The Day I Became a Ramona.
Its happened guys.
I once fancied the thought I was Bethanny, but after last nights festivities I regrettably realized I am indeed a Ramona. Forehead Slap.
I don’t drink much at all, and if I do I don’t get hog wild anymore. In the last few years this whiskey guzzling, drink you under the table bad ass became a loser whose body gave the big Fuck You to most alcohol. Sometimes instant headache, others instant night in a bathroom. Drinking to find out what would cause my body to become footage of post Katrina wasn’t worth it. Goodbye state of ooey-gooey-I could make out with you forever-wait what did i say-pssshhhh-face plant. Until….
WHITE WINE! Oh glorious wine of the lighter persuasion! You heavenly Pinot, you gorgeous Grigio (whatever THAT means) I can’t even think straight I LOVE YOU!
I rarely go out on weekdays, but not only did I get crazy last night- I drank half a bottle of white wine and felt AMAZING! I can’t remember when I was that happily drunk. Oh wait, yes I can and it was a terrible tequila recovery the next 24 hours. Cough.
That was a year ago.
I will now go to events (i’ve never even been to an ‘event’) sporting crazy eyes while hunting for my famed Pinot Grigio. I will immediately grab a wine list at restaurants and ask in a slightly British accent, “Your best Pinot G. please.” You will never have to ask, White or Red. I will be that person. AND YOU WILL ACCEPT IT.
Side note: Reading Harry Potter drunk is one of the best activities I’ve ever participated in. Bleeps of Bleep, though seemingly impossible in my world, was like sex in my ear last night that I actually giggled on the train listening. How in 8 years I hadn’t listened to my boys drunk, I’ll never know.
I’m banking on that my readers are Housewives voyeur crazies like myself, but if not Bethanny and Ramona are from Bravos “Real Housewives of New York”