Jailhouse rock

I blame Elvis.

No no, I do. It's perfectly reasonable. If not for him, "one quick drink" wouldn't have turned into three bottles of wine and a pizza the size of my head. (And me with a bridesmaid's dress to zip up in less than a month...)

Whose idea it was to capture the midnight boogy on video we may never know. Oh hang on... yes we do.

The good news is that I haven't yet hit the hangover. I'm riding high on the tails of the third bottle and with a bit of luck that and a large coffee will see me through the day.

However. Sometime around bottle two (and well into the booze texting zone) I came upon a terrible thought. Once the Boy and I are cohabiting, who will I text at random times of night with my pearls of alcoholic wisdom? Who will reap the benefit of my 4am insights into the meaning of life? (I like to share these moments when they come upon me.)

I'm going to have to give it some serious thought.