I left work early on Friday......on my on accord....without being threatened with termination or forced vacation. See, I'm already hitting one of my New Years Resolutions: Thou shall work less, enjoy life more. It was a slow day and I still had all my vacation time to use up from 2008. I grabbed 2 hours of it and hit the road at 3 pm. I had made plans to see a matinee with Firecrotch, Surfer Dudes girlfriend. A charming, pocket sized, red haired lass that can drink me under the table at 24 years old. Surfer Dude introduced us a few weeks ago and she has become an interesting person to hang with. She loves stupid movies and sappy chick flicks. She also like to sneak booze into the theatre.
We decided to see "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button". I brought rations.
Yes, that is an enormous bottle full of Sangria. The same deadly poison I consumed on Christmas. Firecrotch is partial to white wine. So I made this batch with White Zinfandel. I had a bag of ice, plastic cups...we were good to go! I tucked it into a gigantic purse and smuggled it into the theatre. Who knew that fashion could be so versatile? I wonder what Jessica Simpson smuggles around in her gargantuan bag? I swear, her purses could double as suitcases.
Yes, I have a Jessica Simpson fetish. But, I digress....
And so we drank, we watched and we cried our pretty, little faces off. A note for the future: Sad movie and a drink that contains 4 different kinds of alcohol all mixed together to form a 1,000 proof cocktail....these things do not mix. We sniffed and blubbered the entire movie. Sure there were funny parts. We laughed. But, every scene that was a tiniest bit sappy, we were balling our eyes out. At the end, we were outright sobbing. The surrounding movie goers didn't seem to bat an eye. Of course, I did get a strange look as I poured the second glass. To the untrained, non-drinking ear it sounded like I was peeing on the floor and the smell of Peach Schnapps was heavy in the air.
I confess, I'm not a big fan of The Pitt. But, after a glass (and those are huge glasses) of Sangria, I was having sick, twisted fantasies about him.
Then the little, red haired girl and I decided to hit the local Mexican food bar to polish off a few more cocktails. Today, I am hating the fact that I decided on two gigantic Cabo Wabo Margaritas, on the rocks with salt. But, last night it seem perfectly logical to add yet another type of alcohol to the other 4 that were rolling around in my nearly empty stomach.
I will confess, (as I have in past posts) I never have luck with female friends. To date, the only other woman that I can honestly say I love hanging with is Daddyfiles wife, MJ. But, the poor girl has been stricken with stress and a nasty case of the flu. I am anxiously awaiting her return to normalcy. Firecrotch is a damn fine chick. I was hesitant to befriend someone who was that much younger than me. (24 yrs vs. 31 yrs) But, this girl is funny, super smart, can talk dirty with the best of them and has a level of maturity that far exceeds her age group. We compared sex toys and I gave her tips on enjoying anal sex. We discussed sexual positions, possible G-Spot locations and compared our men's sexual prowess. It was wonderfully refreshing to be so open about all of it and she didn't bat an eye. Then, just as easily as we discussed naughtiness, we launch into a banter on the art of war, books, crime and philosophy.
When I returned home at 11:30 PM (I was suppose to be home around 7ish), Big K was not amused at my tipsy state or the fact that I had totally abandoned the plan to bring home dinner and he had to make due with leftovers. The fridge was full of yummy stuff. Do not pity him. He also got some I'm-tipsy-so-I'll-try-to-Rock-Your-World marathon sex. He made out fine.
Whataboutme? Today, I am still burping up Sangria. If you wave a bottle of Peach Schnapps under my nose I will probably puke. I've eaten a huge bacon, egg and cheese bagel sandwich (Sorry Princess HASAY! Diet/gym starts Monday) and umpteen cups of coffee. My tongue feels like sandpaper and I reek of booze. I wasn't even drunk last night. Just pleasantly tipsy. Why do I smell like I've been embalmed in Sangria? Probably because I cried out all the water in my body and replaced it with alcohol. Damn Brad Pitt!