Wednesday, November 3, 2010

The hickey is healing nicely, in case you were wondering.

I know it's Wednesday, and I still haven't really discussed the weekend - and there is a good reason for that. I am only now able to get my head around the debauchery of the past few days, which was not so out of control as to be highlighted on youtube with a title like "Crazy Middle Aged Roller MILF" - but we're getting close. I gotta lock it up. I'm 35 years old, for fucks sake. Way too old to wake up with a hickey on my boob, an enormous bruise on the inside of my thigh, and a vague recollection of possibly peeing in the Jack in the Box parking lot. I am not Courtney Love, I don't care if my husband looks like a rock star - I can't party like one. Two possible* public pees in one month is TWO TOO MANY as far as I am concerned.

(*I admit nothing)

So the next few weeks will be dialed down considerably. I have a lot of stuff going on with both jobs, I don't have any wild roller derby parties planned (except the one I am having at the cafe - and I am working that one, ergo no boozy woozy for me) and quite frankly it took me 3 full days to recover from this past holiday weekend. I don't think I can enjoy tequila with that much enthusiasm again until well into the new year.

In the meantime, I imagine I will still be wandering around in fishnets and hot pants, because otherwise what would we have to talk about, really? I can't let you down. But now that I have finally sobered up I intend to be stone cold sober while doing so. Halloween was a sad state of affairs. The after party for the Maui Roller Girls scrimmage on Saturday lasted well into Sunday - which was Halloween. I spent much of that day sick as a dog, and finally rallied to get everyone into costumes and out the door to trick or treat. As they walked out the door I looked down and realized that while they were ready to hit the road, I was still in my bathrobe with bedhead.

Problem solved with a big wig, a few baby wipes, and another Alka Seltzer - 10 minutes later I was in the car driving through the pouring rain to drop Lucy off with a beloved and clearly much more responsible adult for the evening. Max and Sami headed to a haunted house down the road. And I walked into the bar just as the shit hit the fan.

8 hours later I staggered out the back door, covered in sticky unidentified awfulness, and drove back home, where I climbed in the shower and then crawled into bed. I have been asleep off and on since then, and while a good time was had by all involved - myself included - I think that for the time being I will be having a good time with bottled water and my secret stash of Baby Ruths.

Don't worry, I'll still have plenty of tales to tell - and I'll actually be able to remember the punchlines.

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