(uN)aMuSiNG MuSiNG ~ verbal barbs of iNToXiCaTiNG proportions

Last night, a glass of white wine turned into a tall Bacardi & Diet which gave way to two large pitchers of (low calorie and low-carb, of course) margaritas which was night-capped with a 20-ounce Miller Lite. Needless to say, I was a tad tipsy.

Well, don't ask my 80-proof intoxicated state why or how... but my better half BF and I went from lovey-dovey lustbirds to verbal barb hurdling bitches. It was like a scene out of War of the Roses. Only there were no roses and my best Kathleen Turner impression went unapplauded by all within earshot.

When we fight, the two of us fight nasty and dirty. Not physically, mind you. (Please! I can barely squat in my size 29 Diesels, yet alone power kick someone in the groin.) Our attacks are verbal, and they sting deeper than any bitch slap to the face ever could.

But thanks to the memory-erasing power of hard-proof booze, I remember none of it. Well, I faintly recall something about being called a "taint sweat drinker" or something in that ever-romantic vain. But for the most part, 10 PM and post is a black hole of violent verbiage.

I'm sorry, sweetie, for anything I may or may not have said last night. I just blogged to say I love you, and I mean it from the bottom of my bottom...!!