Drunken E-mailing

Written in the wee hours to Stella. Regarding her comment on a previous post

I spilled a huge glass of wine when I read “Jeff Jeffrey.” There was a strange laugh-spasm thing and oops, there it went. Now I have drunk cats (couldn’t get it sopped up quickly enough because I am pretty inebriated myself — I am concentrating really hard on my typing and keep yelling at eCrush to come read this — he says one of my talents is that I am surprisingly coherent while drunk as a skunk — personally, I think it’s all in the conditioning — I’m like an athlete! I’m the Michael Phelps of Wine Consumption!). And FYI, drunk cats are maybe the most hilarious thing I’ve ever seen. Bionic Kitty just keeps walking around in circles, stopping and looking like she’s totally lost. Number Two keeps trying to jump on my desk and missing. I’m currently trying to download a video that I need to keep onto my computer so I can capture the hilarity of drunk cats with my camera. Oh God, do cats get hangovers? If I have puking cats in a few hours, I will no longer know you. Just sayin’.

How’ve you been? How’s Jeff’s post-jumping recovery progressing? Tell me all the interesting Stella news! I’ve been in Couples Land all week and I need an antidote. I like exclamation points right now! See: ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! Ha!

Not much going on over here, on my side of the river. eCrush is going out of town this weekend and I plan to reclaim my apartment while he’s slapping butts and giving out high fives with his political buds. He’s currently packing and sorting through his stuff. Watching this process has been hilarious. I’m A-type but my God, I’ve got nothing on him. Everything must be folded and packed just so. I think he just attempted hospital corners on his shirts. Oh, and apparently, he intends to upgrade all the toiletries he has stashed here from travel size to real size upon his return. Seems he’s quietly but thoroughly infiltrating my apartment and my life. If this keeps up, I’m going to have to relinquish drawer and closet space soon. Where will my shoes live?!?!?! I refuse to displace my shoes. They’re like little pieces of my soul. My soul (sole! oh good pun for a drunk girl. Go me!!) is more important than storing his button downs. And he’s got two pink button downs. I stand by my “My Boyfriend is Secretly Gay” theory. I mean, pink shirts? Those pants? What more do I need? (eCrush says he is not gay and I should realize this by now. I’m wondering if he intends to prove he’s not gay tonight. And yes, I am leaving that line in my email so shut up eCrush) So, I’ve been keeping a list of all the things that he does which drive me crazy. I intended to turn it into a blog entry tonight, but when I started to, I got all emotional (hence the wine — drink ‘til it feels better). Realistically, the teariness was only because of PMS but he wants to think it’s because I’m going to miss him. Who am I to crush his crazy hope that a girl with feelings lurks deep down inside me?

Can I just say I hate Fox News? It’s like the Sarah Palin Variety Hour right now and her voice. Holy Christ on a stick, that voice. HATE IT. Do all Alaskans sound that way? Because if they do, we need to kick them out of the union and let Russia have them. I wonder if she sounds like an Eskimo?

I’ve got to go shopping for a cocktail-ish dress this weekend. ECrush is dragging me to a fraternity brother’s wedding in a few weeks and I have nothing to wear. Since I’m not yet emotionally equipped to do the whole “take the boy shopping” thing (it just reeks of trauma and possible fight), I figured boyfriend absence was prime shopping for dress time. It’s also going to be my first venture around town in a Zip Car. Zip! OK, Bionic Kitty is now meowing pitifully. I hope she’s not hurt. I kind of like her. Also, I need more Oreos. eCrush says I’ve begun the downward drunk spiral and I have to go now before I make an ass of myself. I’ve learned to always listen to the sober one.

So, byesies!


2 Responses to “Drunken E-mailing”

  1. Stella Says:

    And my response (to the follow-up apology email) was:

    Please do NOT apologize for this masterpiece of inebriated musing. It has absolutely made my Friday thus far and further solidified my burgeoning girl crush on you. I now realize you are more witty drunk than I can ever hope to be sober (oh, the shoe pun! the glorious shoe pun!) so therefore I must remain friends with you despite the fact that you a) are dating a Republican and b) live in Virginia.

    Still laughing,

    p.s. I hope the cats’ hangovers aren’t nearly as severe as yours. Those bitches do enough damage when they’re sober.

  2. kjohnsonesq Says:

    Just so you know, hungover cats puke. A. Lot.

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