I Can't Hang

I have been laying low for a couple of weeks due to the hectic work schedule and the return to school. I have been feeling flustered and ridiculous most of the time, so I have opted not to share this with the entire world. BUT, on Sunday, in an attempt to bring back Debauchery Day, I took the day off and went to brunch with Spliff. Let me just say, first and foremost, that I am in no way able to participate in Debauchery Day anymore. It is as if the number 28 has taken over my life and made it impossible for me to drink the day away with strangers who swear that they have never heard “Lady Marmelade”. I am no longer, after several pitchers of mimosas, able to go to another bar and do shots. I am no longer able to stay up past 9pm after doing such things. But mostly, I am no longer able to pretend that I can hang. I can’t hang, ya’ll. I really can’t. I will do interpretive dance to Madonna songs like I always have, but shortly thereafter, I will fall into a coma and wake up wondering why Spliff was wearing a lea while booty dancing around the house. (I don’t even know if that is how you spell that…you know, they give you one made of flowers when you get off of the plane in Hawaii…)

I guess that maybe I should be glad that I can no longer act like a 21-year-old…but in a way, it is sort of sad. After everyone at work swore last week that I couldn’t be more than 20, I was feeling young and ready to party and then I ended up in bed before “Rock of Love” even CAME ON! Hello? What kind of self-respecting person can’t even stay up until 9 o’clock to watch the best show ever? Me.