Weekend Report: I Got Drunk & Fell Down a Hill

Specifically, this hill:

"SHUT UP. IT'S DECEPTIVELY SLOPEY."

And specifically, I was this drunk:

No. Really. Look at how cleverly ironic I thought I was:

"Klassy! With a C! Or a K. I don't know. Whatever the fuck."

We were at this vineyard:

"Look! We're on the label! It's the Mythical Three Drunk Girls!"

Please note the variety of spit receptacles available to us. We did not use them once, but lo, they were festive.

This was my wound. From the hill. That I fell down.

"Pour some wine on it!"

I would write more, but I am too busy attempting to edit a financial newsletter which needed to go to print about 20 minutes ago, but as it turns out, a contoured changing pad actually DOESN'T make the greatest home office workspace, because even if your clients can't smell the Diaper Genie, YOU TOTALLY CAN.

Please don't ask.

(I really, truly am no longer drunk, I swear.)