Three Too Many

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As for tonight, three was three too many. Before I even drank one sip, I was flirting with two women. One was present and one was via text message. When you start a night like that, there's nowhere to go but down. My last text after three Baby A's mango margaritas? Yepper, I confessed to a totally inappropriate crush. Lord Jesus. You gotta love plausible deniability. I said what? Yeah, well... I was drunk. Drunk. It's a miracle I made it home. Suuuure. Unfortunately, I always speak the truth and even more of it when I've been drinking. Yes, three was three too many tonight.

Let's review...

  • Stone Cold Sober - Hey, don't I know you? Yeah, good going, Stacee. In addition, even before my first sip of mango margarita, I sent a picture to a pretty girl. And I don't even like blondes. In general.
  • After Margarita #1 - Pictures posted to Facebook and sent to a pretty girl's girlfriend. I feel good about sending the picture. Even though it was blurry.
  • During Margarita #2 - Of my close friends, I'm the only one who hasn't been kissed this year (yes, PATHETIC, I know). Polite kiss on the lips. I think I kissed my mom goodbye like that last time I saw her. Still, a kiss is a kiss. Go me.
  • Margarita #3 - "Dirty' dancing with a pretty girl in a straight establishment to an awful cover of some song I can't remember. Check please.
  • After Margarita #3 - Plausible deniability at it's finest, I admitted to a totally inappropriate crush on a married friend. Oy. Seriously, oy. And she's a blonde. I don't even like blondes. Historically speaking.
You and tequila make me crazy. Of course, tonight's margaritas were made with Everclear. Damn. I guess that's worse. And it sure as Hell is truth serum. Let me just say that when you type out a text, re-read it, and decide it's ok to send even though it crosses a HUGE line and threatens a friendship, it might be an indication that you're no longer sober. And in a potential truck load of trouble. The good news is that the ramifications of said text won't be felt until the morning. When she wakes up and I've totally sobered up. Yeah, damn. G.E.N.I.U.S. That's gonna suck. Oh, well.... No way to get it back now. Fuuuuck me. Monday ought to be a wee bit awkward. Oops.

Me, pretty girls, and mango margaritas don't mix well. Especially when the pretty girls are blondes. Married blondes. Dammit. I'm dumb. DUMB, I tell you. Thankfully, I'm sobering up. Better late than never. Eh... Maybe not. Reality, like gravity, is a little thick right now.

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