That's Definitely Jessica's Stench

Things That Have Happened to Sarah Since December the 8th:

Spent a few days in Washington. Threw up in various locations around town, including but not limited to the street outside some girlfriends' house, the back porch of said girlfriends' house, and the handicapped stall (indeed) of a downtown bar.

While in Washington, also smashed (and I mean smashed) an entire large glass tumbler of Jack&Diet on the ground at a very nice bar during an ill-advised attempt to rock back on my 4-inch heels to give my throbbing tootsies a break. Note to self: Slipper drink glasses full of delicious alcohol will NOT actually prevent you from tumbling to the ground, so next time grab onto one of the 18 sturdy men that were about two inches away. If you end up taking them down with you, all the better. You do need a piece, after all.

Ate double my weight in Christmas chocolates, cookies, cakes, drinks, pork, beef, cheeseburgers (this weekend in New Orleans, for example, I ate a cheeseburger that used a croissant as a BUN...which, yeah, mmmm, but also, uh, gaining some holiday weight much, Sarah? Going for the record are we? Well done!), pumpkin bread, pumpkin pie, various breakfast pastries, and cheese. And various other things that will no doubt result in disastrousness when Kels and I head back into Weight Watchers tomorrow evening for the first time in (gulp) three weeks.

Made this incredibly wise decision: The night before I had to be at the airport at oh-six-hundred hours (that's six in the MORNING to lay people) (heheh, "lay" people) to head off to the Big Easy (named after me, of course) (wait...), I assembled some girlfriends and my buddy James at my house for an impromptu pre-Christmas bash. The girls and I consumed an entire bottle of chocolate vodka before James even arrived. James arrives, we kill a bottle of champagne. We go to Margarita's, consume a margarita. We go to Strange Brew for ladies night, where I proceed to spend approximately 13 thousand dollars, despite the fact that drinks are half price. This could explain why I did not remember who drove us home (some dude the other girls picked up, good job ladies), wound up beating James repeatedly at 4 in the morning with the stuffed elephant from my bed (whom he named "Harold" for some reason), and tossing up all 13 thousand of those dollars later on. It would also explain to the guy seated next to me on the plane--in first class, no less--why I reeked of booze, puke and toothpaste. And also why I stole his pillow. Sorry about that, First Class Dude.

(What's with me throwing up all the time? This was a major problem between the ages of 17 and 24, but I'd say I'd managed to get a handle on it in recent years, identifying the point in my binge drinking when it's maybe time to, you know, STOP binge drinking. But in the past six months or so I think I've hurled more than in the preceding 3 years. Highly disturbing.)

Saw the following movies: "Dreamgirls," which was overhyped but still tremendous, particularly the American Idol chick. "The Devil Wears Prada," which was sweet and light, but annoyed me becuase they had the character go from a "fat" size 6 to an "acceptable" size 4 and act all pleased with herself. I thought the point was that she was a "real" girl in this super-skinny high-fashion world. But oh well. Still very good, and Meryl Streep's performance is sublime. "Mission: Impossible 3," which was shockingly awesome. I thought I'd be distracted by my disdain for The Cruise (read: The Crazy) but I forgot about all that for the most part. My only quibble is that they cast a Katie Holmes lookalike as his wife. Come ON. And yeah, at one point I actually shrieked, alone in my living room, "Felicity! No!" I am so ashamed.

Spent Christmas Eve-Eve on Bourbon Street getting shitfaced....with my parents. Did a karaoke rendition of Redneck Woman in a bad mullet wig and a cowbow hat, which was in front of a huge crowd and with speakers blasting outside onto Bourbon street...and my parents were there. Caught beads from balcony dwellers and bought a drink called The Hand Grenade...with my PARENTS. What's funny is that my parents are really fun, and they sure know how to party. But that didn't stop it from being weird, especially when a guy asked my sister to flash for beads...IN FRONT OF MY DAD. I mean, that's just not right, y'all.

What WAS right was Christmas Eve morning at the Cafe Du Monde, scarfing beignets and chicory coffee and feeding hunks of the delicious fried dough to the scrabbly looking pigeons while an awesome guy with a trombone and a tamborine played Christmas tunes.

What was also quite right was when my brother-in-law accused my sister of having boobs the size of babies's heads. Which, I'm sorry, but I just can't get enough of that similie. I can't even look at her anymore. Good thing she lives pretty far away. Babies' heads! Okay, I have to move on, because I'm laughing hysterically again.

Had the following exchanges:

Sister: There's the Superdome.
Me: Didn't they tear that down?
Sister: Well no, becuase it's right there.
Me: No, I thought they had it condemned becuase it was full of poop.
Sister: Right there in front of you.
Me: Is it still full of poop?
Sister: I imagine not.

Dad: I think that's the mule I drove the last time I was here.
Me: You drove a mule?
Dad: Well I got to hold the reigns in the carriage.
Me: There are like 8 mules over there.
Dad: I recognize her stench.
Sister: Wasn't her name like a person? Not something like Bessie or Rosie, wasn't it like, Jessica?
Me: The Bessies and Rosies of the world aren't really happy about having mule-names, I think.
Dad: That's definitely Jessica's stench.

Me: I'm telling you, there is a building they tore down becuase it was too full of poop.
Sister: What is your poop obsession?
Me: It's not an obsession, I just know that it happened.
Dad: I really think they just cleaned the poop.
Me: Can you imagine doing that job?

Seriously almost bought the following on Bourbon Street: 1) A pink cowboy hat with feathers, which was $39.99 but I really did think about it. 2) A string of beads with black penises. 3) A t-shirt that read, "I got Bourbon-faced on Shit Street."

Actually bought the following: Matching feather boas for me and my mom. Awww.

Got awesome Christmas presents, had fun, flew first class to and from New Orleans, and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate. I could have accidentally ingested someone's kid in the last 3 weeks, seriously. If so I apologize. I'll buy you a new one, I promise.

Came home to discover my car battery died from the slow drainage of my satellite radio while I was away. Called AAA, who came and jumped it this morning and then instructed me to let it run for a good 30 minutes. I drove the 5 minutes to work and promptly forgot this instruction.

Guess whose car is dead again?

~raises hand~

I'm wicked smaht.

So that's about that. I'll probably have some more comprehensive thoughts on the Big Easy later on, but I wanted to update, I'm sure you've all been thoroughly depressed without me.