The Lad and I went to his office holiday party last night and had an excellent time. I know, because I woke up still drunk.
Even as the gussying-up beforehand is often the best part of an event, the post-party conversation the next morning is always enjoyably illuminating.
Lad: I’m trying to remember if we did anything stupid last night.
Me: I think we were okay.
Lad: I did like your conversation with the CEO’s wife.
Me: …What? I didn’t…wait…
Lad: You had a long conversation about what it means to be the boss’s wife. You were very focused on the term “boss’s wife.”
Me: Oh, hell. [Holds head and groans.]
Lad: And you kept threatening to find Brenda* and spill a drink on her. (*Name has been changed to protect the innocent, and that bitch Brenda.) But you didn’t want to waste a drink ticket. Man, you were telling everyone about that.
Me: Once we got to the Indian place it’s all kind of a blur. I remember taking my shoes off, and a long conversation about how to get Jared’s friend out of jail…and then nothing until I was walking down Market Street barefoot and yelling.
Lad: Yelling? I don’t remember…
Me: Our voices were echoing off the houses on our street.
Me: Oh my god! I’ve become one of those girls! The two a.m. girls who come into our neighborhood and shriek and wake everyone up!
Me: At least you and I can be two a.m. girls together.
Lad: Do you remember how you announced you were going to read a few Wodehouse golf stories when we got home?
Me: [Holds head and groans.]
Lad: Well, I’m pretty sure I didn’t do anything stupid.
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