Why are my early thirties so eerily reminiscent of my early twenties? Luckily this go 'round I'm not indulging because I'm sad, or stressed, or escaping; I'm just having a blast! Of course the recovery time is about three times longer now, but I seem to be celebrating with libationary gusto as if I don't even know what a hangover IS . Why else would I think that my hundred and twelve pound body could hold four Margaritas and dance until five in the freakin' morning? AFTER sharing an entire bottle of wine with a friend earlier that day? I just don't know why I didn't know which end was up until four days later.
And I've been consistent. Yes, that's right, no slacking here, I'm giving it my all. There’s been a beer with dinner on Monday, a glass of wine with the girls on Tuesday, a beer with dinner on Wednesday, and a glass of wine with lunch on Thursday. Last night I went to a friend's Fondue Birthday party where I drank wine like it was water and smoked on the deck back like a pro. Yep, too many people in a small space mixed with booze, and a fire hazard thrown in for good measure. I was home before one, but did it occur to me to pace myself since I have another birthday party at the swanky Paragon this evening? Yeah, not so much. They boast over sixty vodkas from around the world. Looks like Your Majesty’s gonna need her passport!