So this weekend my oh-so-adorable boyfriend wanted me to meet one of his co-workers and his boyfriend for dinner. This way we would be including a gay couple into our mix (a la Miranda's boss with her and the lesbo, Sydney).
Anyways, I was amenable and the other couple decided to have us over for dinner at their insanely nice Marina Bay condo. I mean, this place was hooked up. Panoramic view of the city, beautiful appliances, bubbling jacuzzi tub, I mean The WORKS. So we go, and the gin flowed like wine. And you know me, I just love a G & T. Or twelve.
Long story short, I drink my body weight, make out with Stephen on the couch and take off my shirt (I remember none of this). So, Stephen's co-worker & his bf are none too pleased, considering that the boyfriend's kids are in the next room. I am out-of-line (if only he had really seen me out of line- mein gott in de himmel!). Anyways, I am totally inappropriate, Stephen's confused because he's never seen me like this and I decide to pull The Classic Andy Thing To Do While Drunk. I took the eff off. Not since the Manray debacle of '03 have I pulled this shizz. I mean I drank like it was Providence, people.
Then, I got lost in Marina Bay (?) and tried to jump a fence to get back to my destination. Mind you, the fence is topped with barbed wire and I decide that I'll just throw my jacket over the b.w. to continue my journey back to the building, and Stephen, who is waiting for me in the lobby, hoping he doesn't have to sleep there since I am not answering my phone. Suffice it to say, I have a scar on my hand that resembles the Stigmata, and I am still thanking the Christ Child that I have a boyfriend.
My god, will I ever learn?