blogger hits the road

i never thought i'd hear myself say this, but i don't think i can take another open bar.

staring blankly at the chipper bar tender this morning at the um-teenth garden party in the last two weeks, i declined the bloody mary and oyster shooter, opting instead for orange juice and coffee.

i pondered the events of the last 72 hours, unable to draw any meaningful conclusions.

now that i've recovered from the slack-jawed paralyzed state i entered after, "hey, this is sort of funny since my ex-girlfriend is marrying your ex-boyfriend," and have laid to rest my transient crush on the punk rock groomsman, i have to ask myself: how is that we're still such drunken idiots?

don't get me wrong. i'm all in favor of drunkenness, and, quite frankly, am idiotic enough when i'm sober... but i don't think my body can take the two in combination anymore- i just can't keep up.

i guess i'll have to take comfort in not being the biggest drunken idiot. as i greeted the aforementioned punk rock groomsman who couldn't understand why i didn't want to drink vodka at 11AM on easter sunday i wondered why in the world he was so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. then i noticed that he was very much wearing his tux from last night having clearly spent the night in a hotel room other than his own.

i'm one to talk, i guess, since i woke up with a walloping headache and someone's phone number written on my hand. fortunately for me, the decorum of staying with your parents requires that you come home alone to your own bed.

i feel like there's a lesson in here somewhere, but i think i'm just too hungover to see it. talk about running on empty.