Ouch

Last night was my going away party at work. My coworkers decided that in honor of me escaping that I should consume all the alcohol in Los Angeles. If you are looking for tequila or whiskey in southern California, I'm sorry, you'll have to wait for the next shipment as it's currently all in my body.

Here's a snap shot from my evening:

I sang Sweet Home Alabama, danced, and dropped down on one knee pointed towards the heaven and screamed Lord I'm Comin' Home to YOU at the top of my lungs into a microphone. Two things, one I am 100% tone deaf and two, I am agnostic.

I generally avoid singing in public as I am completely serious about the tone deaf thing. However, the second alcohol hits my liver it's all 'give me a microphone, bitches, this girl needs to burst into song'. It was bad. Very, very bad. And oddly, southern. As around midnight I apparently decided I was in fact from the deep, deep south and spoke as such. Really it's shocking that this much class and distinction can fit into one person. It's a skill.