monday, question mark?

I'm at a bit of a loss as to where I should start today. Do I blog each day of the weekend separately? together? monster blog? break things off into small bits??

I'm going to try (or at least try to try) to make this smaller posts. Mostly because, as the rest of my life indicates, moderation or stopping while you're ahead is most certainly NOT a strong suit of mine. The weekend displaying (yet again) just how bad I am at reining myself in. Blogging seems like a good baby step of self control...

So let's back it up to Friday:

Friday was a good enough day. I treated myself to a repeat manicure, which was yet again, intensely satisfying. I'm operating under a subset of the "if you can't tone it, tan it" philosophy and doing my best to keep nails pretty/legs shaved/makeup on/etc. The idea of maintenance as a ego boost is working so far - and its WAY easier than getting up early and going to the gym...

Friday afternoon led to a intense HH trip to Sazerac, which remained a TOTAL zoo, but provides cheap enough food and liquor that I am willing to tolerate the chronically long waits, slow service and remote location of the bathroom. Miss McCloud, myself and our (yet to be seen) new girl "Filthy Like My Hottub" started off right with some sparkling wine.

Sorta.

I'm not sure if it's because the waitress was stoned, stupid, or just swamped with tons of tables, but by the time we received our "beverages" they were warm, small and lacking any "sparkle" whatsoever. This was extremely disappointing, but really not unwelcome since I took the cup of grape juice as an excuse to dive right in to Jameson. on the rocks. at 5:30pm. (red flag #1).

After a few hours of waiting for drinks, we gave up and moved on. Miss Mc and FLMH to their respective social engagements and me with my gorgeous escort over to a hometown institution for some classy beverages and delicious oysters (as well as my favorite bread basket in town). (red flag #2).

2 martinis, 2 dozen oysters and 2 breadbaskets later (not joking) The boy and I were having a lovely time at the bar and engaged in lively discussion with an older couple visiting from Phoenix. At first I thought their inquisitive nature was friendly and parental. Sure, as they got drunk the question got more pointed. How happy are we? are we engaged sexually? do we love each other every day? how do we know that we are happy? (and my personal favorite) What's keeping us from marriage? (and the boy's adorably honest answer? "a two carat cushion cut ring".. at least he knows?)...
As I switched myself straight gin to wine (does that count as restraint??) It became increasingly obvious that this couple was not actually intrigued with our young love and and effervescent energy.

It occurred to me that they had asked us for our suggestions for their next drinking stop more than two hours ago about the same time that Mrs. Phx announced that the secret to marriage is more than just good sex. its good sex with more partners than just your husband.

oh my.

oh my, that's your hand upon my thigh. (red flag #3).

I'm not sure how polite I was in the chugging of my remaining wine (you can't WASTE it), snarfing of the last bit of delicious flat bread-cracker-thing and scooping up the remarkably drunk boyfriend (wasn't HE easily plied with liquor...).

But I do know that I made a hasty exit out the front, into a cab and found myself home in front of TV in a matter of moments.

I really didn't see Friday night coming. In hindsight, there were more than a few clues that the night could turn out less than classy (in spite of oak paneled surroundings), but apparently I was either not interested, or too focused on complimentary bread baskets to see the wild red flags..



oops.