In short, I grounded myself

Have you ever rocked a good buzz for more than 24 days straight? I mean honestly...drunk ALL DAY, no breaks?

If not, I recommend it. But only once. Cause you will learn things about yourself. And these revelations may be disturbing. Like you may discover that you have a propensity for stealing things like, oh, the tambourine from the band you saw perform on Thursday night. You may also learn that you are a "creepy" drunk (or as Shoe so nicely put it: a "chatty cathy") starting up rando conversations with everyone and their mother. How I had a thirty minute conversation about reality TV with a fabulous gay man on Saturday night is just beyond me.

I'll restart by saying that Friday night may have been the most epic night of my life. That's a pretty bold statement, I know. But when you throw this middle class-FOBy raised- city girl in the middle of Georgetown trust fund holders, you can only expect that bold statements will be made.

As indicated by an earlier post, I attended the YPFP Date Auction on Friday night. After a strong pregame we arrived at the venue to be surrounded by people who, when greeting each other, said Oxford-ian things like "Henry, so good to see you sir. Are you still teaching those squash lessons?"

Of course, a few jack and cokes (we practiced Southern class) quickly calmed the stuffy atmosphere, and allowed me to (from what rumors say) enjoyed myself at the event. I hung out with SuziQ's rowdy coworkers, and we made smart decisions all night.... like pounding vodka shots and chasing them with whiskey. We also bid $290 on SuziQ and won her.

I'm mostly impressed that I was able to write SuziQ's coworker a check for a third of the cost and balance my check book in my state. Seriously, awards should be given out for this type of talent.

The pricey expense of attending the date auction means I won a dinner with SuziQ and her coworkers. My attendance also means that I will enjoy this tambourine. Which I stole. From the band that played during the auction. Win.

After the auction, SuziQ and I hit up U Street only to find ourselves in a multi-culti dance off to Michael Jackson tunes on the rooftop of Tabaq. Of course we started the dance off. But that is neither here no there. What's important to know is that, the newly acquired tambourine came in handy, naturally.

I woke up the next morning, wayyy too early and therefore still in a questionable state of mind. It was KtMac's birthday, so my roommate and I joined her and another friend for brunch at Commissary. Brunch, by definition is a time slot during the day where one consumes breakfast and lunch and lots of bloody marys and mimosas. Brunch also meant that I would never achieve a hungover state (nor sobriety), because I just kept building on my buzz right through midday. By the time we finished with brunch, I needed to run errands, the most important one being a stop at CVS for energy drinks (to go with the tanqueray in my fridge) before Shoe arrived to pick me up.

Our destination Saturday night? Adult Prom.

The name explains itself. It's an adult prom party hosted by two of his friends. It's also open bar, which only means that more amazing decisions were to be made by yours truly. Thank goodness for me, my date is part super hero which meant 2 things: that he not only looked amazing in his Justin Timberlake inspired get up, but that he would still find time to weasel me out of awkward situations I naturally seem to find myself in... like when I thought I was Wade Robson and tried high kick and moon walk. At the same time. Which, is just humanly impossible to do.

But even with Shoe at my side, it didn't stop me from being a creeper. Because apparently I love to hear myself talk, and will jump at the opportunity to converse with a stranger. So, unfortunately for many prom goers, I cornered them for twenty minute intervals at time, talking about Lord knows what, only to have the victim give me a pity look and excuse themselves politely. There were many times that Shoe, bless his heart, tried to pull me to the dance floor and save me from embarrassment. But no, I was determined to be a creeper, for whatever reason. Another win.

By the end of all the celebrating, which took us from downtown to Adams Morgan, I was in tears, literally, begging Shoe for food. See, in all this celebrating and drinking, the only meal I consumed in my 24 hours on anti-sobriety was a measly little english muffin sandwich at KtMac's brunch. Again, quite the gentleman, Shoe escorted me, melty faced and teary, out of the bar and over to a falafel joint to get my weight up. Chalk that up in the superhero column as well.

Besides the dubious behavior listed above, I also learned I am a stealth vom-mer (I must give Athanasty credit and she coined this turn back in February when the crew went to Phoenix and, yeaaah that's another story altogether). Believe it or not I'm actually a little embarrassed about the specifics of my pukey behavior and am not prepared to reveal them right here and now.

Maybe I'll just wait til Thursday...