Monday, November 19, 2007

I Get a Kick from Champagne

Kinda like being kneed in the nuts by a Care Bear.

Yesterday Kelley and I went to the annual Champagne Cascade (VIP-style) to kick off the holiday season at the Brown Palace Hotel.

[SUMMARY: Rock star!]

I have pictures.

I have movies.

I don't, somehow, have a headache.

Around the third glass of the bubbly, Kelley said, "I'm getting a nice little buzz."

"Me too!" I gushed, "And I just love the champagne buzz. It's all bubbly and happy and shiny."

[SUMMARY: "Look at me!" said the star, "I'm shining so brightly!" Then it went supernova. The moral of this story is obvious.@]

A few hours later, I was lying in the middle of my living room floor wondering why I had no bread in the house and if I was ever going to be sober again.

I called my brother on his underground secret office line% because... well, because we were having family dinner relatively soon and I wasn't sure it was a good idea for me to be all dribbly and fuzzy around my nephews.§

I tried like hell to avoid letting my sister-in-law know of my disgraceful condition, but I finally gave in and called the home line and asked for Brother. He was... doing something. Or eating something. Or fixing something.$ Whatever it was, he couldn't come to the phone. So I told eBeth I'd see her in a little while and went back to wondering how to get sober.

I was just contemplating heating up a Lean Cuisine and ruining my dinner when Brother called.

"Hey," he said in his solicitous voice, "I saw you called. How are you?"


He burst out laughing. Apparently, my mild incoherence coupled with the sniffly cold I've had for days led the SIL to believe I was, perhaps, crying.

It's nice to be loved. But the payback on something like that is never-ending.

Brother offered to come pick me up for family dinner.^ He lovingly carted me door-to-door and back at the end of the night. He brought me cookies and water and something for the impending headache.

And called me Lush at every turn.

And frequently pointed out I was drunk,# even after I'd stopped being drunk.

If there's one thing I'd say I provide my brother, it's entertainment value and a frequent illusion of superiourity.

[SUMMARY: Every person has a purpose.]

Dad showed up just as the giant glass of water and Aleve showed up.

"Got a hangover?" Dad asked.

"Still drunk," I replied.

Oh, the fun we had.

FOOTNOTE (crossed): These are metaphorical nuts. Mostly. I know you know that, but I just wanted the chance to say, "metaphorical nuts." Wouldn't that be an excellent name for a band?

FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Safely locked in the camera, of course.

@FOOTNOTE (atted): from"The Silver Metal Lover" by Tanith Lee

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Not really, but he's the only one who answers that phone.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Who actually may not even recognise dribbly and fuzzy as out of sorts for me.

$FOOTNOTE (moneyed): That's not SIL being cagey. That's me not remembering.

FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): But hopefully saving everybody else's.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): It's all of six blocks. If I had walked in my condition, I would have ended up in Kansas.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Thus: "How would you know? You're drunk." and "Pass the salad... drunk." "Hey, did you drop your napkin?... drunk."

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