On Friday night Liz, Texas and I went to a friend's birthday party. It was there that I ignored all rational suggestions to slow my roll and proceeded to down multiple martinis like they were Kool Aid. They are not Kool Aid. And this is how I ended up over the top, ridiculous drunk by 9PM on Friday. Cut to 3 hours later when we are all in a cab headed home after dinner (they wisely decided food would help me).
When inebriated I get friendly. I like to talk to strangers and ask about their lives. Side note, please remember I am deaf in one ear and when drunk it becomes harder to differentiate noises/voices/common words. Ergo, the conversation with the cab driver went like this:
Me: Hi! What's your name?
Me: Abdul? That's a great name.
Him: (muttering louder)
Me: Oh. George. Abdul, George, whatever. I was close, right?
It was then that Liz and Texas turned bright red from holding in the laughter. You have never seen two people more actively concentrated on not exploding in all your life.
The next day I was so hung over my hair hurt. And that's when I realized that I am old. Very old. And deaf. Let's not forget deaf.