I believe I've previously covered the fine line between Awesome and Asshole, a line which I tread like a coked-up Romanian gymnast on a balance beam.
Case in point.

Got home on Wednesday night around 2ish...everything was fine until the martinis. I do not know what was in that martini but I'm assuming some mix of absinthe, roofies and crack. Oy. Don't actually remember walking home. And apparently I called my sister. And forgot that she was in Georgia, instead of Connecticut, and after being reminded of this six times decided to call it "Conorgia". I remember none of this.
The bits that she was able to recall- for the first five minutes or so I was apparently so incoherent that I was only pronouncing the first half of every word, and she told me I sounded like the swedish chef. At which point I went on a rant about how I wanted a headless rubber chicken to carry around. Which somehow segued neatly into a rant about how I wanted men in suits with those little secret-service earpieces to follow me around and protect me. Because there was a man across the street watching me, maybe, or possibly he didn't actually exist. She wasn't sure. I wasn't entirely clear about it.
At one point I said "ooh, water" and then was silent for a full five minutes. While she laughed helplessly.
Throughout the conversation it seems she was having trouble understanding me because even once I started using whole words, I guess I was omitting all the verbs. It seems we got into a fight about gerunds, at which point I turned and shouted down the street "I have fantastic cleavage and a problem with transitive verbs!!"
Yeah, I don't know. This isn't even fuzzy...I just don't remember a second of it. It rings no bells. You think I'd remember some of this. I really wish she'd taped it. That's really all she could remember even though we talked for about a half hour. Most of it was me going on about how awesome I was. With occasional breaks to yell down the street, things such as "I can't believe I'm talking in the street!"

If I weren't me, I would HATE me. Nights like that I really wonder how on earth I get my contacts out without gouging my corneas. It was only 4 drinks! And it isn't one of those situations where I think it was only four drinks because my memory fades out around drink 7 and then retroactively blurs the previous three. I actually did only have 4. * I don't know what that bartender was playing at with that martini. Possibly I should sue.

Either I am priceless, or I should be sterilized and destroyed. For the children. Won't somebody please think of the children?

PS See? SEE?? And people say I'm being paranoid.
And I really want this to be the first thing that comes up when people google "swedish chef and collection of severed heads." I feel I've accomplished that today.


* Apparently this is not true. Apparently there was a whole other bar at the end there that I do not remember going to at all. Apparently I was speaking french with the bar staff who were attempting to close the bar. I do not speak french. Remember when I said it could be worse? It couldn't.