Mimes and The Mashed Potatoes.

I shouldn't drink Alcohol.
Or maybe it's just that I shouldn't guzzle down 20 shots of watermelon, sour apple, fruit punch and grape kamikazes all in one sitting. Not only did I taste the rainbow twice ( going down and up again the next morning) I also pulled my best friends hair, was shoved across a room, lost a clump of my own hair, chucked a ten dollar tip at whale of a woman, slid down an oak tree, said numerous things I didn't mean, made a complete and total asshole of myself, crossed a few lines, wore red sunglasses, hurt someones feel bads, hurt my own feels bads and fed copious amounts of tasty fruity drinks to my friends.
This all lead me to consider AA. I don't know why I act as if I haven't a thing to lose when drinking. I become my own worst enemy in the morning.
So instead of moving into the AlaNO, I am going to limit myself to only a few cocktails on the weekends. That way I don't lose anymore hair or worse.. an actual person I love.
So other than me parading around like a total jackass.. nothing else is really all that new.
EXCEPT.. I did cook!! An actual meal. It was edible and delicious. This is a huge accomplishment coming from the girl who manages to mess up minute rice EVERYTIME, throws mashed potatoes.. because, it's the only logical thing to do with a pot of runny milked spuds that can't be eaten, lives on lean cuisines and believes easy mac is the single most brilliant thing since cheese whiz. I made Campbell's Chicken and Rice. ( Go ahead roll your eyes ) simple, I know! But.. did you hear what I said??
R I C E??!!
Now that I am on the verge of domestication I think I'll go to my local nursery and purchase some perennials and a pot. Just one, I don't want to overwhelm myself trying out my green thumb.
If that goes well.. I may try painting my bedroom. Sewing on a button. Baking a pie.
Who knows, maybe I'll be the Food Networks next big star. Martha Stewart without the prison time. Wouldn't that be lovely? And No, I still wouldn't resemble Ms happy go peppy buy a sofa Brod.
I could make a living at cooking as long as I could eat all the food, be supplied with a personal trainer and lipo suction. It would defiantly beat my current career of sitting in silence for 40 hours weekly listening to the troubles of menopause and Metamucil. Positive note: I think I have enough practice hours in on silence that I could become a certified mime.
That's all for now.