Last night I capped off the work week with drinks and hors d'oeurvres at my dear friend's wine and cheese party. It had been a long week and I was finally done planning my own annual holiday party, which was right around the corner and set for this Saturday. In preparation for the big party this weekend I decided to take Friday off for a real 'me' day. I was going to give myself a facial at home Thursday night, Soul Cycle with the milfy ladies who don't work in the morning, and treat myself to a mani-pedi in the afternoon. My excitement over my dreamy day egged me on at the wine event to have another glass and next thing I knew we were clinking and cheersing our way through four bottles of wine. Was I roofied by my dear friend, host of the wine and cheese party? Probably not. Did I end up drinking a bottle and a half of wine myself before stumbling home? Probably yes. The rest of the night is fuzzy but definitely involved me not washing my face before bed, let alone apply my high-tech overnight facial treatment, and becoming the kind of deathly ill I hadn't experienced since college. Needless to say I was not in the the right place to be cycling with the competitive stay at home moms of Tribeca. I missed my coveted non-refundable spin class and instead watched the '16 & Pregnant' marathon on MTV. By the time I emerged from my apartment and shakily joined the rest of civilization at 3:00PM I had vowed never to drink wine again, which leads me to the point of this post. If you see me jovially drinking a glass of wine at the holiday party this Saturday night you have full permission to pour it over my head and slap me in the face. Thanks, see you there!
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