Party Like A Rock Star!!

Or should I say, over drink like a football mommie. Oy! With Halloween just around the corner, it seemed not only appropriate but absolutely mandatory to attend a block party. The Parrow Trio were spending the weekend with their grandparents and this only added to the allure of a super adult drink fest.  I brought my stolen recipe of bullfrog and one of my best friends to make our trek to the party perfect. Now listen, I fully recognize and accept my age in all ways but I also believe that I defy the odds. While I am technically a thirty two year old mother of three, I am really a twenty one year old spring chicken with an indestructable liver and an insanely high tolerance for alcoholic beverages. Hell, I was two large drinks in when we arrived. On drink three, we are mingling, drinking and taking in the festive atmosphere. That is where my counting of the drinks began to diminish. Since there was a designated driver in place, this wasn't a concern of mine. With each sip of this Mountain Dew / Kool Aid / Vodka concoction, I feel even better, giddier, riskier! Hell, there was a split second that I was convinced that I was in a disco and Dancing Queen was the soundtrack in my head. I met two awesome ladies that I am fairly sure I have known in a previous, younger, more bitchin life. One was wearing the outfit from the Sundrop commercial. You know which one. Head band, green sundrop shirt, cut off shorts with leggings underneath. OH MY GOD! I died and went to new BFF heaven. Seriously!!! It seemed only appropriate that we dance the Sun Drop dance as vigorously and accurately as possible! My muscles didn't hurt, my moves were smooth and MORE liquid inappropriateness was being consumed at an alarming rate!!

Oh yeah, that shit HAPPENED! Drunk Mimi...CHECK! Duckface that I loathe in photo's...CHECK! Jager Bombs! TWO PLEASE!! Cheeeeck. Apple pie shot!! Sure! Cheeeeeck. Some lemon shit shot! Cheeeeeck. Here, drink this, its fruity, you'll like it. Well hell yeah I will. Shoot, I'll even do it again. The room is only kind of spinning. Like, a lot. Which is kind of convenient since my dance moves were starting to slow slightly. As we ended the evening....or should I say morning, I found myself missing one of my two shirts and my shoes in the backseat of my super cute Lancer with Amber singing New Kids On The Block. Ah, bliss. Pure bliss. What I didn't fully comprehend at the time was that the fun, fuzzy, stellar feeling I was feeling in that moment would take a turn to shove me just to the brink of death. I don't remember going to bed, falling asleep or anything of the sort. What I do remember was opening ONE eye and quickly shutting that bitch shut when the miniscule glimmer of sunlight felt like a leprechan snuck into my house, waited for me to open *an* eye and stabbed me directly in the eye with a spork. Sweet mother of God! That shooting pain surged through my head like a mo fo. A mother effin' MO FO! At that point, the pounding started. Have you seen STOMP? It is an incredible show of percussionists and dancers and whatnot making beats and songs using ordinary stuff. It truly is incredible in a non smartassy way. Stomp was taking place IN MY HEAD, OUT OF RHYTHM and with no recourse to my feelings or health. I tried to reposition myself. Apparently, my attempts to be a dancer in an MC HAMMER video have left me with a muscle injury so profound that I may have to star in an infomercial similar to those you see to save the hungry kids. I tried to groan, I had no voice whatsoever and my throat burned like lava. I took every ounce of energy to shove my head *eyes slammed shut* under the pillow and turn on my side in the fetal position. I had the overwhelming urge to pee, yet I lacked the ability to even attempt to get out of bed and make the lonely trip to the bathroom. I dozed off and woke up at the crack of noon. It was time to pick up the trio from their trip to see NaNa and PaPa. I missed my kids immensely. The peace and quiet and alone adult time were phenomenal but I missed peeing with the assistance that only three kids under 10 can provide. I missed watching mediocre children's programming and answering nine million useless questions about virtually the same thing repeatedly. But I missed these things when I felt well. I was in a pit of self induced agony that I wasn't sure how to deal with. I trudged to the bathroom grudgingly, forcing my eyes open just wide enough to see. Peed, brushed my teeth and hair and pulled on clothes. We met up at Ponderosa. I love buffets. I love food. With a hangover, I wanted to die. I was starving to death, my stomach is growling like a rabid anteater and the thought of food made me wretch. So what did I do? I made nachoes! I made nachoes then followed it up with macaroni and cheese, two rolls and battered fish and two cups of mountain dew. About the time all that nonsense settled, it was time to go. Thank God I wasn't driving because I literally couldn't have kept my eyes open if my life depended on it. I dozed while the kids bickered quietly and Sophie fell asleep. Upon arriving home, I was helped into the bedroom where I plopped down on the King Size hug from Jesus and passed the eff out. PASSED THE EFF OUT. O U T. I had an epiphany, I am not a college kid anymore *gasp* I cannot drink to my hearts content with no reprocussions in the morning. I used to drink myself into a stupor and wake up at 7am and pull a double and do it all over again. Now? Not so much. It is safe to say, I've hit my thirties!