04 August 2006

Oh, No You Didn’t

It was, after all, Thursday night. Your favorite cocktail night. A birthday celebration and Texas margaritas at the hip new taqueria. Giggles, gossip, and crush confessions fed your undernourished mood while fish tacos fed your overnourished belly.

You went home. The buzz fit you like a favorite sweater, the most comfortable you’ve been in days. So you kept it alive with a glass of white wine. Relaxed on the porch. Answered the thirtysomething e-mails that came in after you left the office. (Damn, that Mary makes you laugh out loud every time.) Another glass of wine as you returned calls. You remember gliding toward the boudoir, thinking you looked like Elizabeth Taylor in Butterfield 8, when you probably looked more like Liz after a weekend bender. And then it gets fuzzy. But you got some sleep for once.

The alarm clock welcomes you back to Soberville. You’re running late (of course; one should always run late on Mondays and Fridays, darling), so you dash to the shower, the makeup mirror, the closet, the baubles drawer, Starbucks — all in 37 minutes.

After that second sip of latte, the brain clouds open up and last night’s dreamscapes float through your brain. Or did you actually …?

Panic sets in. You grab the cell phone. Check the dialed numbers. Oh, sh*t. View the call info. Cringe when you see that this call you can’t recall lasted 43 minutes. F-bombs fill the car as you bruise the heel of your hand on the steering wheel. Did you Mel Gibson yourself last night?

And you’re afraid to check your e-mail sent folder, just in case you …

Must. Stop. At. Two. Margaritas.

You know that contraption habitual DUIers get, the one you must blow into before the steering wheel unlocks to make sure you’re sober enough to drive? You need one for your cell phone. One more round of tipsy telephoning and you’ll have to move to Toledo.

UPDATE: My beloved French to the rescue.


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8 Comments:

At 8/04/2006 01:08:00 PM, Blogger Old Lady said...

HMmmmm. Some of the best things I ever did I can't remember.

 
At 8/04/2006 01:46:00 PM, Blogger Peter said...

Not to scare you, but, speaking from experience, drunken emailing is not without it's hazards either.

 
At 8/04/2006 02:32:00 PM, Blogger haahnster said...

There was a time when "Mel Gibson yourself" might've had a totally different conotation.

Take it from a long-time drunken dialer, it was probably worse than you've even imagined.

Have a great weekend!

 
At 8/04/2006 06:57:00 PM, Anonymous judith said...

Don't sweat it! There's just probably a few people sitting around, shaking their heads in wonder and thinking..."She SOUNDS BETTER on her blog."

 
At 8/05/2006 03:30:00 AM, Blogger Writeprocrastinator said...

Haahnster,

"There was a time when "Mel Gibson yourself" might've had a totally different conotation."

Heh-heh-heh!

"You remember gliding toward the boudoir, thinking you looked like Elizabeth Taylor in Butterfield 8, when you probably looked more like Liz after a weekend bender. And then it gets fuzzy. But you got some sleep for once."

Hopefully you weren't haunted by Richard Burton. I understand that his ghost likes to recite Shakespeare until the hauntees go mad.

That certainly explains why Mel did his version of "Hamlet" and his current state.

 
At 8/05/2006 08:29:00 AM, Anonymous HollyC said...

On a happier note, the last time RC and I got back together was prompted by such a phone call by me, inspite of the fact that it was 3 in the morning and he didn't remember who I was.....

 
At 8/06/2006 10:30:00 PM, Anonymous dayle said...

I am laughing out loud - I hate hate hate having to check my outgoing calls after an evening of libations. So horrid. Do I then apoligize to the person I called? Maybe I act like it never happened. I put on an ever so coy smile and act like that person enjoyed being the recipient of my drunk dialing. Ahh good times.

 
At 8/07/2006 11:47:00 AM, Blogger Bill said...

Oh man, I too am a long time drunk dialer addict; I have recently done much better but I still dread looking over outgoing call logs the next morning after a bender. I've gotten in more trouble than I'd even care to start talking about over drunken phone calls; hope the fallout wasn't too bad!

 

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