37 Babies

I’m pretty sure I got drunk on only two margaritas last night. That’s a recent record for me, probably.

I think that sucking them both down in the space of about twenty minutes may have been related to the super-quick drunkenness.

I could easily have kept going until I was drunk enough to hit on Eye-Boy or until I was just a puddly mess of yuck. But I was there with a bunch of co-workers and I went out of my way to act as sober as possible. I know I was getting a little loud and slurring a little, though, so I started sucking down water and kept everyone chatting for a couple of hours, until I was totally sober.

I’m wearing pantyhose today, bleh, and already I’ve put a run in them, because apparently I am 12. And slingbacks. Well, and other stuff, a skirt and a little sweater and all that crap. Not just hose and heels. Because we have to do a business lunch interview – something that I’m dreading.

Man. I need coffee. And Advil. And sleep.

Also, I watched How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days last night, and it’s one of the chickiest chick flicks I’ve ever seen in my life. Still, Kate Hudson is my girlcrush and Matthew McConaughey is my boyfriend.

Conversation with sisters:

L: Man. Matthew McConaughey is so hot. We’re going to get married. I want to have 37 of his babies.

Sam: You’re going to have 37 kids?

L: Actually, wait. I don’t want the kids.

Sam: You could sell them. Or adopt. Or have 37 abortions.

L: No, no pain or humiliation or childbirth. I just want to have enough sex with him for 37 babies.

Then I went to bed, because I am so tired that I’m saying goofy shit like the above all the time these days.

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