An excuse to post an embarrassing photo.

Happy Birthday to me ... a little late. Two weekends ago, I turned 35. A frightening thought to be middle aged, sans a husband, children, pets and a steady income. I am starting to get frown lines, and the other day was wondering if I should look into that Restalin. Am already in an Obagi pact with my sister, so I feel like adding a few more cosmetic procedures.

To cheer me up, Evil Twin #2 came down from NYC. And as always the events were epic. The whole weekend started out so innocent. Two girls getting crab cakes and going to bed at 11pm on a Friday night. Even the next day was fairly wholesome. ET#2 and I, went to the National Gallery of Art to see the Gauguin exhibit. Sure he was really pervy, but it was art right? We had lunch with friends, a trip to the Cowgirl Creamery. We even had a romantic stroll around the Tidal basin to see the Cherry blossoms. Yup. The whole weekend was going to be wholesome and very middle sized city American.

It all started down the dark dangerous path of liquor , when ET#2 and I started talking about feelings. Yes, that is right feelings. And in the midst of feelings, ET#2 said such a strange thing. "Let's go have a beer with your friends at the bar." Strange, because ET#2 is not really a beer drinker. Sure a glass of wine here or there, or maybe a very fancy fruity cocktail, but not so much beer.

So we go to my bar across the street. We get greeted by everyone. Sweet. And we start on our one beer. Well that idea went totally out the window after the first lemon drop shot. It became a flurry of alcohols, and crude stories. I abandoned ET#2 with my gay closeted neighbor, and they were giggling away at stuff. My friend from down the street convinced us to karaoke with him. As you can see why things snowballed. At the karaoke bar, I was passed a number of shots called Leviticus (actually it is called vitytus, but it was a crazy night). Drinking leviticus was best described by the twenty year old barristo I know, "It is like having a million cinnamon hot bears doing a russian folk dance in your head." ET#2 and I proceeded to sing a number of duets and stumble home.

The next morning I remembered why I don't drink to excess. I wanted to poke my eyes out and rip out my stomach. ET#2 played it cool. She had on her shades both indoors and outside, and even managed some lip gloss. We both felt like this guy below except luckily both of us were too hungover to take pictures.