Well, I went to Rochester and now I'll probably never be allowed back in ever again. The social shame is strong, like pulsing, waves and flashes of my own voice in my head. Maybe a person shouldn't drink for 13 hours straight. And maybe if they do, they should cushion the blows with food before they start.
Yesterday I saw a photo of Fannie at the end of the night drinking a large glass of water and thought: "That bitch was drinking water. No wonder she doesn't hate herself right now." What a betrayal. I thought we were all in this together.
I got to the golf course about an hour late on Friday and was whisked by golf cart to No. 7 where my friends were trading samples of home brew for tricks. Golfers sang a school song or competed in a push ups competition or race with resident athlete Princess Linda. My friends were all so adorable and sunny and festive and giggly. So I immediately dipped into ice for a beer, then chased it with another. We were at a fundraiser for, gosh I don't even know what. Our alma mater?
|Princess Linda schools someone at the old pushups on one leg trick.|