Today is #1 Hubby’s birthday. Only, you’d be forgiven for thinking that today is all about me. And here’s why…
A little after 1:30am I arrived home, tiptoeing in
by way of the neighbour’s prized hedge to wish him a happy birthday. Only it came out as more of a “Shappy Furthday” before I slid down the wall and tried to cover it by making it look like I had intended to sit on the floor and not the comfy lounge right next to me.
I then tried to give him my heels for his birthday. At the time, and in that state, I thought this was a most generous and appropriate gift. He declined.
#1 Hubby, showing mega wisdom from all our years together, put a melamine Dora The Explorer plate of food in front of me. Ahh bless, he knows me so well. Unco-ordinated at the best of times, just imagine how I would’ve been with grown-up crockery and cutlery after gallons of alcohol.
After a few attempts, I made it up the stairs. Did you ever see the film clip to that Paula Abdul Song Opposites Attract, where she was going up and down a set of stairs with a cartoon cat? Two steps forward, three steps back etc. etc. Yeah that was me. Minus the cat. And the singing. And the 80’s teased perm. And the tiered mini skirt. But I was quite possibly just one Mojito away from all of that.
I awoke at 8am and smacked #1 Hubby with one flailing arm, while attempting to stop the room spinning. I wished him Happy Birthday again. This time in correct, but still slightly slurred, English.
I stood up to get ready for work. Sort of. Let’s just say I made a valiant attempt at standing up.
#1 Hubby took one look at me and said “Yeah, I should probably drive you to work”.
I responded with “10-4 and Roger That Birthday Dude!”. While saluting.
Because, you know, that’s exactly how I normally speak. Like a surfer stone-head channelling a pilot or truck driver.
And so I have spent my day at work trying to stop swaying from side to side. Crapping myself every time the phone rings or it sounds like someone is coming up the stairs. Because I am certain they will detect my still somewhat inebriated state.
I would claim sobriety, and pass it off as a hangover, only I am having trouble operating my wheely chair. Wheely (boom-boom).
I have kept myself occupied writing the world’s longest email to my Mother (even by my standards it was long…), informing her of the goings on of the past 24hrs. With a warning at the start to make sure she goes to the loo before reading, because she will surely piss herself laughing. And because it may take her 2hrs to read it all.
This was my Mothers Day present / contact, as the #1 Grandparents are in Eastern Europe, floating around on some uber-dinghy doing the swanky wanky cruise thing. Busy playing shuffleboard and bingo and learning how to tango. I followed that little ditty up by signing off with a heart felt “Peace Out”. Now channelling my homies of the rapper persuasion.
Fairly certain she will be just delighted, tickled pink even, to see what a fine lady all that expensive private school education bought her.
And on to the cause of my inebriated state (and can I just say, it is now 3:49pm and I am finally making that delicate switch from inebriated to hung over. The head-fog is clearing, only to be replaced by a thumping headache. I am now able to consume water, and I’m gulping it by the vase full. No that’s not a typo. I couldn’t find a big enough glass in the office kitchen, so I went for the brand new crystal vase instead).
Last night I got to meet fellow Perth Bloggers, thanks to the newly re-branded Digital Parents (nee Aussie Mummy Bloggers), with much loving generosity and support from Nuffnang, and the ever organised host with the most, Colin from Superparents.
My night started with Glowless and the Glowmobile arriving at my doorstep to whisk me away for a night of bubbly and bloggy talk. It was like a meeting of the minds, sitting in the back seat with 11 month old Tricky. Until he started with the raspberries, which I am yet to master.
Wee bit disappointed the G Lady did not show up toting her bogan 6 pack of bourbon and coke as promised. But that's okay, because I did not enter the vehicle toting my other handbag - a cask of wine with just enough sucks left in it to get us to the venue. Would've made an awesome car-toy / travel-pillow for Tricky.
I won't 'kiss and tell' the night's events because
I don't really remember all of it what happens at Digital Parents get togethers, stays at Digital Parents get togethers. Like Fight Club and Vegas trips.
Speaking of Vegas, I have totally smooth-talked my way into a future job with Tweet Perth when they go viral. And it comes complete with company conferences in Vegas, followed by recovery retreats in Bali. I had this verbal contract witnessed by "our" newly appointed legal Rep, Feli from My Life in Mono (who, incidentally, will join the company trips to cover everyone's ass if
when there's any trouble).
My night started in Glowing fashion, and so too did it end. Totally under her Glowing influence, I gate crashed my very first party. Sure, Glowless was invited, but I was not. In fairness, I was ably assisted by This is Taryn who was equally swept up in Glowless' glow. This is probably the point that things got a bit messy for me. Open bar. First drink I saw was a Mojito. The rest is
a fuzzy blur history.
So anyway #1 Hubby has been a total trooper. Disgustingly so. No birthday celebrations, but he couldn't care less about that, or the fact that he's had to take care of the kids and his
inebriated / hung over under-the-weather wife. No fancy meal cooked for his dinner (god love him, he wants KFC, which totally fits in with my hung over need for grease). And not one single complaint. I feel like I should buy him a lap dance for his birthday, or y'know, something equally as selfless.
Stay tuned good peeps, because on Monday I will tell you how I prepared for such a momentous occasion. It involves incorrectly placed dye, sacrificial toothbrushes, and nudey runs through the open house.