In which I get so mushy and annoying, I want to throw rotten tomatoes at MYSELF

Holy Bejesus, I got drunk last night. I'm talking DRUNK. Drunk to the point of long nasty hangover today. Drunk to the point of not consuming anything but three pieces of bread and like, eleventeen glasses of water. That is what happens when you don't go out for a month or so, that long-cultivated tolerance just goes right down the toilet.

So huge, large, ENORMOUS props go out to Elisa, who dragged my slobbering drunk butt into her home and made me all comfy on the couch, complete with thoughtful garbage can for the not-so-off chance I would need to toss my cookies. Thank you girl, you are a good friend. And I kept my promise to not let you hook up with your ex-boyfriend, right? Maybe by overshooting my Jager-shot mark and rendering myself incapable of walking, instead of just being a good friend and talking you out of it, but the end result is what matters here.

I recently bought my friend Kelly, who loves gnomes (to the point of driving around in the middle of the night and "liberating" them from other people's lawns), a shirt that says "To Gnome Is To Love Me." With a picture of a gnome, natch. And this afternoon she got it in the mail and called me and nearly blew my brains out the side of my head with her Escalated Voice Syndrome thank-you. And immediately after, even though I was so hungover I was reduced to watching the True Hollywood Story of Christie Brinkley, I sat up and CRIED. I'm going to miss my friends so much!!! Kelly, you are always yelling in my ear and I can never borrow your clothes because your boobs are so big, but I love you. I love your crazy hair (just like mine!) and how you are incapable of taking a normal photograph. When I get homesick I will think about drinking Coors Light in your car outside the Alpha Psi cocktail, and wearing Elvis sunglasses, and your Napoleon Dynamite obsession, and almost marrying random Australians. And Emilie, even though you don't deign to read this very much (biaatch!), I love you too. I love that you put up with my European whoring and bad sense of direction for two months, and I love that you get so feisty when someone bugs you, and I love that we can't give you vodka because you'll probably punch someone out. I love how you love kids, and don't like makeup or jewelry but will drive 2 1/2 hours to get your hair done, and refuse to wear any shoes but flip-flops or cowboy boots. Don't forget, we are going to Oktoberfest in three years!! But this time, let's try to avoid the enormous ass-bruises. And Sarah, I'm so glad we reconnected lately. You've been my friend for a long, long time. I must have been a self-absorbed little snot in high school, but you stood by me. Hopefully, we'll continue to be good friends and someday you can represent me in my land-use litigation. Or, more likely, in my public-drunkeness trial.

Girls, I love you. Thank you for being my friend, and don't forget me when I'm 10,000 miles away and sweating profusely because the humidity is 1300 percent.