R&R

Mr. Morgan’s company par-tay was last night. Wanna guess how we feel today? Would you also like to guess how many times I had to type that before getting it right as my brain is jello and my fingers don’t seem to like jello.

I’ll save you the guess work – we are TORE UP. I made it back with both shoes, but am down a sock. A good sock. A sock that can never match anything because it’s covered in Christmas trees. So really, I’m down two socks. Mister woke up with a giant headache, both shoes gone – not missing – gone, and a skid mark red patch that is actively scabbing from his tailbone to lower back.

I have a similar patch of fun in the same area but it’s not nearly as impressive. Mine came from assuming a chair was under me upon sitting down. Assuming not only made an ass out of me, it made my ass hate me instantly. There was no chair. I always seem to fall when I’m wearing the most unforgivable falling-on-your-ass outfit, and always when it’s dead silent so that when I go down it’s a massive ruckus and assumed the drunk bitch is at it again. With honesty, I was the most sober person in the place, except for Randall who is Jewish. Why that matters, I don’t know…… I just know when he’s offered a drink, that’s what he says “No, I’m Jewish.”

As he was our chauffeur of the evening, we were content his religious intentions.

I prepared my camera for many photos, many candid shots, but it did not happen. All I have is ass burn, a bag of loot and a photo of the parking lot from our hotel room.

Mr. Morgan’s receptionist always gets little trinkets and what nots for the tables, makes it super pretty. She phoned me at work last week and advised me to get there early and bring a big bag so I could snatch everything. So I did, and the bag was all but a suitcase with a shoulder strap, only to see her come flying over saying “Not YET, at least let people arrive” as my hands were full as could be with the wares, my bag bulging and garland dangling from my mouth because I had no where else to put it. Later in the meal, naturally I had the mentioned fall, and all that loot came spilling out of my bag and rolling onto the floor. All could do was say “But she told me to take all this, I swear!!!” Either way it could not have been the best way to present myself, yet very typical. One day I will stop being shocked at the things I do, and their consequences.

The men were gone for a long time, and I sat quietly by myself mostly – ya know, to guard the bag. I later found out they were at the bar then play fighting outside. Somewhere in between those two activities my Mister, and others became heavily inebriated and there was indecent that resulted in Mr. Morgan having no shoes today. He also has no bank card, but he thinks he knows where he left it – it’s last seen location being “Hey everyone, drinks on me!”

Got back to the room after an episode I won’t mention, and we had two nice queen beds. Seemed great to me, we could each stretch out, yet within twenty seconds Mr. Morgan was snaking his way into my bed. Not to cuddle or touch or anything except pass out, I guess I should think it cute or flattering that he’s so used to laying next me …. but damn, wasted a perfectly good bed! I believe had I moved to the other bed he’d have followed in a sleepy daze like one of the dogs. Oh we’re going here now? Ok.

So we’re home, grumpy, and grunting things to each other that in our heads is english and when spoken… is very much so not. The dogs are trembling like they were beaten the whole night we were gone and shadowing our every move. It’s quite obnoxious. I don’t know if Delilah needs to see the vet again, she’s just been acting funny and the only thing I could tell the vet of her symptoms is she’s shaking and won’t stop following me. Off to nap and put a heating pad on my ass. Tis the season.

-DM