No matter how hard I try to unwind, I always have this little voice in the back of my mind reminding me I will most likely be up with Big E during the night and/or very early in the morning. So I never blow it out. Or, I RARELY blow it out.
With five days in LA, I knew this was my window, my opportunity to channel the 25 year old version of Mrs. Yoy.
There would be nothing interrupting my wine induced sleep, except maybe an earthquake. I was up to the task.
Friday night, the bride and groom asked us to speak at their rehearsal dinner. We were honored and immediately began working on our schtick.
For the record, Mr. Yoy is a fantastic public speaker, national debate champion, and relentless litigator.
As comfortable as Mr. Yoy is speaking in front of people, I am at the opposite end of the spectrum. I literally wrote out:
GOOD EVENING, MY NAME IS MRS. YOY FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO DON'T KNOW ME.
I repeat, I wrote out my name for fear I would blank. I shake. I sweat. I mumble. I suck.
To combat the side effects of being a terrible speaker, I drink wine. For whatever reason it seems to help. Friday evening was no exception.
I couldn't even throw out the number of glasses I drank as every time I turned my head the waiter topped me off.
By the time we got up to speak (12 out of 13 speeches), I was ready to sing, not speak our speech. That's where I was. I was awesome. I think.
Saturday morning was a tad hairy, but by the time I had inhaled my breakfast, had my spa treatment, and showered, I was ready to do it again!
Which was very convenient as we were about to celebrate a wedding!
Prior to my California arrival, a memo must have circulated about me. It seems that everyone was in on the wine conspiracy.
Maybe I even had the same waiter.
Let's just say my glass never fell below the halfway point.
Again, I was awesome.
I danced, took ridiculous photos, and ate loads of chocolate chip cookies. I think the chocolate chip cookies part was true, although maybe I imagined a waiter with a tray of cookies weaving his way through the dance floor...
And did I mention the boy band cover band? When I heard the first notes of New Kids On The Block, I knew I was about to enter wedding album immortalization.
At about 1:15 PST, Mr. Yoy gently reminded me it was 4:15 in the morning and we needed to go to sleep.
But, I knew that I needed to get my ultra plus super slimming better than lipo spanx off so I could use the bathroom. Yes, that's right. After my many liters of chardonnay, I still hadn't broken the seal.
I couldn't risk not getting the spanx back on. So I suffered. And possibly damaged a few internal organs.
Thus ensued the highlight of the trip for Mr. Yoy.
We entered our hotel room and I made a beeline for the bathroom. I guess during this beeline I used up all the remaining energy I had.
So I did what any responsible adult celebrating her first break from her kids in over a year and half would do.
I took a tiny nap on the potty.
ARE YOU SLEEPING IN THERE?
My eyes snapped open. Mr. Yoy was calling for me.
HOLY CANNOLI, I WAS! BUSTED!
I'm not 100% sure, but I think these guys were at the wedding.