sad but true - got home from girls' night out before 11 pm. sad? yes. pisshed? certainly. mister monkey helped unpant me, and i lay me down on the sofa, listening to the soothing sounds of antony & the johnsons, drooling slightly, thinking that a) i had a lovely time as per usual with les chicks, and b) i loved coming home to le man, who was all patient and kind and gentle with the drool-removing rag and all.
moi (lying on couch, slack-jawed, drooling, semi-coherent, make-up smeared all sexy-like under my eyeballs): am i ugly?
mr. monkey: no, monkey!
is that love or what?
also, is that old age, the whole coming home before even 11!!!? hardly past 10 in fact! having already consumed a whole bottle of wine. and a free one at that, seeing as the roughly seventeen items in a row that i tried to order were inexplicably unavailable and/or discontinued and/or gone so that our poor frightened waiter was forced to send a manager to our table to quell the growing rebellion and offer us a free bottle of wine which, as anyone who knows me, is one certain way to calm me the fuck down. so i did. drank the mother down, halfsies with s., whose ability to put away wine puts me to shame.
i am apparently in dire need of the occasional estrogen-fuelled (no idea at this point if this is a double-l word, or one of those single-l ones) outing, no offence to my multiple and decidedly lovely male friends. we talk about vaginal lips and speculums (speculae?) and use the word "fuck" with joyful abandon (ok, that might just be moi). we share lipgloss and even occasionally touch each other's boobies. we do, however, draw the line at pillow fights in our underwear so get your minds out of the gutter immediately!
anyhoo, gravol being mysteriously missing from our seemingly well-stocked medicine cabinet, i shall pop a few milk thistles and get me to sleep. perhaps tomorrow i shall sleep in till 8! hooray!