Getting Drunk On A Monday Night With Jesus And Some Lime Green Underpants

by Cookie


Do you remember that time, Bitches, when you didn’t have adult responsibilities or children or any other early morning commitments?  When you got randomly drunk on  Monday night and it wouldn’t matter?

I have this friend, (who we won’t call Cookie because it’s most certainly NOT her name), who decided to have a mini Bachelor Finale party on a Monday night.  She figured a couple girl friends would come over and they’d pig out and watch Ben Higgins cry for the one millionth time and call it a night.

And then her pal shows up in a sweatsuit onesie with a bottle of wine in her hand and some crazy looking Jesus lookalike motherfucker who was supposedly her husband.  And the next friend showed up with a bottle of sweet bubbly wine with her titties hanging out of her tank top and next things you know, everyone is drunk in the kitchen before they even start the show.

And as far as parties go, it was pretty mild.  The Jesus lookalike had the kids dancing and sing some crazy Star Wars song and somehow inspired the Destroyer to want to practice her violin at 8:30 at night.  He might not have been Jesus for real, but he performed a small miracle. Husband had the hockey game on and dutifully tolerated the chaos I had created in his house.  Only one pair of underpants were flashed and they weren’t even mine.

Anyway, everything was fine until Ben Higgins chose the wrong fucking girl.  HOW?  Worst move ever.

The other thing that happened was that it became Tuesday somehow. And that’s the real shitter.  Seriously.  Before I had to adult during the day, or parent, or be any sort of useful member of society, who cares if I got randomly drunk on a Monday night?

Well this bitch cares today.  My body is broken.  My brain is fuzzy and I feel mildly dizzy.  I have this uncontrollable urge to eat greasy food combined with the sudden urge to vomit.  It’s kinda like morning sickness but instead of blaming a baby, I have no one to blame but myself.  And the friend in the sweatpants onesie and lime green underpants.

And I think back to when I was in my twenties, when I would kill a bottle of wine before even going out at night and wonder how the hell did I survive?

I tell you one thing, I am going to buy my liver a present.  For hanging in there all these years.

And next week, I’m not getting drunk on a Monday night.