Bleh.

Bleh.

Okay people.  I intended to blog, really I did.  And then a friend took me out for margaritas tonight, and she was all, "Oh, we'll only be out from 7-9 p.m.!" and I said, "Okay, great, because I still have to blog and my sister-in-law and her family are coming tomorrow and I want to clean" and she said, "No problem!" and then she took me to Azteca, which is my kryptonite, and bought me a jumbo margarita, and then a shot of Patron, and then a "small" margarita, and now I'm having trouble focusing not to mention writing and I'm going to take a Prilosec and an Aleve and go to bed because I have to get up at 6:30 a.m. to get ready for my job as a hooker.  Of course, Current Husband sees that I am tipsy and is thinking, "Where are my condoms?" but it is futile, because I am 42 and totally cannot hold my liquor anymore.  I might even have gout or erectile dysfunction or Alzheimers.  And?  I missed the first episode of Project Runway.

But I did have a lot of fun with my tequila-loving friend.

Awaiting the inevitable headache,