Monday, June 23, 2008

They Did

Apologies for my tardiness getting this posted. At some point Saturday night, it seems, I decided that drinking my weight in tequila was a really, really good idea. And I weigh a lot these days, just ask the Wii B!tch (who I completely ignored all weekend).

This behavior, not surprisingly, had the effect of putting me totally out of commission for the whole of Sunday. Or as I began to refer to it, I was "In the nursing home." Being in the Nursing Home meant that I crept out of my darkened bedroom only for those essential items: Tylenol, Diet Coke, junk food (in very small doses). Usually during these tentative ventures, it somehow worked out better with only one eye open. And my hair. Oy. It gave "bed head" a whole new meaning.

I was released from the Nursing Home some time around 5 p.m. having acquired the ability to walk with both eyes open and tolerate a head band and spectacles. I was almost fully recovered by the time Design Star aired. (8:00 p.m.).

The par-tay responsible for my delicate condition was the commitment ceremony of Laura and Bianca held on Saturday night. It was a first-class event complete with Geisha's and a chandelier constructed entirely of white rose petals the likes of which, I'd venture a guess, most in attendance had never seen. Certainly I hadn't.
The ceremony itself was unexpectedly sweet, even for a jaded divorcee such as myself. And, if you're counting, this would be my third ceremony of amore this summer.

The whole event, formal as it was, forced me (twist my arm!) to acquire a new little black cocktail dress and sparkly strappy sandals. These items were, eventually, much much later that same evening, complimented by local fashion maven William Sledd who I finally met for the first time when we actually collided at the bar of a local watering hole.

We bonded when I offered to buy him a drink and he told me he preferred shots, so I dutifully ordered us up two shots of tequila because--oh heavens no--I hadn't had anywhere NEAR enough tequila by that point (some time passed 1:00 a.m.) on Saturday night.

After that? Things get a little fuzzy.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You met William Sledd? Way to go, bitches!