at 7:30am to go for a bike ride. With a massive hangover. I am a machine!) and saw the empty bottle. My first thought was “ohh, shhiiiittttt” and my second was “Ah, this hangover makes sense now”

And because I am one klassy lassy, I apparently went around the party telling people all about my IUD and how I will not be pushing out a baby in a certain month. Shortly after this the party started to clear out. I really have no idea why.

All in all the evening was a good night (at least the parts that I remember), although I think whiskey and I are going to start a trial separation now. I think we got a little bit too serious, too fast and I need a little breathing room in the relationship. Maybe it’s time to start dating other liquors, or perhaps branch out and try some wine every once in awhile. Maybe I should ease myself into a relationship with wine since I’m used to party girls like whiskey. Maybe wine in a cube for starters and then, if the relationship is going well, I’ll move on to screw top wines and finally settle in for the long haul with corked wines. Aw, I think this relationship might work.

Last month two friends of ours eloped and last night was the wedding reception. So there we were at this lovely wedding reception and what do I do? I get totally drunk. Like three sheets to the wind, not sure how I even remained upright, possibly drank more than one bottle of wine by myself drunk. It was not pretty.

I’m not even sure how I got that drunk. I planned on having a few drinks and expected to get a little tipsy, but I seriously didn’t plan on passing out in my makeup when we got home. I woke up this morning with black eyeliner smudged under my eyes. It was not pretty, although it did kinda have that sexy look that I can’t achieve when I’m doing my own makeup.

Most of the people at the reception are not folks we see on a regular basis and when we do see them I’m not normally drinking. I’m now trying to run through the bits of the night that I can remember and see if I said or did anything asinine. God, I want to die just thinking about it. I’m pretty sure I told various folks that I was hot. And then I might have touched a finger to my bum and made a sizzling noise. Booze + 4.5 inch heels + a little black dress + some makeup = Regan feeling all sexy and mouthing off about it to every person that commented on her shoes. (not to linger on an off topic, but those shoes are bad ass. When the salesgirl asked me if I liked them I told her I wanted to go make out with them. When jparks and I got out of the car at the wedding he said “Baby, you look really slutty tonight!” “Uh, thanks honey.” “No it’s a compliment, I LOVE SLUTS.”)

I am just horrified. Did I mention that I’m horrified? I AM HORRIFIED. Sizzling noise! What person actually does that to themselves? Paris Hilton maybe, but not me.

And folks, if I thought I felt like death after that one beer earlier this week, then you can only imagine how crappy I felt this morning. And I didn’t even get to sleep in, I had to get up and go work a Giants game. Thankfully there were fried foods in the suite. Nothing makes a hangover better faster than fried foods. Unless it’s fried foods and a fountain diet coke.

No more booze. No more not paying attention to the number of refills I’ve had. No more skipping a glass of water between drinks. No more making an ass of myself in front of people that might not be expecting that from me. No more touching my own bum and making a sizzling noise. The next time I wear those shoes I can’t let their power go to my head.

Last night Jason and I went to a Toad the Wet Sprocket concert with some friends. The concert was great, we loved the venue, and we saw Glen Phillips’ daughter twirl around with her dress over her head. (Glen Phillips= Lead singer of Toad, his daughter was maybe 5 and was very cute dancing around to her father’s music). After the concert we went to La Fondue for dessert and this is where the evening took a turn for the worse.

La Fondue wants you to think it is a culinary delight nestled in cute downtown Saratoga, but in reality it is a den of gluttony created to give people stomach aches. Don’t believe me? In their bathrooms they have an industrial sized bottle of Tums. See, den of gluttony. The problem was that I didn’t know La Fondue was a stomach ache waiting to happen, I thought it was a cute culinary delight. And when we ordered our chocolate fondues I indulged. I indulged quite a bit. Okay, I went all out and ate more than one human should be allowed to. You know how the fat guy in Seven was forced to eat until his stomach popped? Well, I was one chocolate dipped rice krispy ball away from that point.

Don’t get me wrong, the fondue was wonderful. But maybe it should have been less wonderful so I wouldn’t be forced to eat a boat load of it. By the end of the meal, I was heading straight into a cranky, chocolate coated coma. I was filled to the brim with chocolate, marshmallows, and snickers bars (yeah, they give you snickers bars to dip in chocolate. Overkill? Yes. Awesome? Hell yeah!) and all I wanted to do was sleep.

When we got home I whined about my stomach for a few minutes and then crashed into a sleep that contained some incredibly bizarre dreams. My favorite dream was about Jason being completely bald on top of his head and growing in the sides really long so he could do a comb over. But it was a really greasy, gross comb over but nothing anyone told him would change his mind about it. He loved his comb over and wasn’t going to get rid of it. One night I tried to clip the comb over to a normal length and he woke up and was upset. His beloved comb over was almost no more! So all scissors were locked up at night and he would hide the key. I woke up around this point, probably out of fear, and had to roll over and check his head. Hair still there? Check.

This morning when I woke up I still felt wretched from all of that chocolate. I thought I was a dessert pro, but obviously I am not. The sugar hangover this morning was just as bad as any other hangover I’ve ever had. I barely made it through the first part of the work day. And even after lunch and plenty of caffeine I still just want to go to bed. Stupid La Fondue.

I really don’t mind when people want to come to New Orleans for a vacation. The part that always gets me is when they want to go out drinking I can’t help but go with them. On a week night. When I have to be at work for 8:30 the next day.

You like how I pinned this hangover on Joe? Like some how it’s his fault that Nacho Mama’s was having 2 for 1 Corona’s. Or that someone in our group knew our waitress and she brought over free tequila shots. Or that we had Vanilla Stoli and Diet Coke when we got home. Damn you Joe!

I have a few pics from Nacho Mama’s. I’ll post them here after work tonight.

I think we might have even called my Mom last night. Yay for drunk dialing.

Tonight there is a dinner planned with some girl friends of mine at Superior Grill. I’m not going to drink any margarita’s. Nope, not one. I will demonstrate astounding self-control. But then agian, I am off of work on Friday so I could sleep in and not have to deal with my hangover…

oh god my head. it hurts. can barely hold it up. why did i drink so much booze? why?