Mortification in December

This weekend’s full moon definitely had an effect on me. Or maybe it was the 72 ounces of Pinot Gris that I drank on Friday, which left me drunk until 9am on Saturday. Whatever it was, I experienced enough mortification to slay the diseased souls of a thousand Christians:

  1. I danced in public
  2. I french kissed a stranger (more than once) in front of my friends and colleagues on a drunken walk to an after hours party
  3. I won a vulgar Christmas Carol contest

Three proud moments in 24 hours. You’re welcome.

In regards to the dancing? Like being naked, it’s generally not a good look for me. Anyone who knows me knows it’s true. They never argue the point, or urge me to join them on the dance floor. They understand as much as I do that it’s a public safety issue. Naturally your next question will be “Is it as bad as Elaine’s dancing on Seinfeld?” To which I would answer yes. The good news? I somehow managed to dance in heels, under the influence of alcohol, without falling down once. A Christmas miracle for sure.

He was a really good kisser

As for the kissing? This silver fox of a man (at least that’s how I remember him) walked up to me and told me I was pretty. Then, in a very cheeky way, said that he wished I could be his girlfriend. I told him that I’m not really looking for a long term boyfriend, but asked if he would be interested “in a very short-term relationship?” So on the 1/4 mile walk to the party we got to know each other’s favorite colors and foods, had our first kiss, our second kiss, our first fight, and our first make up kiss. It was so romantic. I think. We broke up an hour later, when it was time for the party to end, and had our final, bittersweet (if not sloppy) kiss of the night. Sometimes I still miss him, whatever his name was. Sigh.

And I cannot take full credit for the big win in the Christmas Carol Mad-Libs contest. It was a team effort with Pretty Brit and 3 other similarly warped and tone deaf women. Honestly, we were the worst sounding quintet in the history of quintets. But we won over our competitors with phrases like “It’s Christmas time in MY PANTIES!” and “although it’s been said 8 times and 12 ways, BUTTERY Christmas, to you!” When we won, we actually thought it was a mistake. Between the giggling, and the utter inability to hit one correct note, we were just awful. But I guess that was the point, which made this the first and last time any of us will ever win a contest that involves singing.

So there you have it, more embarrassment for your pleasure. Consider this your first holiday gift, and please know that there will be more. I haven’t even had my Christmas cry yet.

More Food, Less Pain,
x-L

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