Kiss me, I'm drunk

Over the weekend, we went to an event our friends put on every year to raise money for Alzheimer’s.  It’s always a fun time.  It’s held at a bar during an Ohio State football game.  We hang with our friends, there’s a room in which to stash our children for the children, complete with cartoons, crafts and chicken nuggets.  We draw straws take turns checking on them every hour 20 minutes or so.  There are prizes to win, free food and drinks (well, with-purchase-of-a-ticket free) and it’s for a good cause. 

This year was no different.  The free beer was going down fiiiinnne.  The Buckeyes won the game and everyone was having a great time.  Including my favorite person, Drunk SIL!

Sober SIL is superfun, too, don’t get me wrong. But there is something about slanty-eyed, carefree Drunk SIL that just makes you want to be BFFs with her (Call me!). 

As “adults” and caretakers of little people, we try to reign ourselves in when the little people are around. But, well, since they were locked in a room having their own fun, we let our freak flags fly (at least, the non-drivers did; we still try to be semi-responsible - even when we’re acting like complete idiots).

There was a wedding held in the same building that night (we shared a bathroom). And, we noticed this superfun (as we could tell from the music) wedding had a photo booth!

Drunk SIL: Let’s take a picture!

The rest of us:
 

Then:

We loitered outside the restroom, closer to the wedding, trying to figure out how we could get in unnoticed.  After we were on the verge of being arrested a few minutes of looking stupid, we went back to our own party room.  No photo booth pictures for us. 

(Sidenote:  my girlfriend once told me her dad used to crash weddings all the time in his youth.  And I’ve seen the movie.  You’d think we’d be able to pull it off, right?  But, I guess with us in jeans and red t-shirts, we didn’t really blend.  And we weren’t really drunk enough to risk prison time.)

Alas, the evening had to come to a close.  We packed up our hopped-up-on-sugar-exhausted children and made our way for the door.  I didn’t think I was terribly drunk.  I didn’t call anyone an asshole or steal said asshole’s cigarette. 

Nonetheless, I usually run through a checklist in my mind to decide if I’m drunk.

Urge to smoke?
Drunk Lea – yes
Sober Lea – no
Saturday Lea – no

Urge to hug everyone goodbye?
Drunk Lea – yes
Sober Lea – no
Saturday Lea – yes

Pass out Fall asleep in the car?
Drunk Lea – yes
Sober Lea – no
Saturday Lea – no

Eat a lot when I get home?
Drunk Lea – yes
Sober Lea – yes
Saturday Lea – yes

By my calculations, I was only 50% drunk, which is not drunk at all.  However, after speaking to my husband the next morning, I may have to reevaluate my checklist. 

Him:  You sure were chatty last night.
Me:  Oh, God.  What did I say this time?  Did I call anyone an asshole?
Him:  You were definitely entertaining the crowd.

Gaah.  Going forward, I’m adding chatty to my list.  And if it’s yes, I’m hiding in the car until it’s time to go home.