A late night full of drinking, drinking, drinking, little if any eating, dancing and arguing has left me hungover, sleep deprived, sore and grumpy. I want to throw up, go to sleep and scream all at the same time. Ugga blah poo. Ick.

Things will get better for me. In time. Maybe at lunch when I gorge myself with a burrito or some other equally fattening and calorie laden meal that my stomach needs and my lovehandles don't. God I wish we had a carafe full off bloody marys (bloody maries?) in my office instead of coffee. And an entire extra large sausage pizza. Cold.

So last night I watched a couple dance who were not a couple but danced as if their bodies were totally made for each other. It was amazing and I sat in awe with a dumb smile on my face for a full half hour watching these two people spin and sway and make gorgeous movements across the empty dance floor, obviously smitten and not at all hiding my shame at being a rythmless white girl. I shed a tear it was so beautiful, which led to the argument, being emotional and drunken and probably over critical of Hubb's dancing ability and why can't we do that and I want to do that and why can't we...which led to arguing about arguing which we do when we're tired and fed up and bored with where the previous argument is going. Hubb and I rarely fight, but when we do we get stupid about it and analyze every little word and tone and phrase that come out of each other's mouths until we forget what we're arguing about and just argue for the sake of arguing. Then we fall asleep in each other's arms. Which is nice. It's always good to have a little fight every now and then, if only for the vast appreciation we have for each other when we wake up with in the morning.

That said, I have an amazing and wonderful and thoughtful and loving and incredible understanding hottie husband. He rocks. I think I'll keep him.

I got a large chunk of Christmas preparation shopping done, and am still in shock at how gift bags and tissue paper and gift cards can add up. I always get these wonderfully crafty ideas for Christmas gifts and then kick myself repeatedly during the two weeks before we head home as I scramble to get it all done. This year I thought I was being clever and making things easier for myself, but no. This is not the case. Next year everyone is getting Omaha Steaks. Except for the herbivores. They can have fruit.

This is becoming more of a journal than a blog entry, but I don't care. Though headachy and nauseous, I have random things floating around inside of my and I feel like they all need to be put down here. Now.

I keep thinking of an image of a toddler wearing a black turtleneck, black pants, black sneakers and hipster glasses, and it makes me giggle each time it pops into my head. Where this mental image came from I have no idea. Maybe it's my internal clock starting to tick combined with my love of fashion, I don't know. I can't wait to have a baby so I can make my mental image a reality. Children: little people you can play dress up with! I wonder if they make baby fishnet stockings? THAT would be cute.

You can play PacMan online. That is awesome.

So I've been writing this entry for an hour and half now, getting interrupted by (gasp!) work, of all things. Sheesh. Don't they know it's Friday?

I have also been sidetracking myself with thoughts about where I will go for lunch. With less than 4 hours of sleep I didn't have the mind nor the time to pack any food this morning, save for an orange which I have already consumed. I've been constantly hungry since I arrived at work this morning, despite eating a ham and cheese sammy for breakfast (thanks hubb, my hangover food chef), and then half a bagel and an orange for a "snack". I'm on the way to Holiday weight gain, my friends. Fattening up for the dreary Chicago winter, I am. Now I can't stand it anymore. I'm off to lunch. Bye.