Too hung over to take the kids to church

We-ellll, as you have probably gleaned from the title, last weekend was a doozy. (Doozie? Doozy? Doozy.) A former co-worker of hubby's held her annual Christmas gathering, to which we were invited. There were bushels of food, and pecks of liquor. It was like, deck the halls with boughs of wine. Thank goodness, too, since I knew exactly 3.5 people at this gathering, and my shy side was coming out. I just had to drown her with four large glasses of red wine, y'all. There is no shyness allowed at holiday parties, you know. Not at the fun ones, anyway.

So at the start, there I was, being all bored and stuff. I was chatting with a very nice lady (one of the 3.5 - she's the .5). But then she got up to greet a new arrival, and I was left alone in my uncomfortable straight-backed chair. Hubby was talking to Someformercoworker, which was fine, but I was bored. Then I was offered a glass of wine, and it was like manna from heaven. Okay, not really, but at the time it sure sounded good.

Partway through my first glass of wine, a couple comes in. The wife used to work with hubby; her husband is a self-made, fairly wealthy businessman. Oh, and also an ass. When I first met him, we were standing near the hors d'oeuvres table, and I was telling him that figleaf-wrapped rice bites were not as good as they sounded (gag). Two sentences later, he's telling me, "My wife doesn't draw a paycheck anymore." After I got over my initial reaction of "Figleaf...paycheck...wha??", I started thinking, "Hey, ass, you've got two beautiful daughters that your wife takes care of (thank God they both took after HER). Let's see a little respect, 'k?"

I left at that point, but a few minutes later, I'm somehow drawn into a conversation with my hubby, the ass, his wife, and some other people outside that familiar 3.5. Ass turns to me and this exchange follows:

Ass: "Do you work?"
Ass's wife: "She has three kids; of course she works."
Pley: "Yes, I'm a stay-at-home-parent."
Ass: "Do you draw a paycheck?"
Pley (thinking he's deaf; he can't be that stupid): "I, um, share with hubby."
Ass: "But how do you earn your spending money?"
Pley (gawd, I can't stand it anymore): "In the bedroom, of course."

Then I walked away, picking up dropped jaws all around. It was freakin' awesome.

The rest of the evening was not so much fun, although the wine did help me have several conversations with fascinating people who shall remain nameless because I cannot remember their names. Or faces. Or whether they were real people or actually lampshades.

I got violently ill later that night, and vowed once again (say it with me): NO DRINKING ON AN EMPTY STOMACH! This happens to me once every five years whether I like it or not (Not). You'd think I'd have learned by now.

And thus the title of this essay. I was still ill the next morning, and we all missed church. Which is a shame, actually, because I'm sure the pastor would have loved to hear about how I earn my spending money.