and, you know that rumor about drinking water while hungover? (and you'll get all drunk again)... well, it's true!

and i know this because at brunch (because eating huge egg-laden meals does wonders for hangovers), i drank lots of water.

p.s. - i am a dolt.

p.s. - when he asked me if i "had id for this beer", i said "no thanks".

ah. youthful and senile at the same time... i am a conundrum.

p.s. - when he asked me if i "had id for this beer", i said "no thanks".

ah. youthful and senile at the same time... i am a conundrum.

do not fill me with sake then hand me a sparkler. but if you absolutely must, at the very least, put me somewhere out of reach of the box of fireworks.

that is all.

and why, you ask? why... because dickhead called to anger me! grr!

ooo... i hate that guy.

and every night i will make him sing me to sleep. tonight i request "it had to be you". because it had to be me... now sing it, baby!

good harry. now i won't have to kill you.

ps. you have no idea how many times i had to edit this post. geez!

1. ask her for her ID.
2. bring her three vodka and cranberry's (heavy on the vodka) in quick succession.
3. be male.
4. be redheaded.

1. she draws cocktail napkin maps of south america and proclaims the center of the landmass to be jennifertopia.
2. she tries to bite the handsome waiter.
3. she explains in great detail, geriatric mark's oral skills.
4. she makes fun of squat's new man's last name (let's just say it claims he is a great wanking man).
5. miscellaneous goofy behavior, including but not limited to, speaking of herself in the third person.

---

i have been thinking of going to vegas to meet with my darling dearest kris. but if i go, i'm gonna get drunk. and most likely stay drunk... and when i'm drunk i'm easy (hah! who am i kidding? i'm easy all the time)... oooh, you're so gonna get laid, kris. you are so gonna get laid.

but, i tell ya one thing... if i go to vegas, i'm getting wayne newton to sign my boobs. and maybe i'll throw my panties at zeigfried and roy... and if i can get kris drunk enough, i'm gonna make him marry me (but don't tell him. it's a secret).

sure, technically i'm married, but i'm not really married... i'm only married in the eyes of the lord! and maybe the 50 states. and everybody knows that doesn't count!

but, anyway, we'll be married by elvis. that way we'll only be married in vegas... and maybe graceland.

---

self pity time: i am being forced to work 10-12 hour days ALL WEEK! and lunatic strategically placed a bowl of peanut butter m&m's near my desk... yeah. all the peanut butter m&m's in the WORLD could not make up for this.

just for that, he's going to have to deal with a hungover me every single day this week. and let me tell you! a hungover me is not pretty! in fact, it's pretty much guaranteed that i'm going to look pissed off all the time.

---

and lastly. i am loving kool & the gang right now... wa-hoo!! it's a celebration!

--

and really the lastly... i'm feeling adventurous. call me. (206) 324-3563.

quick! before i come to my senses.

there is also nothing wrong with smelling the waiter.

or commenting on the shapely-ness of his ass.

nothing wrong! i say! NOTHING WRONG!

fuck. i'm a FANTASTIC parent!

and you know what's funny? five drunk people trying to figure out their share of the tab.

and you know what is also funny? ... five dorks sitting around wasted talking architecture. my god! i'm hangin' with dorks!

and you know what ELSE is funny? yep. pretty much everything, when you're toasted.

hoo hee har har!!

"cocktail"

go on... say it 10 times in a row... see?! hahahahaha! cock? tail? hahahaha! fun-ny!

i also learned at the bar tonight (yeah, again... shutup), my favorite homosexual tells me that anna nicole smith's new show is HIL-AR-IOUS.

he has also informed me that nissan makes trucks smaller than her ass.

HUFFERFUFFENHUFFEN!!

i also propose we start using the word "intercoursey" in our everyday conversation (you know, instead of "sexy"). because it is a cool word and because it was invented by me. i am copyrighting it as of right now.

"intercoursey" ｩ 2002 bumblebeesh.

there. it's mine.

this is day three of operation abstinence... i still maintain that i have not broken the rule.

• wussup with tamyra's hair? it's straight?! what the fuck? where's the 'fro, girl? FRO! we want FRO!

• who let in randy's mynah bird? ... oh wait, that's just paula abdul. *arp*
  

• nikki. yeah. she's singing. ok... move along.

• song selection is key! *glug*

• kelly, kelly, kelly... if i could sing like kelly, i would just stop talking completely. i'd just belt out everything... "who want's chineee-eeee-eee-eeee-se for lunch?"... believe me, you'd like it.

• and she is just so cute! she should be my little sister! then i could take her places and point to her and say "look at my cute little sister! why, she's almost as cute as me!"... or maybe i'd just sing it.

• mmm... sideshow justin... juussstin ... oh, was he singing?
  putz says: "what a fag."

• oh god, paula just compared tamyra to celine dion. way to make the girl kill herself, paula.

• why are all the white girls in the audience standing? and clapping? and off-key? ... damn. i thought this was american idol... but i think it may actually be a lesbian convention.

• oh.. paula says "tonight is yours"... i think it's time for another drink. *arrrr*

• hahahaha! the words "i'll swallow" appear in kelly's song...... BAHAHAHAHAA!
  putz says: damn, you need to get laid.

• editors note: to vote for kelly dial 1-866-IDOLS-03. or something like that. don't ask me... i've been drinking.

• from paula: touchdown! *glurg*

• damn. justin is sucking..... aww. but he's so pretty. so who cares? i just want to look him try to dance... yeah, it's funny. but, like i said, "pretty!"... and, hmm, i just saw his ass.
  putz says: "fag"

• jennifer has stopped listening. but she is assuming paula cried, someone said "you're all winners", and she's having a really hard time typing and drinking and watching american idol and listening to putz bitch all at the same time. so she's just going to stop. but not the drinking. that will continue.

my favorite homosexual: "that's not flirting, that's pure evil"

me: "hey! i can hear you!"

mfh: "well, you should. you're sitting right there, and i was talking LOUDLY."

---

things that should not be attempted while drunk:

• dancing to "funky dunky".
• standing up.
• sitting down.
• saying the word "ask".
• drinking.

previously drunk: 1

but, umm, i think i might've taken a picture of my boobs and sent it to somebody.

whoops!

ahh. this is, by far, the BEST! HANGOVER! EVER!

and have i ever mentioned my deep abiding love for JOE CLUB? yeah, i didn't think so either.

i told you i didn't need no man! i have THIS!

did anyone else notice that the label on soli vanilla says "genuine russian flavored vodka"?

why, if russians taste like that, maybe i'll start licking them!

-- insert conversation with butterball --

jennifer: what does that mean "may not be at computer"... what kinda farce is this?
jennifer: farce? farse? ... um. yeah i'm going with the original FARCE
jennifer: also i am going with the vodka.
jennifer: i am going to be one with the vodka
jennifer: i am going to embrace the vodka
jennifer: i am going to fortify the vodka
jennifer: with cranberry juice
jennifer: it's all very zen

-- end conversation with butterball --

did you happen to notice i'm the only one conversing? ... yeah i noticed that too... after a couple minutes.

---

BEWARE FAINT OF HEART! i will now share with you, my bj haiku, as requested by the poopmaster:

please do be careful,
to not poke the gag reflex,
i don't want to puke.

and if this is an accurate recount of the conversation, then i think i gots me a problem.

hello!! it had nothing to do with the conversation! just out of the blue! i'm all

"HEY! LOOK AT MY BOOBS!"

sure, i've always done that in person, but now i'm doing it on the INTERNET? eek!!

and now i give to you, reasons why margarita thursday is fun:

1. margaritas.
2. my favorite homosexual's theory on alien abduction becomes plausible.
3. my ability to sing is greatly improved.
4. getting away with calling the waiter "senor enchilada".
5. get much needed exercise because i have to pee so bad that i sprint the last 3 blocks home. pee. must. pee.

because i am a responsible parent!

You know though, he was a pretty good dancer for a muppet.

I am drinking a martini! At work!

Ahhh. This is the life. Getting paid to hang around with the fruits and drink fruffy yuppie drinks that taste like envelope glue.

Ah, delicious envelope tape! How I love you! *Hiccup*

But in other more sobering news... My bra is cutting off all the circulation to the lower half of my body! I CAN'T FEEL MY LEGS! I CAN'T FEEL MY LEGS!

Sweet Jesus, was I ever drunk last night... Please remind me not to go out with that many queers at once. It was not wise! Not wise at all!

Although, I did get fabulous advice on what to do with my hair, what colors I should wear, and a new skin care regimen... Too bad I can't remember any of it.

Also, I had the following discussion:

My Favorite Homosexual: You are so a top.

Me: No I'm not! I'm a bottom.

Homosexual #2: Top!

Me: Bottom!

Homosexual #3: Toppy top top top!

And then? When I got home? I decided it would be a good idea to send drunken emails where I claim that I do not smell like semen and type my name "Hebbufer".

Hey. How come beer gets a coaster, but water can just sit on the table? Is beer glass sweat more corrosive than water glass sweat?

I'M CONFUSED!

Also of note... It's, like, WAY easier to walk home all drunk when you have a bunch of other drunks to bounce off of. Plus, if you fall down, somebody will attempt to pick you up. Not me, of course, but somebody else will... Probably.

:beer:

Man. Do you realize how hard it is to walk straight when your boyfriend took you out and made you drink four Canadian beers on an empty stomach?

I look like a vagrant!

What with all the stumbling thru traffic, and the bending down to make sure my toe wasn't being stung by a bee, and smelling my shirt all the time.

I'm so going to get arrested.

But can you blame me? THE MAN SMELLS LIKE GRAPEFRUITS! GRAPEFRUITS! I cannot stop smelling him! It is irresistible! And interferes with my ability to walk down a crosswalk in a straight line! Help!

I am helpless against the grapefruit! Help me!

:frustrated:

Bah!! Absolutely everything went wrong today at work... Except for the part where I got a picture from the site with My Pretend California Boyfriend in the background... WITH NO SHIRT ON!

Lordy, lordy... I needs to make a trip down to San Diego. To get me some Gorgeous Half-naked Construction Site Pretend California Man Meat Boyfriend... Or whatever.

But now? I NEED A FLIPPIN' DRINK! And since nobody is around to go with me, I have to go to the bar all alone... Just like the little crack whore I am.

:drunk:

PS. Look! I made the smilie macros work! I'M A GENIUS!

PSS. Last call! This is the last call for getting your own gen-u-ine Hawaiian postcard! Send me your mailing address now!

There should be a warning label on beer... Besides for the regular warning label, there should be one for hungry people.

What the hell am I supposed to do with an entire pumpkin pie, 2 Hostess Ding Dong's, a pint of Ben & Jerry's Brownie Batter ice cream, a box of mini peanut-butter Ritz crackers, and a package of tiny frozen pizzas?

Brenda claims she doesn't know anyone who drinks at work as much as I do.

Well, you'd drink too if you were me. Although I don't like to call it "drinking" as much as "having excellent coping skills".

But, you know, if people keep freaking me out and then just leaving me all alone to deal with it, I am going to stop using alcohol to cope, and instead use karate chops.

You know... When your regular bar/restaurant starts referring to whereever you sit as "Jen" ON YOUR TAB, you may want to consider going to some AA meetings.

But then, if you were "Jen" you'd have an alcohol tolerance the envy of most fat men, so screw it!

Anyway. It is BUTT ASS COLD in Seattle tonight. My ears are in danger of falling off, and my ass? Well, it's padded, so everything there is OK... But my face? It's a freaking popsicle.

Or "popscicle", if I hadn't corrected my spelling... Or "pospsicle" or "popicle" or, my favorite, "oiosucke".

And look here... I rule. And suck. All at the same time!

Tonight I have to go to a party, and I am not really in a party mood... But my TV is going to this party, so I can't not go... Just let my TV out alone on a weekday? Why. That's horribly irresponsible!

But pour a couple martinis in me, and I should be just dandy!

... Now where's that phone number for the substance abuse hotline?

Tonight? I got carded....

Hysterical 32 year old laughter.

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Ba ha ha haha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha hah! Ba ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha hahahahahahahahahaha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Bahahaha ha hahahahaha ha!!!!!!!

I'm going to meet my friend Suki for drinks tonight. Which means I will be drunk by 8pm... And, maybe just drunk enough to write drunken emails for your entertainment! Woo! Let's hope you're one of the chosen!

But I have this one problem... You see, every time I mention my friend Suki to people they all say, "But, I want a friend named Suki!"

All I have to say is this... GET YOUR OWN DAMNED SUKI, MOTHERFUCKERS!

PS. If this entry doesn't make sense, blame in of the heifeweizen. Heffeweizen? Hefferweizen?

I like how when I'm drunk it makes perfect sense to spell "often" like this...

A-U-G-H-F-E-N

Also, did I ever mention how much I hate wordplays on the word "Hawaii"? Because that Joe Average 2 preview where that guy says "Ha-wa-ya" makes me want to punch him in the teeth.

Good grief, can I kill you now? Or do I have to wait 'til later? Because, OH MY GOD, I hate you!

There's nothing like whacking yourself hard in the teeth with a pint of hefeweizen to let you know that... maybe... possibly... you've had just enough to drink.

Oh, happy hour. I love you.

Reasons why I don't think I could ever not live in a gay neighborhood:

1. Less likely that lesbians are making out in the corner of the neighborhood bar.
   
2. The bartender's are less likely to threaten to spank me.
   And according to them, I'll like it, missy!
   
3. Hello? No gay people!

1. 2 beers = Tipsy as HELL.

1. Apparently, Absolut makes an Absolut Citron CANDLE!
   [Insert orgasm here.]

1. Leave dorky messages on :geriatricmark:'s voicemail like, "HA HA! Lucky you!"
   Oh, yeah. You have a narcissistic girlfriend! "Lucky" you!

1. Just tipsy. Not inebriated.
   
2. It's only 7:00.
   
3. Might see lesbians make out again.
   
4. Getting really irriated by idiots outside screaming "Blaine? Blaine?" at my building. And booze will help me to be more aggressive.
   
5. Need booze to come to terms with the reality that I am, in fact, the goofiest girlfriend ever.

There's a Sunkist sticker floating in your hefeweizen and you don't even notice until it's stuck to your lip.

Which is SO very sexy you wouldn't believe it.

Annnnnnnd discuss...

Why not celebrate your holdiay like me? By getting bloody stinking drunk over lunch? Horray... Err. Horray? Ho ray? Ha ha! That's like x-rays for ho's. Ha ha ha! Ha! ... OK. So may be I'm only funny to me, but so what? I'm drunk! And at work! I'm fanulous! I mean fabulous!

Yeah!

1. What is it about going out alone that invites scrawny, unattractive men to hit on me?

2. If you have to watch boring sports on TV at the bar, there ain't much that'll pass the time faster than making up REALLY GAY commentary to go along with it.
   
   
3. Cornholing is the Funniest. Word. EVAH!

4. It's really nice living in a community where people are passionate about their politics and all, but if I have to have one more conversation about how Condi Rice is skirting her moral obligations, I'M GOING TO STAB MYSELF!!!

5. If I have to pee really bad, I cannot think about anything else except how I have to pee really bad.

If I ever take you out for drinks after work one day? DO NOT, and I repeat, DO NOT attempt to pick up the check.

Unless you like me threatening to kick you in the crotch... Well, more accurately, I will threaten to "kitsch you in the crock", which as you know is WAY scarier than a kick in the crotch.

Mmm hmmmmmm!

PS. Who invented hummus? Because I want to tell them that I lurrrrrrrve them.

It's over! Yay!

You'll have to forgive the bitchiness... Wait. I'm not bitchy yet. But I'm way tipsy. Like waaaaaaaaaay... Hey, you can't overwork me and not expect me to cope with alcohol! What do you take me for? A well-adjusted adult? Bahaha!!

So anyway! Apparently, I'm a lightweight. Seeing as I'm tipsy enough to proclaim to my neighbors in the elevator, "I'm stupid!"

... But they laughed. So maybe they thought I was joking.

Just so we're clear... I am wholely unpleasant when it is hot out. No, let me amend that... I am wholely unpleasant when it is warm out. 80 degrees and I am a big whinging ball of drama-queen... Lots of whining, lots of pained expressions, and LOTS of bitching about being forced to wear capri pants. So unless I move to Norway this summer, be prepared for lots of bitching.

BUT NOT TODAY! Because not only did we start interviewing candidates for the peon position at Big Bootie Ho, but I LEFT BEFORE 6PM! And I am real close to drunk... But how sad that sampling* 4 different microbrews makes me semi-drunk.

PS. Stella Artois? Real good... But mostly real good because it's name is STELLA!

Well, I'm completely drunk... But I guess this is what I get for not drinking for a whole lotta while and then guzzling down 2 VERY VERY STIFF margaritas over lunch. And it's making typing very hard. I am the backspace mastah!!

And now, because I love you, I will be opening up Piehole for GUES TPOSTING. I mean GUEST POSTING.

And I swear, if nobody posts, I will cry like a big drunk asshole.

I don't know if it was just my imagination or the 4 beers I just drank, but I SWEAR I just saw two zombies dressed in aloha shirts and bermuda shorts walking down the street... Eek! Save me!

Bend your knees when you walk, creepy people! You're freakin' me out!

Step 1: Get up from couch.
Step 2: Walk to kitchen.
Step 3: Open fridge.
Step 4: Remove beer.
Step 5: Shut door.
Step 6: Open beer.
Step 7: Walk to living room.
Step 8: Sit down.
Step 9: Drink beer.
Step 10: Repeat.

Bah. I'm too exhausted to get drunk... Hell, look at me. I'm too tired to use exclamation marks. And this is me we're talking about. I am Exclamation Girl. But nevermind that. Did you hear that I'm too tired to get drunk? Can you believe that shit?

Good way to get over The Great Ego Crushing of 2004? Lemon cookies.

Great way to get over The Great Ego Crushing of 2004? 2 beers and a big plate of hummus.

Fan-freaking-tastic way to get over The Great Ego Crushing of 2004? Call someone, who just won't leave your shit alone, a cunt... Jackass would be so proud!

PS. My vocabulary is so ladylike, don't you think?

PSS. I'm totally drunk!

PSSS. How the hell am I supposed to go to work tomorrow when I'll still be totally drunk?

PSSSS. And from The Golfwidow I bring you the top three annoying things:

1. People who just won't leave your shit alone.
   
2. People better than me at anything on the list of things I give a shit about.
   
3. Giving a shit.

Did you know it was possible to drink 2 head-sized margaritas and a pint of beer and still make it back to work in time? Well, sortof in time. Because I'm, like, oh... A half hour late? But who cares! I'm drunk! And at work! Yay! Sure, rich people's vacation houses may fall down in about 6 months, but who cares? I'M DRUNK!

Also - Who remembers why I titled this post "How not to freak out"? Because I don't remember. Do you?

Note to self: ... Um. What was I talking about again? ... Uh. I forget. I've had too much beer. (Since when is 2.25 beers too much beer?)

But guess what?!? :pretend: called, and I'm not going to call him back! Ha! I'm so mean... But he really can't expect much more. This past week has been full of phone calls and emails from the likes of the full time booty wanting guy and some other guy I dated one kazillion years ago, and I am NOT HAVING IT.

GO AWAY STRANGE IDIOT BOYS! There is no community poon here.

For future reference: It is never wise to talk to :pretend: while tipsy. Because, not only do I end up blurting out personal information of the viscerating kind because MY GOD is he ever pushy, but he ends up telling me what to do, how to do it, and why I should do it really, really bossy like.

Thankfully, I am neither drunk, nor capable of listening to what other people tell me what to do. So, HA HA! Suck it My Pretend California Boyfriend! ...But how sweet is it that he's telling me what to do? He's the fucking superintendent at a project that ended MONTHS ago, but he wuvs me enough to boss me around.

HOW FRIGGIN' CUTE!

Dude! When did the wait help at bars get young enough to call me MA'AM? Like, "enjoy you're beer, ma'am" and "are you ready for your tab, ma'am?"... Uhh... FUCK YOU! I'll tell you what I'm ready for... I'm ready for some plastic surgery, asshole!

GOOD GOD! When did The Old happen? I swear, I was just asked for my ID when I was buying a beer. WHAT HAPPENED!?!? When did I turn into somebody's mother? ... Sure, technically I am somebody's mother, but DAMMIT! I'm not a ma'am!

PS. Do you know how dangerous it is to leave Asians in charge of your makeup when you have those weird round-eye AmerAsian eyelids, and they have a humongous amount of eyeliner? HELLO CIRCUS!

Damn those marketing geniuses in San Diego for naming their beer something TOTALLY IRRESISTIBLE to me... I mean, how can I not buy something called Arrogant Bastard Ale? Hell, I'd buy Gigli on DVD if they renamed it "Arrogant Bastard Movie".

But I'm not feeling very good about being the marketing industry's chump.

This beer had better make me laugh and tickle me until I pee myself a little bit, just like regular arrogant bastards, or I'm going to be ticked off.

I just went OUT and had BEER! You know, while I was OUT? At NIGHT! Like, at the time when I am supposed to be IN and REARING A CHILD! Instead I was OUT! OUT!! And DRINKING BEER! UNSUPERVISED!!

I'm almost like a grown up or something.

But one problem. I haven't eaten anything except yogurt and creamer in the last 2 weeks. HOLY SHIT AM I EVER DRUNK! Off TWO heffeweizen... Which, if you must know, make me feel very yeasty.

And drunky.

The problem with drinking half your weight in beer is... You pee your weight in pee. How does that happen? Where the hell is all this pee coming from? According to my calculations, I should be -1 Jennifer... Funny. I don't look any thinner.

Anyway, today I got my super secret Christmas bonus (YAY!), a big box of Mackinac Island fudge (YAY!), one kajillion pounds of Godiva chocolates (FAT! I'M GOING TO BE HUGE!), and free software from the World's Prettiest Techie, who, ever since I ate that banana in front of him, has been throwing free computer equipment and software at me like crazy... But then, can you blame him? I do have some bad ass banana-eating skills.

Pretty Techie: Move it, jackass.

Me: (To co-workers) He just called me a jackass!

(crickets chirping)

Pretty Techie: I like how no one came to your defense.

Me: Yes. They all will pay...

I was going to be all good and not drink anything alcoholic at lunch today, but then I realized HA HA! That's the craziest thing I ever heard.

I have come back from lunch and proceeded to walk around like, "Hey! Look at me being totally not drunk! I am not drunk! SEE?" which can only mean one thing... I'm so totally drunk.

Proof I'm totally drunk:

• Despite INTENSE CONSENTRATION**, getting nothing done in a timely manner.
  
• Despite INTENSE CONSENTRATION, still told a contractor the I would get that "shright outh" to him.
  

AND NOW! I share with you a snowball fight conversation I had with :turdface: yesterday:

Me: Why are you screaming like a girl?!

Turdface: It's just a phase!

Cannot. Contain. Laughter.

Did you know ebriety was a word?!? So why have I been wasting all my energy saying INebriated? I'm just EBRIATED! Woo! I've saved myself one whole syllable! Man! Reading a book on the evolution of linguistics is so useful!

And if it wasn't celar already? I'm ttoatally ebriated. HAHAAH! Look waht happens when I don't backspace! I'm so drunk!!

PS. If you have called me on my cell phone in the last few days and I have not answered, rest assured I'm not ignoring you, I just CANNOT HEAR MY PHONE. Plus, I've been ebriated.

Do you know how hard it is to read a newspaper when you are BLODDY STINKING DRINK? I mean, BLOODY STINKING DRUNK? Wait. Did I spell it right that time?

Well, I'll tell you*! It's REALLY REALLY HARD!

Also, is it possible to get a hangover minutes (minutes!) from your last drink, because MY HEAD IS POUNDING. What did he put in those drinks? Windex?

* Because at lunch, the bartender bought me THREE DRINKS.

I need a boy in this apartment immediately, because I NEED A DRINK but I am terrified of opening this champagne bottle. It might explode in my hand! Or (GASP!) make a popping noise! Eek!

People seriously need to stop trying to get me to do jello-shots. Dammit! I don't like the taste of rubbing alcohol or envelope tape! Back off!

However, you could stand to convince me to drink all those margaritas. I won't mind. (Also, I WILL DRINK THEM!)

PS. I have just had a very large, head-sized, margarita. Now would be a good time to take advantage of me.

I've had 4 margaritas! And I've only eaten about 1/4" of coffee cake all day... How it is I'm still upright, I don't know.

Must've been some bad ass, alcohol absorbing coffee cake.

But for the record, I'm really stupid. (In case you didn't know.) I thought I was OK, and that I had all my shit contained, but NO! I DO NOT! My shit! It is running amok!

I'll be OK though. I just need more margaritas.

PS. Do you think "malaise" is a good enough reason to call in sick?

It's raining BIG FAT RAINDROPS right now in Seattle, and it's all I can do not go outside and run around in it.

OK. I've already gone outside and run around in it... Hey. I only have so much self-control. And I already done used it up today with the whole Not Molesting :geriatricmark: thing I did earlier today.

DAMN THAT WAS HARD!

I guess my reward was BIG FAT RAINDROPS! ... Which, by the way, totally make up for everything.

Anyway! I AM SO DRUNK! And strangely CAPABLE OF TYPING! .. Wait. Did I spell that right? "Capable"?!?! THAT TOTALLY LOOKS RONG! I mean WQRONG! AI mean, WRONG!... I mean, I MEAN!

Backspacing is a bitch.

1. Drink several alcoholic beverages.
2. Wander around a little bit outside until someone yells at you from across the street, "JENNIFER! What the hell are you doing?"
   Answer: I don't know! What AM I doing? And where the hell is my cell phone?
3. Threaten to kill me if I make you listen to that Kenny Rogers song in it's entirety.
4. Call me "motherfucker" and sometimes "bee-yatch".
5. Totally pass out while attempting to expose me to music that does not suck.
   Does it not suck, you ask? I don't know. I passed out.

There is liquor in my house now! Because Ho Bag taught me how to make margaritas!

Well, kinda. He made them while I watched. Kinda. I mean, he made them. I drank them... That's kind of like teaching me right?

No wait. I already knew how to drink margaritas.

Oh well.

Does this mean that I can't consider theoretical propositions by men that, perhaps, I should not consider imaginary propositions from? Because I'M TOTALLY CONSIDERING IT! Because I am ridiculously stupid... Also drunk.

PS. OH MY GOD! I love babies! Give me your babies! I love them! GIVE!!! Also, your puppies! I will take puppies too! PUPPIES!!!

PPS. Have you checked out my farmer's tan yet? It's totally hot.

PPPS. Wait. I forgot what this one was supposed to be about, but OH MY GOD! It was so funny when I thought it up on the street! LAUGH ANYWAY!

PPPPS. Did I ever tell you how weird it was to email your little baby child? SO WEIRD! I knew he could type and everything, but HOW WEIRD! He's TYPING TO ME! From 3000 miles away! Stop my head from spinning!

"I love it when you play both sides of the counter."

TEE HEE... Or did you just have to be there? Spitting out your beer at the bartender, unattractively?

And in other news:
Number of times it took me to get my key in the deadbolt: 3
Number of beers drank: 3... Or at least I think it's 3. 3 is all I remember... Is it 3?

PS. I am typing this while I am HALF-NAKED!!! I am typing HALF-NAKED! On the INTERNET!!! ... But at least I'm 32 so it's not illegal. Wait... How old am I? Am I ... 33? Wait. What's 2005 minus 1971?

Tonight I drank:

Mac & Jack's Amber Ale

Maritime Old Seattle Lager

Roslyn Brewery... err... Pilsner? IPA? I don't know. I was drunk by now. Stop talking to me.

PS. Dear Cilantro,
I love you. I can eat fistfuls of you! EAT! FISTFULS!! Rowr... And please don't be offended by thinking of that in a perverted way. Unless you want to, in which case, BEND OVER WHORE!

PPS. Dear Air Conditioning,
You are making my nose hurt. Why? Also, stop it!

Even though I have to pee real bad (because I just drank several beers! And I only peed 8 times! And that is not enough times to pee, because I am the Urinator, and I must pee CONSTANTLY or else!), I can walk down the street like, pft! I don't have to pee at all! BUT OH MY GOD, I HAVE TO PEE SO BAD!

The second I am alone in the elevator though... And I'm doing the pee pee dance.

PS. Let us note - Several beers! Drank! Am very tipsy! Want pie! But no pie in the house! WHY IS THERE NO PIE?!?!

There's something seriously wrong when two beers get me so drunk I tell people they smell like peaches, and ponder the disappearance of BooBerries... Oh, Booberries! Where have you gone? And that cream puff I ate... Totally the beers fault.

The lightweight alcohol tolerance might have something to do with the fact that I've only eaten a half cup of oatmeal and a Clif Bar... And a cream puff.

And if someone doesn't stop me soon, half a pound of bacon.

---

Now for a brief wrap-up of the drunken mispellings:

1. disparreanace
   
2. NBoobBooeries
   
3. Lighetweight
   
4. oatmael
   
5. warp0up

I have been anxious for no reason almost all day today, so I ate a cupcake... And bacon. And four pints of beer... Well, I didn't EAT the bear. Beer. BEER! I can type! I am not drunk! I AM DRANK THE BEER!! See? Sober.

"I am drank the beer?" ... Well, OK. Maybe I'm a little bit drunk.

More gay men buy me drinks then straight men... WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? Am I butchy? Are my gestures extra faggy? Or am I just super fabulous? ... Or, horror of all horrors, does this mean I am a fucking FAG HAG?! And if so, SOMEONE KILL ME.

Apparently I have only one drunken observation. Not because I only observed one thing, because believe you me, I observed NINE TRILLION THINGS, like how that one girl was wearing white pants, and how that one guy should really reconsider wearing such a short coat... Uh. NOT THAT I AM A BITCHY GAY MAN OR ANYTHING.

... So... When are you due to come over and kill me?

PS! Totally not done drinking! Just done with the half-priced version. STAY TUNED FOR REALLY DRUNK POSTS!

Am very drunk. Room spinning... Either had 700 beers, or 3 beers with roofie chaser*. Can't be sure. If not found within 48 hours, please notify :poolboy: (upon return from foreign** homeland) that may be lying on floor of bathroom really, really drunk and/or hung over. Possibly naked *** and clutching enormous phone bill.

* I don't think I was slipped a roofie... But does one get this drunk off 3 beers without one? ... Reiterating! ROOM IS PSINNING! I mean SPINNING!

** I am not into Americans right now. Can't help it... Accent is sexy. Want to hump it. Let's all hump the accent. *Hump*

*** OK. Definitely naked.

PS. Did I mention I got a really cute pair of very tall Steve Maddens? HOW CUTE! Want to kiss them! Am wearing them everywhere, even though they make me walk all crooked and almost 6-foot-tall-y?

I HAVE BEEN DRINKING! During work hours! Just who do I think I am? A New Zealander or something?

But it was either drinking or stabbing people. So I went with the less messy version. Also, the version that requires less physical exertion and more alcohol.

PS. OH MY GOD! Why did no one tell me I was so burnt out?

:poolboy:: How you doin'?

Me: DRUNK!

Pool Boy: Drunk!?

Me: YES! DRUNK!

Pool Boy: I am shocked, Miss Sparklypants!

Me: HA!

Pool Boy: Dance on any tables?

Me: No, no tables were involved. But there was definitely some dancing.

Pool Boy: I missed the gyrating?!

Me: No, you missed the bumping into people and falling down.

This has been the most happiest of all happy hours in the history of happy hours... Or maybe just the most alcoholic?

But how else do you celebrate your 10-year-old suddenly being able to play Beatles songs on his alto saxophone? I think "by getting drunk" is the only way! NO OTHER WAY IS ACCEPTABLE! LET'S DRINK! ALCOHOL! Because I've listened to "And I love her" about 40 times tonight and that deserves either a gold medal, or maybe a bronze - because I don't imagine listening to an off-key sax is really gold medal material - but still! Alcohol!

Or "alcpoholll"... Depending on how drunk you are.

With a beer chaser! ... And a 2 beer follower! Or whatever it is you would call 2 beers prior to drinking of tequila + beer! I think I shall call it "REALLY FUN LUNCH!" Or "I THINK I'M DRUNK!" Or "I'M REALLY HAPPY!" Or "WOW! LUNCH TOOK 3 HOURS!"

But anyway - Why am I even at work now? I'm drunk... See above.

Nobody warned me that it would be such a booze-fest when your office closes. MY GOD, I can't even remember the last time I didn't drink anything alcoholic for a whole 12 hours in a row... When was that? Like, February 20th or something?

Why is everyone trying to get me drunk? Sheesh! I'm almost inclined to not appreciate the free booze. Except that the phrase "free booze" contains two of my favorite words.

But if I'd have known I'd be called upon to consume several alcoholic drinks, maybe I would have stocked up on the greasy fries or something, because there's been nothing to eat in my house except whole grains and fresh organic free-range vegetables, and I swear it's like a vegan blew up in here or something... WHERE'S MY GREASE?!?

PS. Quit cutting your bangs when you're drunk.

Note to self: Even if they are being comp'ed by straight boys, you are officially too old to drink three shots (AND BEER!) and not die the next morning... Hell, I'm still queasy and I haven't had anything to drink since 9 o'clock on FRIDAY NIGHT.

How do I make this go away?!

That's the last time I talk to loose-pocketed strangers in a bar in Seattle... You crack a few jokes and make that noise that adults in Charlie Brown make and all of a sudden they're buying you things called "mind erasers". The jerks.

Things I do when I am hungover

1. Sleep until 11am.
2. Eat sushi. (What?)
3. Sleep again.
4. More sleeping.
5. Again with the sleeping.

Also, I went OUTSIDE without ANY MAKEUP and I DIDN'T CARE. (But really - How cute am I when I'm hungover? Why is dehydration and nausea so becoming?)

Drinking margaritas in the sun = headache. It also equals farmer's tan. And sweating... I have had quite enough of this sunny weather, Seattle! Knock it off!

PS. One of my favorite clients hugged me today. And tried to take me out for cocktails - Which, WHEE! Except I have an obnoxious 11-year-old with me who has already had enough Adult Situations* for one weekend.

* PSS. I thoroughly enjoyed "Knocked Up". (I loves me some Paul Rudd!) Although I have to advise against bringing a tween to it. Unless you like holding a bucket of popcorn in front of their eyes for about 5 minutes.

Despite very loud dissenting opinions, last night, I was successfully able to convince a friend to shove a teapot full of salt water up their nose... Mostly I did it by telling them how gross it is, and then demanding that they do it by pounding the table and yelling, "DO IT! DO IT!"

And then we talked about midgets and boobs, and then I screamed "I know you didn't just eat my FRY NACHOS!"

So, pretty much, hanging out my my friends is just another reason for me to tell penis jokes and yell at people.

I had 2 pints adn a scooner... skooner... schooner... at lunch today and I FEEL FANTASTIC! I should totally do this morn often. nore moften. more often.

HA! DRUNK!

This morning I found the following drunken message that I had left myself on my own damned phone:

?!?!?!!