I'd like to introduce you to my post nuptial hangover . . .
I got to nurse a drunk scientist who had interminable hiccups. Miss M saw that she executed the pre-emptive strike . . . thus, emptying her stomach. She's all about paying it forward.
There was an open bar that had a seemingly endless river of bourbon, the headwaters of which I was trying to discover. (unwise errand, thanks for asking)
The DJ played inexcusible things like "You Shook Me" by AC/DC. I told him I'd dance if he got his shit together and played "I Want You to Want Me" by Cheap trick. It took him a while, but he got it together and I did some dancing while singing at the top of my lungs: feelin' all alone without a friend, you know you feel like dyin'. Oh didn't I didn't I didn't I see you cryin'! There are pictures. The redneck yayhoo busted out some Prince as well which as always makes it impossible to do anything but dance.
Miss M here - It's going to be a loooooooooooooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng post-IHOP drive this morning. Lucky for us an the rest of the world, we're not amateur drinkers anymore. Things could be a lot worse. Where'd we leave the car again? Fresh Hell encouraged me to wear my little black dress. Good thinking since I was all foxy in that get up. However, my sha-na-na-knockers were pretty much out there for the world (read conservative suburban Dallas types) to see. I am forever immortalized as 'that loose canon with the big knockers' in a variety of candid AC/DC-dancing photos. I hate her.
I'm so gonna have a side of bacon.