Idiots guide to being a hotmess.

It’s been a hot minute. What a shame. Let’s play a little catch up.

I’m still tired. God am I tired. My list of TO DO’s is slowly growing longer and my energy to take care of it all has been depleted. I need like a month off from adulting.

I tried to walk away from the man that I loved because he wasn’t willing to commit. He wouldn’t let me. He has locked me in his house, forced me to be his girlfriend and makes it mandatory that I sleep in his bed. He also forces grilled meat and jalapeno Cheetos on me.

Downside. I feel like me trying to leave has forced him into commitment and it’s not really what he wants but he doesn’t want to lose me. Hopefully we can grow and this won’t cause us to fail in the future. All I can do is have faith and try right? I really want this to work, nothing has ever worked. I want to love and feel loved. I want a somewhat functional family to fill up all the seats at the dinner table. I want this. I want him. He’s my best friend, my person, my love. Fingers crossed.

As I age my irresponsible drinking stories don’t come as often. But you’re in luck today. The mamas decided to go out for a drink and catch up. Who knew it would become such a hotmess.

A couple of weeks ago my friend asked me to come meet her for a quick drink on a Monday night. She is a new mom and needed a break. We use to be big drinking buddies in the past. We drank like fish, ALL the time. These days, I can get wasted off 2 glasses of wine. So cut to I meet her at Bar 1 at 7:30pm. The game plan was to chat over a drink and an appetizer. Neither one of us had ate all day and we’re starving. Two sips into my high alcohol content fancy dark beer, this bitch looks and me and says “Chug that shit we’re going bar hopping.” So as a responsible adult….I do as I am told. Hop in the car with her and on to Bar 2. Bar 2, drink special: $3 mimosas. This is trouble. Order a drink, chug it, pay, onto the next place. Bar 3 is a Mexican restaurant that closes at 9. It is currently 8:45. In the 15 minutes of sitting at the bar, my friend has Spanglish shit talked the bartender about his weak pouring skills, making our $3 margaritas super strong. We order 4 drinks a piece because we’re getting cut off. The last drink has now become a To Go drink thanks to the plastic cups behind the bar. All garnished with a lime and a cherry. Get to the car, my friend vomits. Into her TO GO cup. Hops in the car and takes me back to mine. I am now on the mission for food. You know, what I should have eaten hours ago to prevent this intoxication. Keep in mind it is now only 9:00 pm. How did I get wasted this fast? I drunk call the sushi place down the street and order a spicy tuna roll and a bowl of miso soup. I’ll shove it in my face on the ride home. Pick up the food, not sure if I have even paid but at least I walked out with 30 chopsticks. On the ride home I try to drink my soup. Key word. TRY. Keep in mind that I drive a low rider car that makes a small bump in the road feel like you just drove over an entire mountain. Called King daddy to let him know that if I’m not home in 15 minutes then I’m dead and make him aware of my soup drinking struggle. “It keeps fighting back, but I will prevail.” I flung hot soup all over myself and the entire car for the whole ride home. Why did I not just put the damn soup down? No clue. I was going to finish that bowl of soup one way or another. It’s been 17 minutes, King daddy calls. In distress I let him know that I’m coming down the drive way, covered in soup. Park the car, and my door opens. It’s king daddy with his phone flash light on. How sweet of him to open the door and bring a light to help me in the house right? WRONG. He was recording me falling out of my car, with soup soaking every inch of my shirt, pants and seat. I go inside, strip all my soupy clothes off. (BTW I couldn’t find those clothes for a week) and sit on the bed and proceed to force feed myself and King daddy sushi. I’m a boss with these chopsticks. He can’t stop laughing. I try to crawl on top of him and I’m immediately hit with the spinney world syndrome. I fall asleep to “You left here at 730, you were home by 930, How in the hell did you get this drunk?” See what had happen wassss….

I’m a hotmess. It’s what you love about me the most.

FYI I’ll try to do better with keeping up with my blog. Writing keeps me sane. Even if it is about nothing and everything.


Missed you guys, Stay classy Assholes!



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