Karma's a Bitch

Last Saturday, I went out. I went out to a bar . A Bar which I am not ashamed to say, I have frequented...Frequently.

We were in town, and had dropped off the demonseed, I mean Emily, at her grandmother's house. We then fled to the veritable safety of a coffee house and drank latte whilst reading old copies of the "New Yorker". I think I actually felt my boobs return to their pre-child perkiness while engaged in this adult behavior.

It seemed safe enough to go on up to the Inn. After all, my friend of 14 years was meeting me there. She even got married there! Now, aside from the time Terrance forgot to open the chimney on the fireplace in our "fireplace suite" and the fire alarm went off ( and no one came to check us, cause they were all drunk), we have always had a wonderful time at this Inn. This was no exception.

However, you know you have changed age demographics when these dudes come to hit on your girlfriend ( Hey There Patrick from New Jersey. Didn't think I was serious about the putting your picture on my blog...)


And even though you didn't BELIEVE that my friend here wasn't sleeping with the Dude in the band - you did plop your ass at our table and failed to even offer to buy us drinks. Then, you called in "Scott" here as your wing man. Which, at this juncture, I should mention that you had best be mighty glad I was about 5 glasses of Merlot into the evening, cause I might have been a lot more offended...



When it became clear that Neither of us was going to sleep with either of you - and when my large black husband came from the lounge and said "Everything all right here?" You both left.

That is when we started taking pictures of the Band...( who are friends of Cindy ( pictured above) Bill played at her wedding when he was in a band called "Murphy's Law)


And a very grand time was had by all. Or at least me and Cindy. So about 3 glasses of wine past what should have been my limit, I took this photo...

Which somewhat accurately depicts how the world appeared to me at that time. Terrance appeared and peeled me out of my seat. He was also quite tolerant as I made him pull over every 10 minutes upon my threat that "I need to Throw up". At one point, a hitch hiker approached him, expressing concern regarding my state of ill health. The hitch hiker even offered to get "help". Perhaps it was the stream of what looked to be blood flowing from my mouth. Alas, it was only Merlot.

Upon arriving at my mother's house, I promptly got the spins. Nothing like being 35 and having the spins at your Mother's house. I also re-acquainted myself with the toilet her house in a manner which I had not anticipated. And fell asleep in the shower. And woke up when the hot water ran out.

Hey TB, still want to room with me at BlogHer?

But here is where Karma kicks it up a notch. I got up, feeling slightly cruddy but surprisingly good - I mean considering the puke fest of the night before. We say our goodbyes and leave. We plan on stopping at Sugar and Spice for some pancakes. Ummmmmm Pancakes.

So we go on in, and I order a big old stack of cakes to soak up the leftover alcohol in my belly.
Emily turns and says "Is it hot in here?"

Then, "My belly doesn't feel so good"

And I reach out, just in time to have her vomit repeatedly in my hands. My cupped together hands, which make a perfect child vomitoriom. I then have to walk through the restaurant , holding a cup of vomit in my hands, trying not to seem completely grossed out and sickened; Saying soothing things like "No problem honey, let's get you cleaned up - Do you need some water to rinse out your mouth?"

So Thanks, Karma. Thanks for reminding me that you will send the flu to my child on the morning of my first hangover in some time. Lesson Learned. Loud and Clear.