I once woke up from sleep walking to find myself walking out my front door. At 2 a.m. In my bra and underwear. I live in a building with 42 other lofts in a not-so-great neighborhood. All I really want to know is: where the hell was I going? Did I really need a gallon of milk that badly?
The Confessional is now open. Have something you need to repent for? Feel free to send me your sin and I will help your purge your demons.
Sins from fellow Boozehounds:
When my husband and I were still dating, one night after a couple of
pitchers of sangria and several shots, I got the brilliant idea to break
out the stripper heels and Victoria's Secret and do a sexy dance for
him. Except that in my intoxicated state, while putting on the stripper
heels, I did a complete face plant in my closet and fractured my
ankle. Somehow I still managed to pull off the sexy dance (although, to
anyone less drunk than us, it probably looked like a real sh*t show).
The next morning, my ankle was the size of a softball and I couldn't put
any weight on it, so my husband drove me to the ER still reaking of
booze and wearing my naughties underneath a hoodie and sweatpants.
We waited for 2 hours. Twice he had to carry me into the ladies room,
stand behind me and hold me by the waist while I bent over the toilet
and puked up all that red sangria. We told everyone
that I broke my ankle tripping on a grate on the sidewalk. I knew that
day that he was "the one". When my husband and I were still dating, one night after a couple of
pitchers of sangria and several shots, I got the brilliant idea to break
out the stripper heels and Victoria's Secret and do a sexy dance for
him. Except that in my intoxicated state, while putting on the stripper
heels, I did a complete face plant in my closet and fractured my
ankle. Somehow I still managed to pull off the sexy dance (although, to
anyone less drunk than us, it probably looked like a real sh*t show).
The next morning, my ankle was the size of a softball and I couldn't put
any weight on it, so my husband drove me to the ER still reaking of
booze and wearing my naughties underneath a hoodie and sweatpants.
We waited for 2 hours. Twice he had to carry me into the ladies room,
stand behind me and hold me by the waist while I bent over the toilet
and puked up all that red sangria. We told everyone
that I broke my ankle tripping on a grate on the sidewalk. I knew that
day that he was "the one".
ILBAB says: Girl, this is when he knew YOU were "the one". You are a hell of a wife. The most my husband ever gets from me after a couple pitchers of sangria is the prize of pouring me into the car and driving my drunk ass home.
My sister had a baby two weeks ago. She had a C-section and was in the
hospital for a few days so the first time my kids got to meet their new
cousin was in the hospital. After we had been there for a bit I gave the
kids a box of Cheez-Its to occupy them. My son dropped one on the floor
and before any of the 6 adults in the room could stop him, he ate it.
So we all made eye contact and pretended to not see anything. (He's fine
btw)
ILBAB says: Sorry, this was supposed to be bad? Hospitals are the most sterile environment on earth and my daughter has almost put a dog turd in her mouth. If this is your "bad mommy" moment, I think you need to be elected Mommy of the Year and start giving me pointers.
Hospital floors are actually pretty nasty. My husband and I both worked in a hospital, and the floor is not something you want to touch, eat off of, or walk barefoot on (something I would do when sitting at the ER pre-hospital work). A lot of people contract MRSA from the hospital.
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