A note from the desk of Blythe: this post will be brief and unsatisfying, much like most encounters with me.
I have made a new rule for myself - the rule of three. Only three orange bejeweled skank shirts from Forever 21 in one outing, only three diet DPs at the office, only three viewings of Knotting Hill in one sitting, you get the idea. This also means only three drinks in one evening. Previously, I had made a pact to limit myself to three drinks per establishment, but I don't think that's going to work out. Last night, after a particularly easy day at the office, Lacey and I went out to dinner and stuffed ourselves with Mexican food. Delish times 4. We also had one ginormous margarita each - we totally got upsold by this creepy, yet charming waiter. Needless to say, we were a tad tipsy. I had planned to watch SYTYCD, but was informed that the results show would not be tonight and I just couldn't fathom waiting longer tan 24 hours to know who got the boot. It's a sleepless night already. So, I agree to meet up with high school friendish while he's in town for a drink. Let me just say that by this point, Margaritaville has taken the last train to Clarksville. Stone cold sober. But then I have a few Flying Dog whatevers and I launch into let me scare you with my life story mode. Poor kid. This is my least favorite of my drinking personalities. Blah, blah, blah I ramble about sushi, Native Americans and the War of Jenkins ear. Then it's pumpkin time and I'm ready to go. I start the epic search for my keys in the bottomless depths of my purse only to come up empty handed. They are simply not there and are simply in the ignition of my locked (totally sweet if you are into a totally lame) car. I am reduced to calling my little brother for a key, but he's out being cooler than I am and can't meet me for some time. So, high school friendish offers to take me home. I then realize that he probably thinks this is a line. Oh, I locked my keys in my car before I even started drinking, now you have to take me home.... But sadly, not the case, although, I might start using it. Fortunately, I was immediately distracted from this sad state of affairs by satellite radio. F-ing sweet! I need it. Like yesterday.
And then I found $5.
MY LIMIT IS THREE!
23 comments:
I hope this doesn't limit the number of sexual partners at one time in one night. Eveeryone knows a real gang bang involves 4 guys.
A three drink limit?! That's crazy! Why not make it 3 of one drink? Then you could have 3 margaritas, 3 Miller Lites, 3 Stellas, and then 3 aspirin.
3 cases, 3 bottles, 3 boxes...sounds good to me!
This new rule is totally not going to last.
PS - were you still drunk when you wrote that post?
Three martini lunch?
what i want to know is if high school friendish got lucky.
meg - i hate those halfassed, halfcocked gang bangs.
jeff - are you trying to kill me? consumption of that magnitude would surely do me in. or at least lead me to make out with someone by accident.
sru - so you guys are trying to kill me. you know, you could just say this blog's shit and i'd stop. murder isn't really necessary.
cherry - yes it is. it'll last just like the old one. and let me ask you, were you drunk when you read this?
dan - are you asking me out?
d - now now now. i thought you knew me better. if i did, it'd totally be in the post.
You ramble about the War of Jenkins Ear when you're drunk? Man, I thought I was a dork.
Oh, right. I am.
if you're buying, I'm asking you out.
michael - we all are. that's why we're here.
dan - i have to do everything in this relationship. jeez.
Knotting Hill? Is that the one where Julia Roberts plays a shallow yet charming world champion knot tier, a foil to Hugh Grant's down-to-earth character who lives a simple life making hemp rope by hand?
Or maybe you meant Notting Hill (neighborhood namesake of the Notting Hillbillies).
You should be able to watch Notting Hill more than 3 times in one sitting... come on. It's a classic. And good for you.
I give you 3 hours... 'All round awesome people' like us can not only have 3 drinks.
[something witty about 3]
You shut your mouth Shain!
Dorothy Mantooth is a saint!
(Sorry, just seemed appropriate)
oh, sure, use this post to show your your fancy I-can-count-to-three education. God, get out of the ivory tower already. Sheesh. Brag much?
That was neither brief nor unsatisfying. Will you limit your broken promises to 3 as well?
ah, but you're the sweetest sugar mommy there ever was.
You know, I've had to give myself the same limit--3 drinks per evening. I go over that, and I'm making out with strangers (not that that's necessarily a bad thing). I'm also pretty much guaranteed a hangover if I drink that much, even over the course of 6 hours.
I'm a weenie, what can I say? But I'm glad to know there are other members of my club.
matt - are you mocking notting hill? have you seen the end where julia roberts' is laying her head in hugh grant's lap as he reads a book? classic.
9er - right on. perhaps the real problem is when i watch bird on a wire three times in one sitting.
julie - birds of a feather...
shain - shain knows his numbers! but not much else.
stew - knows much else, not numbers.
jebus - unfortunately, my broken promises are limitless.
dan - you do realize that i'm the kind of sugar momma who will ask sears for a sub-zero refrigerator box to replace our old kenmore, right?
g - i've seen you past the three drink limit... ok, theoretically. because i am usually a little (or eight) past mine. sometimes, when i'm having a bad day, i think about you making bob sleep on the floor and i laugh. because it's funny and because bob was a douche. i think he's a dr/lawyer now. turd.
Of course you've seen me past the 3 drink limit--I only imposed it, like, three weeks ago!
Bob was a total and utter douche. Mighty cute, but douche-like in the extreme.
There is a happy hour tonight on Amsterdam between 79th and 80th that has beer for FIFTY CENTS. Yep. You read that right. The sad part is that everyone I know is either a) out of town, b) otherwise engaged, or c) pretending they don't have email. Probably the latter. WHY AREN'T YOU HERE? I miss you. *sad grace face*
g - saw the new digs. suhweet! can i check them out in person? say october sometime. we can recreate my lost weekend starting with fiddy cent beer. yes, yes?
Yes yes! OH MY GOD, YES. Please come to NYC. Pleeeeeeeeease. We have a futon and two charming cats that would love to rub themselves on you. The cats would rub, I mean, not the futon.
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