Ough. Ouch… Oh my Goodness. I cannot keep up with my mother. Ever. Any time I try? I end up on the bull in a dress.

Lovely and graceful. FML.

Home early enough, holding a cute boys phone number. Good lord.

Thank heavens we don’t do this on a regular basis because I’m destroyed a little this morning. Whoa. Anytime there’s penis cake involved, shit goes haywire.

And why can’t you be blackout drunk on the nights that horrify you the most?

It took a little gin to get me in the door with that cake. Go big or go home scares me to death when it comes to carrying a 2′ penis cake in the door.

I cannot keep up with my mother. I lose EVERY time. My sister said it best…

K- Nobody can. I think she’s part superhero.

I’m suffering this morning after inviting the whole gang last night. Wine at the Tunnel, Vodka at DTC, and oooh no. Gin & Goose at the Dive. Ouchiewawa. I don’t know what it is, but my mother is truly, part superhero.

I end up on the bull and she ends up finding paper for the guy who wants to give me his number.

Thankfully I have passed the torch (God Forbid I have to have another divorce party) and my penis cake kicked ass, even without the nightmare that is modeling chocolate.

But I’m praying for sleep… which I can’t find and I’m wishing my face would just fall off like it wants to.

My mom? Is chipper and happy. Offering to make dinner.

Ouch.

Hopefully this blog will serve as a reminder, if only for me, that I should not attempt it again.

Oh my aching head & sore thighs, I’m broken hearted  and wide awake at 7 AM. So incredibly thankful I don’t work until later. Exhausted and dying for some form of relief.

Mommy bright and early, sewing & watching movies with the kids. Because motherhood begins when they wake up, whether you want to die or not. Thankful the roomie is leaving for the day.

Hot tub, shower, nap & kids… the ultimate mom hangover cure since sex & football are out.

Ouch.