Slosh, Slosh, Slap

Once again I have proven to myself that alcohol is pure evil. While I do enjoy Satan's nectar on an almost regular basis, last night was a new low for me. (Everytime I think I reach a low point I always manage to sink beneath it six months later.) I believe that last time I got so intoxicated was at a certain Christmas party back in December. Endless bottles of red wine left my teeth stained and me stuck in Queens, unable to figure out the way to get home. Not since then have I gotten that messed up, until last night. I started drinking white wine around 4:30. I went through five bottles with two other ladies and ended up at the Bryant Park cafe with a martini in front of me. Well, three to be exact. We all get drunk, who cares, but recently I've developed this horrible habit of slapping people across the face. I'm not sure why I do it...some people ask for it, others ask me not to do it. It's as though when I'm drunk the area of my brain that controls my right hand shuts off and I can no longer control my movements. I feel absolutely mortified the next day and I can't apologize enough to my victims. It makes me feel like a child. I'm pretty sure I never hit anyone as a child, so maybe I'm going through my "hitting phase" now.

Also embarassing was that after we left Bryant Park to head uptown to a friend's birthday party, I couldn't keep my head up or my eyes open. I spent three hours laying on the couch staying awake enough to ensure no one would draw on my face with a Sharpie. Pathetic. Of course I only get this drunk when I'm hanging out with people I work with. These are people I don't see outside of work on a regular basis, so for them it looks like I'm this huge lush who can't handle her liquor. The problem is I can handle my liquor, I can handle way too much of it.

So for those who witnessed my drunk fuckery last night, I'm sorry. And ask any of my friends, I'm usually the one babysitting the drunkards, not the one needing to be babysat.