Sunday Mornings

Sunday mornings are for hangovers and/or sleeping. They are not meant for the following things:

1. Swimming in a hotel pool.
2. Jogging
3. Walking your dog
4. Being subjected to sunlight unfiltered by your eyelids and heavy curtains.

I saw numbers one through three at an ungodly time in the morning on Sunday. I experienced number four while seeing the swimming/jogging/animal walking. I also saw a dog fight in front of Starbucks. Which proves my point that Sunday mornings are not meant for such things. If the owners were snuggled safely in bed, the dog fight would not have taken place.

Saturday night H3.2 and I got all purdified* and went to his company's annual awards/holiday/used to be called Christmas party in a less PC environment. I'm in a list mood today because EVERY muscle in my body hurts which limits my brain's function to write effectively. The things I learned/remembered at said party:

1. If you order a Tequila Sunrise, it tastes much better if you ask for more tequila, more sunrise and less vitamin C.

2. Being a girl is good. Not only do you get a yummy tequila sunrise, the bartender offers you two at a time in order to limit the time you stand in line at the free bar.

3. Alcohol is a horrible drug when mixed with large breasts and bitchy girls. Actually, alcohol is just a bad drug. Just to clarify, I was not a large-breasted bitchy girl. I'm waiting for the holiday party where the open bar serves weed in various grades. Much less drama and more happy people relaxing.

4. I am obsessed with my feet and HNT. I took way too many pictures of my feet during the evening. I shall share on Thursday.

5. I love my/H3.2's new bed. If I hadn't been totally drunk, I would have driven home just to sleep on it.

6. You can take fairly decent pictures from the 20th floor of the Hyatt in downtown San Diego. Clicking on the left picture will show an itty bitty bit of the Coronado Bridge on the upper left quadrant. The center picture is the view looking northeast from my room. If you click on the right picture, you can see the fucktards swimming in the pool on a Sunday morning at 8am. For some reason my blog hates me and my pictures. However, I promise if you clicky on each picture you will see my photos in all their hung over glory.

7. When you cannot eat gluten, and your meal ticket says "Gluten" you get gluten. It should probably say "Gluten Free". I was able to obtain a gluten free meal in the end. It was a large mushroom with much foofery* to disguise the fact that it was a mushroom. H3.2 ate a steak. I am assuming that is because his meal ticket said "Beef".

8. Out of the five mini-desserts served to each guest, I could eat one. My wonderful table mates gave me enough chocolate to kill a large animal. My tummy was happy. It almost made up for the mushroom dinner. Note the Tequila Sunrise at the top of the picture.
*My words for the day:
purdified: dressed up
foofery: a whole bunch of random vegetable crap pilled on top. see purdified.