So, I woke up the morning after "Girls Gone Wild" without twigs in my hair. Granted, I still had my coat and boots on and I was not under the covers but any morning that it is twig-free is a moral victory. I very rarely get hangovers (which while it sounds great is actually kind of a curse) but I was feeling my age on Saturday. Life doesn't stop because you're hanging however. Jack had basketball pictures and a game. I also had to attach gift cards to wine bottles and festoon them with raffia ribbon and shit for the school silent auction. Oh, and finish Jack's class auction item. Glue. Tiny pieces. Good times. And pick up a round of golf being donated by the country club. And then GET READY for the auction, which Dave was also playing at. Of course. So I had to get back on that horse, smack it on the ass and do it all over again. Fortunately my enthusiasm was somewhat dampened and I didn't really get too crazy. Although I probably should have as that would have REALLY given 'em something to talk about. I did notice a couple of those sidelong glances and whispered, "THAT'S her!" things. I just waved and doffed my imaginary cap. Ahhhhh, sweet notoriety! I really did think that it would have been great if I had tumbled into a display or jumped up on stage and pushed Dave out of the way and either started singing or making a slurry speech ending with "so you can all go f$%* yourselves!". That would have been awesome. Why do I always think of this stuff AFTER the fact? Anyway, that was Saturday. I woke up not only without twigs in my hair but also in my pajamas AND under the covers. So there's that. Maybe I am growing up. Nahhhhh.