Update: Re: MIxed Nuts (Now with Pics)

I have zero recollection of blogging last night. In fact it was not until I was in the midst of laughing at D$'s drunken voicemailS (there were two and I GENUINELY wish I had a way to upload them) that he informed me I had left everyone I rather cryptic message last night.

Let me make a rather boring but true statement. I do not often drink to true excess. Not even in college. I get a thick buzz every other weekend or so and maybe 5-7 times a year will I be genuinely over the top. Even then, I've never blacked out. Some moments may be fuzzier than others but there is a record. And I don't mean a living record snoring loudly and smelling of Jack Daniels in bed next to me. I actually remember, for better or worse. Call it a control thing, call it early onset maturity- it has in no way impeded my late-night, gray area decision making, made me more inhibited or less exhibited. I just know what happened.Moi, Colleague and the fabulous DW

So let's take a look at the evening because clearly something went awry. It began like many tales of this nature do around mid-December... company Christmas party. It was actually one of my client's company Christmas parties but we work very closely with them and were invited to join the gang for a happy hour at D45- a new pub in River East. Happy Hour turned into happy hour, jovial hour, and ridiculous hour. Nothing like someone else's tab to bring back a wedding reception mentality- just because it's available does not mean it is a great idea to drink it. All of it.How cute is Boss?

The senior members of the teams left and about a dozen remained with three cameras. That's when the hat came off and the lipstick came out. A very patient lesbian colleague of mine agreed to put on my favorite red lipstick and white cloche/fedora with the thick black band (it is a badass hat). Then two of the gay men on the team wanted to try the ensemble (I cannot wait to see these pictures). Are you also understanding why I will probably never meet anyone at work?We are now just downing bottles of wine after I'd started with 3 Jameson & Gingers. Let me reiterate- not only do I rarely do this but I would NEVER think to do it with a client. My own colleague...you know that story....but not a client. It was an anomaly and a "When in Rome" moment.
It eventually becomes clear that it is time to leave. I had been invited by Caro to come over for cocktails before attending a friend's Ugly Christmas Sweater party. A large Red Bull and Vodka. Just what I needed: Wings. Wings are a stupid idea for anyone in no shape to drive a car.

We played some kind of drinking game that asked scattergories-type questions.
Prompt: Excuses not to have sex.
Answers of others: I have a headache, I'm too tired, I'm too drunk, We just did.
My answer? "Herpes outbreak." If I get any more charming, I will just roll over and die. Good example of the "for better or worse I remember" descriptor.

It's time to go to the party. I'm still wearing my hat because the hair underneath is less than desirable and at least I recognize that. I have, however, failed to recognize that the hat may be doing to me what "The Mask" did to Jim Carrey in the eponymous movie. I put more red lipstick on and, dare I say, still look passable.

As I am wearing my black riding boots with tight black cigarette pants tucked in and a long, fitted black cashmere turtleneck- I am not dressed festively enough. Caro lives next door to an Osco- problem solved. I buy gold tinsel garland and make it into a lei.

I do not remember whether I had a drink at the party or not...I don't THINK so. I do see lots of people I really like and don't see often enough. This is a great crowd and I'm lucky that they somehow adopted me when I moved here, thanks to CVDJ way back when. I also see Chip for the first time in a month and may have had a very pleasant conversation with him. I also TOTALLY creeped out a fellow partygoer.

Girl I've Met Several Times but not in awhile is sitting on couch across room with Girl I Came to Party With. GIMST says something that I think is my name and motions for me to come over. I find this a little odd but a warm greeting nonetheless. I go over and say hello!!! Girl is giving me a LASER look. "Do I know you?" I am crestfallen and GICPW is looking at her like "Yeah, you do and you're kind've being a bitch" but does not say anything, waiting to see how the play with go. Instead of recognizing that there was clearly a miscommunication. I proceed to tell her exactly when we've met, how my friend almost hooked up with her cousin and how I bought said cousin's jazz CD on her recommendation. I am not being a bitch. It does not occur to me to be so (although it kind've does this morning...). She is now very creeped out that I know things about her and her family and maybe it is the hat or the alcohol or something but she has ZERO idea who I am.

TKTC NOTE: This is the problem with being in PR. You remember just about everything about people you've met once. It is an illness. It weirds people out that you remember these things more than it actually benefits you. Literally, I do not mean to do this but I remember all KINDS of shit. I may have done this to you before and if you're very lucky, I will do it again. I will know your mother's maiden name, what year your ancestors came over from Ireland, when you applied for your last job and that you are allergic to strawberries. I promise, I'm not stalking you.

I walked away. Or I am pulled away to dance with friends. Another thing that does not happen sober and does not happen well in any respect. I'm having fun though. I flutter about, talk to Chip, talk to friends, avoid the shady shady guy I had a really strange run-in with two years ago. He appears to still be with the same girl... she cannot possibly know how creepy he is (real- creepy not me-creepy). I digress, ANOTHER story for a different day.

It is then that I feel I need lipstick and go looking for my purse. Not in Room 1, not in Room 2, Not in Room 1 for sure, Not in Room 3. Hm. I finally find it strewn about on an upstairs sofa I don't even remember passing. This strikes me as a good indicator that it is time to go home. And so I do. I don't remember saying goodbye, I don't remember leaving and I don't remember hailing a cab or what way we took home.

I remember asking the driver to wait till I got into my gate to leave. Good job, J. That's where it stops. Until 2:30am when I decided to revisit whatever the last thing I drank was...how mortifying. This morning, I am still dizzy. In the course of the night, I have ignored 2 calls from D$, 2 texts from Chip and 1 call from a friend I disappeared on. Other than the last one, it is probably good that I passed the F out for those.

My tinsel lei is on top on the heating vent, my sweater is in my laundry basket. My bra is on the kitchen table and I somehow remembered to wash my face but not well.

I'm going to get a Cheeseburger, small fry and a large Diet Coke from McDonalds now. And then I'm doing some Christmas shopping with CVDJ. And I'm not drinking tonight. Or maybe ever again.