Well, Saturday turned out to contain more high-junks than I had planned or was really up for. Dress like a whore, act like a whore, I guess.

Shanny and I did look pretty good in our sleezy Italian Mafia outfits. We got into the roles a little too much, though, and I fear we were pretty obnoxious.

We went to the bar and proceeded to pound back crantinis. Thank god there was hardly any one there, because we got really good and seriously juiced. I don't even remember all of the evening. Parts of it are mostly a big blur. The whorish part was making out quite heavily with Misha (who's a GAY MAN, by the way) right in front of my husband. He doesn't take well to those kind of things. He got a little pissed off and left (although that's where I get a little foggy, so I don't really remember what happened or what we said or anything, until I got home). When I got home he was sleeping in the basement and he was really mad at me.

I went to bed (or more aptly, passed out) and when I woke up in the morning I went downstairs to see if he's gotten over it. But no. Still very pissed. He said just because I was unhappy didn't mean I had to be tacky. And he has a point there. All I could say was "Sometimes I'm tacky. That's part of who I am." But I have to admit, I was none to proud of myself for that behavior. I left the house and went for a walk in the rain, stopping at the top of the hill to sit overlooking the city and have a good cry. I phoned B and talked to him for a while, which made me feel a little better. And then I went back home, not sure what to do.

T was up making coffee and he apologized for being so mad at me. I apologized for being such a drunken idiot. He said let's forget about it. So, the good thing is, we dropped it and forgave each other and went on with our day (hung-over on may part). The bad thing is we never, ever talk about what makes things like this happen. And we're going to have to someday, if we want to survive.

Just maybe not today.

Anyhow, things are okay now. I just feel like an idiot for my behavior. I really don't like it when I get so drunk I can't remember what I did, and I make really seriously bad judgement calls. It really is time to slow the fuck down a little. The good thing is that this might just have been the thing that really convinced me of that. I have no desire to drink or go out or behave like that again.

I should be Catholic, what with all the guilt I've been feeling in the last 24 hours.