Questionably Fabulous

Oh dear dear vodka. I think we need to break up. I’m closer to 30 than I am to 29 and my body is just not up for hanging out with you the way we used to. It takes me nearly all day to recover from a night with you.

Plus, I end up doing things that I just shake my head in wonderment about following our time together. Like this past Saturday, for example… Here is what you made me do in case you forgot:

• Adopt a fabulous (not questionably at all) flamboyantly gay man, call him “My Gay” and love him to pieces.
• Fall on the floor while trying to dance. Twice.
• Take pictures with people I do not know.
• Use that same camera (that does not belong to me) to take pictures of myself with My Gay who I now have confessed my undying love to. And yes, it’s true. I do love him. But that is beside the point.
• Put the camera into my purse and take it home with me thinking it was my camera.
• Draw the attention of the bouncer the second time I fall flat on my arse. Get told “Perhaps you should leave now.” and then was escorted out.
• Stumble home, ripping my brand new pants on the way and trashing my heels in the process.

These are not ok in my book vodka. I don’t care how much Chelsea Handler loves you, I cannot do it anymore. I simply cannot.

Except maybe next weekend. I’ll have my people call your people.

Me & My (ah-mah-zing) Gay