wine is not water.

Friday night was wino night with the girls at my friend's house. 

Her hubby was out of the state for a teaching conference or something, so we had a group of us, all with a bottle of wine (or 2) in tow.

For some reason - I was ready to drink, drinkk, drank.

After skipping lunch, I had a couple pieces of pizza and a beer.

Then the wine shenanigans began.

I was putting glasses of wine back like no one's business. 

Like I'm actually serious, I was drinking like 2 glasses to everyone's maybe 1.

Along came midnight, and my realization that I better get the fuck OUT.

So without saying a word, I disappeared upstairs to the spare bedroom and promptly passed out with my feet on the floor.

As it goes - 45 minutes later two of my friends realized I had never returned.  So they ran upstairs to retrieve me.

They bounced me around the bed, tossed me around a bit, attempted to stand me up, before I removed my footwear and slipped under the covers after telling them to fuck off.

They returned to the party.

Apparently (I say apparently because I have no fucking idea what actually happened, HELLO BLACK OUT CITY), but apparently I booted in bed.

I awoke, realized what happened and removed myself from the bed.

Rather than head to the bathroom, I headed to her master bedroom.

I must have gotten all a-fluster after booting some more on her floor (which I cleaned in my drunken stupour thank you very much) - because I booted some more but attempted to hide it.

After this all occured, I took my slightly puke covered self and got under the covers in her bed.

Uhhhh, classy, I know.

Eventually my friend came upstairs - found the puke in the spare room - rounded up all the blankets and sheets and threw them in the wash.

She then returned to her bedroom, aka my new location.

Where is the puke Twiggs?

I didn't fucking puke shut up.

It smells like vomit in here, you puked in the other room, and I need to know where it is.

Shut up, I didn't puke.  I cleaned it up in the bathroom.

You are the only one up here, you did puke, now tell me where it is.

Then she opened her window curtain.

DO YOU SEE THIS?

I drunkenly sit myself up to take a peek.

I didn't do it.

DO YOU SEE THIS?

Ummm, is that puke on the window?

YES, IT IS PUKE.  ARE YOU FUCKING MIA HAMM AIMING FOR THE UPPER 90?!

Yes, friends, not only did I puke at the window - I puked in the upper left hand corner of the window.  I then promptly shut the curtains, hiding the disaster.

I finagled myself out of the bed and proceeded to drunkenly clean the window with toliet paper.

Pretty sure it was unsuccessful.

I then changed out of my attire, threw on some sweet plaid jammies, and walked back down to the still going on party.

I announced that I arose from the dead - threw my hands in the air - and then walked back to bed.

I called my sister and relived the experience with her.

She hysterically laughed.

I did not.  I was mortified.

I then fell asleep with my dog and my friend's dog on the bed.

I woke up, bought everyone brekky (the humiliation I felt and puke still in my hair was free).

I eventually dragged my sorry ass home after repeatedly apologizing to my friend.

Several hours later she sent me a text - I think you need to purchase us some nice candles.

Which I did and dropped them off that day.

Honestly, I have not ever gotten to that point of drunken vomiting.  NEVER.

Apparently I do not know how to gauge my wine tolerance. 

Seriously, please remember that only 2 weekends ago I was ripping shots of vodka, whiskey, having mixed vodka drinks, and beers.

But wine.  Nooooooo.

Perhaps I needed this slap in the face.

With the slap, I officially concluded that I will never again drink wine like water.

In fact, I will likely not drink wine for a very long time.

Barefoot Moscato, you've officially been ruined.

Damn it.

elevator issues.

Friday night was wine night with two of my friends. 

By wine night I mean I drank an entire bottle of wine, a couple bottles of beer, and with their encouragement proceeded to facebook wall post an absurd amount of things and text like 15 people all at the same time. 

Solid choices.

I went to bed at 2AM and woke up at 6:30AM, laid around feeling like death, and then eventually forced myself to move and made it to my soccer team's team breakfast a half hour late.  At which all the girl's ragged on me (seeing as they are in high school, I'm pretty sure they know I'm a mess).  It was awesome.

I then skipped out of coaching the game (I co-coach you see, so I can do things like that, phew).

I ran home, walked the dog, took a shower, packed up all my bags filled with a ridiculous amount of clothes and shoes, and drove to a photo shoot.

A photo shoot that was set to begin at 1PM.  Seeing as the make-up artist set this up and the photographer was cutting me like a $600 break, I decided to be early (weird).

I arrived at 10 of 1.  I called my sister.

She was due to arrive at 1:30PM (really?!).

I called the make-up artist, no answer.  I tried 3 more times.  Still no answer.

I didn't want to be rude to the photographer so I decided that since I was nearing the point of pants peeing I should head inside this old warehouse, find a bathroom and his studio.

I went in and hopped in the elevator seeing as I knew his studio was on the 4th floor.

Up the elevator went and upon reaching the 4th floor it stopped.  I waited for the doors to open.

Only they didn't open, they just made a noise like they were opening and then closing.

Hm, well ok.  Let's try this again.

So I hit the door open button once more.

Same thing, just noises....no door movement.

I start to mildly panic.

Seriously I'm in an old warehouse turned studio situation and I'm stuck in the elevator.  WTF.

After several minutes of what the hell am I going to do.

I tried the open door button one more time.

This time I realized the doors were opening behind me. 

Like you walk in the elevator, it goes up, and you get out on the other side.

Honestly, I'm like a mother fucking brainiac.

I found the bathroom after wandering around the building and then I found the studio, which was empty.

No photographer, no make-up artist, no sister.

I went and sat in my car and waited.

Eventually everyone arrived and the shoot started at around 2:30PM.

It was a good thing I busted my ass to get there on time.

whirl-wind.

Ups & downs, galore.

Let's begin with last week.

I went on an interview with my dog for volunteering on a children's unit.

Following the interview, me and my sister went out and got sandwiches for dinner, ice cream for dessert, and took a stroll on the beach.

Which was the best stroll ever, considering it was my dog's first time on the beach.  HILARIOUS. 

He had a flippin' ball.  Running in fear from the waves and attempting sprinting while sinking in the sand.  The two of us almost peed our pants laughing.

The next morning he woke up, and couldn't eat, drink, or open his mouth.

That afternoon we had an emergency vet visit.

Which led to the scheduling of emergency mouth surgery the following morning.

He had an infected abscess in the back left side of his mouth.  He was a sorry case, let me tell you.

And then yes, 8 pills a day for a dog that just had mouth surgery.  Now that effing makes a girl's life simple.

He got to the point of refusing to take anything I offered.  In fact he wouldn't even come near my hands.

He went a few days refusing food entirely, so then we re-supplied on pain meds, and we are slowly making a come-back.

On-to Saturday night.

My sister was going to be attending a photo-shoot and asked if I wanted to come along and hang out.

Mmm, ok.  Sure

So we went to this artist's studio, who was fucking amazing, honestly it was stop you in your tracks paintings.

We hung out with a few other girls, had some wine, and then the conversation suddenly turned to including me in the photos.  Pray-tell what?  Mind you I strolled in in jeans, moccasins, and a simple tee.  These girls were in their heels and dresses.  Fantastic, I fit right in, obv.

So I drank some more wine and said, sure I'd give it a go.  So I put on an extra black dress my sister had packed, another girl's heels, and had my make-up done up.

Then I was pulled in front of the camera for a shot with the artist who asked me to look up at him, and then kissed me.

KISSED ME I TELL YOU.  AND HELD IT FOR PHOTOS.

FUCK, what did I get myself into.

Mind you the artist was in his mid-late 50s, if not 60s.

The night was a whirl-wind of adventure.  My sister and I had a bunch of shots taken together, which was fun. 

Over-all it was a really cool experience.  I can't wait to see the photos.

Let me add in here, that the artist told me I was the answer to all his dreams.  Yes, me.

He now wants to wine-me and dine-me.  In fact he asked how I would deal with his world-wide fame.  Considering he's doing a painting right now for Lionel Ritchie which could ultimately result in me meeting my fashion idol, Nicole....I would deal just fine thank you.

However, he has like 40 years on me.

Could I possibly be that much of a gold digger?

He's invited me out on a date already, I put it off.  So opinions on this would be greatly accepted.  What would you do?! 

Then Monday morning arrived, and with it, a job offer in Yellowstone National Park in MT.

Fucking AMAZEBALLS.

Only the answer to all my dreams, duh.

Small town at the entrance of the national park, cowboys, horses, and wide open spaces = my heart.

They offered slightly more than I'm making now (which with what I make now, I fall deeper and deeper into debt).

They found me an apartment that I could rent on a month-to-month basis, 1 mile from the office, and they even said I could bring my dog to work.

Honestly, hello dream world.

After a week of torment over this decision and ultimate how could I not take this opportunity clarity, I sat down with my Dad to put together a spreadsheet of expenses, etc. to see how it could work.

I have zero savings, a lot of debt & bills, and my parents help me out monthly.

With what this position was offering as a salary, I would be in the exact same financial situation just across the country.

FUCK ME.

I called them today asking for more money.  They can't do it.

I fucking hate being an adult and making "responsible" decisions.

I'm probaly going to be kicking myself in the face for quite a lengthy period of time over this.

Minimally, I need to drink copious amounts of wine.

Immediately.

bring the barefoot.

So, I apologize for being neglectful and more or less MIA.

One of my best friends got married last weekend, you may have read a few previous posts about me ranting embracing all the extras an MOH gets to do, and it ate a whole lot of time up. 

Work also made me want to throw around a few judo chops because it was insanely busy with last minute crap my boss dropped on me.

Anyways.

The wedding was beautiful, my friend looked amazing, and everything went smoothly.

Thank goodness I felt inclined to fulfill my MOH duty and make sure some delish wine (Barefoot Moscato, YUM) was available for the night before the wedding (where we boozed like whoa and crashed in my bed with the a/c on arctic air). 

Thank goodness I also packed an extra bottle for pre-wedding jitters.  It also helped me to look like an alcoholic in all the pre-wedding photos. 

I mean what wedding would be complete without an MOH trucking into the venue in sweats and a bottle of wine under her arm.  Photos from our getting ready room also featuring me filling cups repeatedly, aka wine bottle ALWAYS in hand.

Suprisingly I didn't cry during the ceremony.  The only tear I shed was when my friend's Dad walked in the room immediately before and welled up.

I promised my friend I was her rock, and with a few "Word to your Mom, we came to drop bombs" thrown in to get a grin, we got through the ceremony, which was beautiful.

Then it was on to photos - where I swear I was such a by the book MOH it wasn't even funny.  Legit, I had 3 gin & tonics for the bride at one point, triple fisting, say whaat. 

I also fluffed the shit out of her train for every photo.

Then we had a pre-toast before heading into the reception.  Where seriously, no one knew what to say and no one jumped in - so I dropped a little Biggie Smalls into the mix.  Big hit, that one.  It also loosened the others up to encourage a few shout out toasts.

Then it was onto being introduced - where me and the best man threw a few punches, Rocky style, obv.

First dance, kisses, and all the jazz.

DREADED toast time.  I nearly peed my dress it came up so shockingly quick.

Somehow, I actually got through it, without passing out.

It was weird.

Without further adieu, here is the toast I gave (note 1: this wasn't given word for word I just needed some bones to work with, note 2: I also memorized the bones so that I didn't need to read from a paper):

First of all, thank you all for coming.

For those of you I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting yet, my name is Twiggy, and J and I have been a part of one another’s lives since we were 4.  So, you know we’ve been through thick and thin.  From elementary school gym shows, embarrassing concert attire, and going for scary walks down the road in the dark, to varsity soccer play-offs and writing graduation speeches, to wearing matching sweat bands to our first soccer preseason away from one another, endless phone calls, and absurdly hilarious visits to one another’s schools.  Although a lot of things have changed for the better, like doing away with poorly chosen hairstyles and oversized attire, lots of things have stayed the same too.  She’s still a total crack up, the most loyal friend anyone could ask for, and an incredibly loving, capable, and fun person to have around.

So, of course I was beyond honored and happy when she asked me to be a part of this wedding, that’s the very first thing I felt.  The very second thing I felt was probably what a lot of Maid of Honor’s feel, fear.  Uh oh, I have to give a toast.  For those of you who know me, you know I do NOT speak in front of large groups of people.  So, J I must seriously love you a lot.  And you owe me, big time.

The funny part is, I knew both J and M before they knew one another.  I worked with M several times before summer fast approached and I was switching roles.  J informed she was to be taking my spot. 

The first thing I told her was wait until you meet this guy Mark, you are going to LOVE him.  I just know it!

After her first evening of work, I received a phone call at about 11:15PM. 

I know exactly who you are talking about.  I was running a bit late, which if you know J is an everyday thing, I walked into a meeting and there was one seat left next to this guy.  He looked up at me and OH MY GOD, are you kidding me!?  Sigh, I’m in love.

From the get go I was getting phone calls on the update of their romance or it was frequently discussed on our morning runs.  It’s now progressed to me having dinner, wine, and watching a movie during the pauses of our dog's playing sessions, once a week. 

I have loved watching this romance bloom.  M is a fantastic guy!  He’s funny, friendly, super easy to get along with, and can be pretty talkative once you get him going, just don't bother trying to get him going when something important is on the tv.

J has just blossomed since M came into her life.  When J met M, it was obvious from the very beginning that he was the one.  There was something different about him and she seemed to light up more than ever before. 

I so look forward to the watching of the future of these two.  I know that J and M will last a lifetime with each other.  They just seem to have that certain something about them.

So please raise your glasses while I propose a toast: 

As you sit side by side through this roller coaster of life, remember to scream from the peaks, hold hands through the dips, laugh through the loop-de-loops and enjoy every twist and turn, for the ride is better because you guys share it together.

Separately you both are very special, remarkable people, but together you are complete.

So, to love, laughter, and happily ever after!

I love you both!  Congratulations!

Once that was over, I started guzzling some drinks.