Happy wh-what?

If there is one lesson to be learned from over the weekend, it is this:

Just because you read the bible and know all the mysteries of the rosary and go to mass every Sunday, does not make you exempt from the ultimate Sunday morning curse:

The hangover.

If there is a secondary lesson to be learned, it is to avoid at all costs, allowing sangria, champagne, rum, vodka, tequila and beer to chill out in your digestive system simultaneously.

I now understand why Jesus just stuck with turning water into wine and didn't expand into other alcoholic venues.

Given my poor choices, I was already in a state of disarray 9:30 a.m. Sunday morning when the phone call came, and out tumbled the words from my Southern Charmer.

"Happy anniversary."

*Gasp*

To put this into the proper context, when I guess the guy you could call my major high school boyfriend and I started dating, it was a little fuzzy as to when we went from non-relationship relationship to relationship. So, for his sake, we picked a day that he claimed was easy for him to remember so we could commemorate moments exactly like this.

He never remembered. Ever. But Seth did.

For the most part, I'm really not one of those girly girls that expects her boyfriend to remember every little anniversary. I always thought it was really dumb when my friends would be out celebrating their 4 month or 8 month anniversary. In my humble (okay maybe sometimes not so humble) opinion, keep it simple and follow the advice of your kitchen measuring cups-- keep it to the quarters, 3, 6, 9 and 12.

I have yet to find a recipe that calls for 1/6 a cup of flour.

And if you're really in need of an excuse for your man friend to take you out once a month, perhaps your solution lies somewhere else entirely.

Finding a new man friend.

Which I clearly don't have to. We'll be celebrating the big 3-monther on the sunny beaches of Florida. This weekend.

I'm going to Disney World!!!!