Or, why I’m taking a break from the vodka.
Text exchange with Nancy Sinatra:

Me (7:35 a.m.): Let’s have brunch when you wake up!
Nancy (11:40 a.m.): Sorry! I just now got your text!
Me (1:29 p.m.): Weird. I have zero memory of sending that.
Nancy: Seriously?
Me: WAIT, NO.
Nancy: You remember now?
Me: Not exactly. I don’t remember texting you but I do remember waking up and thinking about bacon.
Text exchange with Hannah Montana:

Hannah Montana: We were counting and we think you kissed the most people last night.
Me: You were one of them, right?
HM: Yes.
Me: Then everybody wins!
Me: Also, you are WELCOME.
Over gchat with Keith Richards:

Keith Richards: I liked your Madonna costume. Although you could have doubled as a kissing booth.
Me: Apparently.
KR: Did you ever get the name of that Roman senator?
Me: He was dressed as a Roman senator?
KR: Yes.
Me: THANK GOD.
KR: Why, what did you think he was dressed as?
Me: All I could remember was robes and I was afraid I made out with Jesus. I’ve spent the morning trying to figure out how I feel about that.
KR: I want my crucifixes back.
Happy Halloween*, everybody.
PS: Normally this type of entry would go in my grown-up blog, Pantsless After Dark. But I don’t have one of those. So I’ll just trust my mother closed her eyes while she read this.
*(I realize Halloween is long over. It just took about this long to be unhungover.)
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