Yup. I did. I got super duper retardedly trashed & these pictures won’t even begin to do it justice.

When I was pregnant with the twins, my good buddy Mario & I got to chatting about this one time (before I was pregnant with Hudson) that we went out to a local SUPER dive bar & got pretty drunk. I had to have Scott come pick me up at Mario’s at like 3 AM & then made him stay there for close to an hour while I sang songs on rockband. See? I remember that night. Like, I had 5 drinks over the course of 5 hours and I was having fun. I wasn’t DRUNK-drunk. I was just having fun.

Anyways, that said- I am a light weight. Sure, I’ve had plenty of great semi-drunk nights in my life, but up until Friday night I had only gotten completely wastoid ONE OTHER TIME. Don’t laugh. I’m serious.

So, anyways. Our conversation. Back to that. Mario made me a deal several months ago that as soon as I was ready for a night out- we’d get a bottle of Dom Perignon & drink it. So Friday- that is exactly what we did.

That’s me & my bottle of Dom & my husband & I sipping some fancy champagne. Shit was tasty & the overwhelming consensus is that I will no longer drink champagne unless it is of this variety. Because it was prettay prettay prettay good. *Larry David voice*.

Then, we walked down to this Mexican place & ate dinner & had margaritas.

Followed by a full glass of southern comfort, a red headed slut & two shots of something containing red bull at the dive bar.

And then? Oh yeah- we weren’t done. Which is why shit gets hazy around this point. The story is, from my friends who were there- that I had at least 8+ more SHOTS at the next bar. I got DRUNKKK.

I know this is like a regular Friday night for plenty of people, except, you know- I’ve been pregnant or nursing for 2 years straight. TWO YEARS. My tolerance was low & my drunk ambition was high.

There is apparently footage of me hugging the garbage man at closing time. Anyways, that’s the story. I got wasted. I was driven home and shoved up my stairs by my friend Steph who weighs about 1/2 of what I do. (It’s amazing I can remember all this!) I then proceeded to yack all over the bathroom & in my son’s potty. I laid face down in the shower to stop the spins & woke up in a cold shower because I had passed out for so long.

But- my husband ROCKED IT that night because not only did he clean my puke but when Truman decided to wake up in the middle of the night? Scott took care of it. And in the morning- he took care of the kids until 11. He brought me water and put a bucket by my nightstand. Husband. of. the. year.

Moral of the story: I can still party like a rockstar. It’s official.