Punch Drunk Love

Perhaps the decision to paint my walls day glow tangerine is a result of the previous evening. James and I had 4 hours to ourselves. We sauntered up to the bar at the Olive Garden and, like Cheshire cats, ordered two martinis, giddy with our early arrival and long stretch of people watching ahead. All I know is that for six one, I am a lightweight. If you put me in the ring with Gary Coleman, I'd be knocked out before he took his first punch. By the time Cecelia and Slim arrived, I could barely make it through dinner. In fact, I didn't. I had to excuse myself and pass out in the car while James paid the bill.

I don't remember the drive home.

I do remember rushing past the babysitter, who was shocked we were home two hours early. I told her "I don't feel well, James will pay you."

And then I got under the covers and crashed, head spinning... ready to vomit... more sick than any of my two pregancies.

ONE martini, people. ONE.

I suck suck suck suck suck.

James and I have another five hour date planned for this Saturday (thanks to a babysitting birthday gift from my sister, L.) I'm already hearing cracks from him about,"Hey, where do you think we can go for 45 minutes before you pass out on the couch?"

I hate that I can't drink.

I hate my living room walls.

But I love my Ebay this week. Making some money! Ya'll might get two gifts from the Salvation Army this year.

Okay, off to finish bathing children and make my writing plan for the week. Did I mention I have one and a half weeks to finish this damn pilot? I may not blog as the deadline gets closer. In fact, I may not bathe or cook or change diapers. We all may stink like crap, but my script will smell like roses. And then it will sell. And then I can get a personal chef, maid and nanny to help us all smell glorious again.

...."Delusion" - the latest perfume from Mama P. Available at cul de sacs near you.