Control Freak Loses Control

That's all I'm gonna say about that.

4 pints of ale + 2 car bombs = drunk off my ass and a Sunday with only the sketchiest of memories from Saturday night. My mom would be so proud!!

I must give a shout out to my darling husband, (applause), who holds my hair when I puke and lets me bum cigarettes from him. The man who will never leave me no matter how badly I sing Dixie Chicks songs on the way home from a night of drinking. He is also the gorgeous man who makes me coffee every morning, hungover or not. Among his other talents.

So, now, in addition to quitting smoking (for good, I swear!), I am planning to quit getting so freakin' blotto on the weekends. I think I've killed some of my most crucial brain cells. That means, next weekend I shall only have 2 pints of ale + 1 car bomb. That will surely allow me to maintain some semblance of control over my faculties, prevent me from talking too much and saying the completely wrong thing and, hopefully, keep the contents of my stomach intact.

In the meantime, I have mucho mucho work to do. And I figured out this morning that I need a big-ass raise for the amount of high-level crap I do and the critical thinking I employ on a daily basis.

Toodles.