Help a Housewife Out

Yesterday's moment of maternal doubt was brought to you by my so-called-friends.

Mothers are the most competitive bunch of people you will ever encounter. From where they send their kids to school, to what kind of food they put in their mouths, it's all up for comparison. I've always tried to stand above that kind of thinking, but when you see your worse traits emerging in your children...well...it's upsetting.

Today we returned to music class after a two week break. The summer session brings a whole new crop of children. After this morning, I will never doubt my parenting abilities again.

Oh...My...Dear...Lord! I am afraid for the future of this country.

In happier news, I have three more days until my sex-filled--I MEAN--fun-filled trip to see my husband. Woo hoo!

I counted it up last night, and it has been about nine years since the last time I went to a club or bar. Not including the Officers' Club, of course. I'm not a big drinker. I discovered in college that I have a very high tolerance for alcohol. I could out-drink any of the cadets, which bothered them to no end. So if you can't get buzzed, and you have no money, it's better just to be the designated driver. I can't tell you how many cadets I've tucked into bed.

When I went out with my own friends, we usually went to gay or lesbian bars. I would always offer to drive, since I figured it was more their scene. I was there to be supportive. Well, to be supportive and dance like a slut.

The very last time I went to a bar was after my last college softball game. All of my teammates bought me drinks. I had seven large Alabama Slammers that night. I got a little buzzed. Buzzed enough to have to hold on to the wall when I walked to the bathroom.

So this leads me to a question. I know you're all the party experts. Or at least you're the alcohol experts.

I will be drinking this Friday night. Woo hoo! I don't like beer. I don't really like the taste of alcohol at all. (Does anyone?) What should I order?

And be nice now. Let's not embarrass the Tuna Girl. Let's not make this like the time someone told my mother that a Pearl Harbor didn't have hardly any alcohol at all.

Sober or drunk though, I'll still be dancing like a slut!