New Year's Eve

So as the end of the year approaches I am reminded of one of my more infamous drinking bouts. New Years Eve is always so full of expectations. The perfect outfit. The best place to go. The best drinks. The perfect kiss. The year in question, my friends and I just decided to go out and have a good time. No expectations.

The night started with drinks at my house. You know it's going to be a rough night when you are sitting in your sink naked and drinking while you apply your make-up. I had a drink before I took a shower. A half of drink was consumed while I dried my hair. The other half I drank while I did my make-up. That's two drinks already. Try to keep score.

The Bitch, The Superficial Bitch, The Non Drinker, and The Whore (not to be confused with The Slut) all arrived while I was attempting to get dressed. That was a another two drink extravaganza because I tried on 47 outfits before I found The One. Then we all sat around and talked about boys. That should have been good for at least 6 drinks but I kept it to half of one. Moderation is the key. Right? By the way, the score is 4 1/2 drinks before even leaving the house.

So off we go to our favorite dance club. This club had a bartender called Big Daddy that I just happened to lust after. Lusting after the bartender means lots of trips to the bar. LOTS! Before midnight the club gave out bottles of champagne to all the tables. I refused to share the bottle with my friends. I clutched the bottle to my breast and screamed, "Get your own bottle bitches. Big Daddy gave this to me." Or so I've been told. Around midnight I made my way back to the bar to be near Big Daddy for a kiss. I did receive my kiss. Of course, I don't really remember it and it could have been The Whore for all I know. Not my finest moment and surely not my best kissing work. By 12:05 I was bitching to leave. By 12:30 we were in the car. Whatever Lola wants she gets. Be damned friends!

On the way home we stop at Taco Bell. Don't ask. It was a bad idea but it is important to the story. So I like to talk on the phone when I'm drunk. Drunk dialing is my most favorite game. Really. I called up Dr. Love (That is his real name. Isn't that cute?) I am in mid conversation with Dr. Love when I hear everyone in the car laughing. Seems as if I was actually talking into my chili cheese burrito while I tried to smoke the straw for my drink, and I kept trying to eat the cell phone. Needless to say I was fucked up.

Once we get back to my house, I decide I cannot get out of the car. I just sit there and tell everyone I shall sleep in the garage. Somehow they got my ass in the house. The Fiance then calls. I cannot even explain how I got out of spending New Years Ever with The Fiance. The Fiance just did what Lola said and Lola said that New Years Eve was for the girls. So The Fiance ends up coming over and once he gets there I tell him he should sleep with other girls. I told him that he was young and hadn't been with very many girls (actually just me) and he should experience different flavors before he decided on one. I argued with him about this for a good hour while I nursed the last vodka of the night. It seemed perfectly logical to me. That is how drunk I was.

Oddly enough the next day I wasn't hung over and no one hated me. I think this New Years Eve I'll stay home with a hot bath and good book. This story has frightened me badly.