Holiday season, jingle bells, and Vodka are upon us. Nobody loves a good party more than me. I LOVE dressing up, sparkly eyeshadow and bling galore! Last weekend was a major celebration for a dear friend and her husband- one was 40 and one was 50. The 90th birthday celebration was the kick-off to my party circuit. I was gunning… Husband was in a Scrooge mood-shocker! Big parties overwhelm my honey-pie and he keeps his liquor to a minimum. Not to be selfish but the good news is that I always have a designated driver. I pretend that his preference to sit apart is truly his voyeuristic moment to adore me from afar. The fantasy can unravel from there. Kidding! The music blared, the mojitos flowed down my throat, and my friends and I danced the night away. Between conversations, I would rush up to Husband urging him to get into party mode, promising that I would bang him all night long. He would just shake his head. Just as I was practicing a new dance move to “I’m sexy and I know it”, Husband sauntered over to me. Oh yeah, I thought to myself, this guy is going down. He finally has his head in the right place. Just as I was about to blurt out, sure babe, I’ll blow you in the bathroom, he grabs my arm and drags me out of the party. Time to go home baby doll, I can see your party is about to come spilling out of your mouth. NOT! but his grip was too strong and before I knew it, I was sitting shot gun and lolling around the curves of Benedict Canyon. The next morning, I awoke to self-tan and black mascara caked on my face and snow white sheets. I reached for my phone to start the post mortem with the girls about the party. What I saw instead was a picture of me that Husband had emailed to my bitches. Gotta love Husband, he knows just the right moment to save me from utter embarrassment. Thanks Babe, there is another slew of parties this weekend. Please watch out for me!
hahahah it could have been worse…no puke stains.