To the people I met for the first time last night at the second party: I'm sorry I dropped my plate of quiche and it went all over your hard wood floor. I don't know why I can't hold onto cheese-based party foods.
To the guy who took me to the parties, and my girlfriend who's known me for 18 years, both of whom gave me those dirty looks: I am sorry that I embarrassed you in front of all those strangers. Those were nice parties and nice people we were meeting and the cheeses were classy and I know I was behaving badly and was not in control of my faculties. I would blame it on the fact that I'd been drinking for eight hours straight, but that's a lame excuse. The truth is, I'm clumsy, and I know it, and I don't know why, knowing that, I don't move a little slower. I don't know why I was flinging my hips and the cheese around. I have no explanation. To my credit, things could have been worse: I almost fumbled a bottle of red, but I caught it before it hit the floor, and I also only narrowly avoided knocking over that elaborate seashell collection, but someone grabbed me while I was brushing by the cabinet and he stopped me from taking it all the way to the logical, terrifying, party-stopping end.
I'm sorry that I smoked in the bathroom. I don't know why I did that.
Yes I do. They didn't have a balcony. And I felt like I needed to escape after I'd made a fool of myself and I knew that you were upset with me and weren't going to console me. I knew I was supposed to go stand in the corner and be quiet for awhile until people started to forgive me about the quiche.
I'm sorry I kept swearing so loudly. And then apologizing. And then the swearing that came after all the apologizing probably seemed insincere. My brain knew that I was really making you mad, but my mouth just kept swearing.
I'm sorry that I was wearing flip flops when the other party-goers were wearing real shoes. I kind of knew when I was dressing myself that I was going to insult people with my footwear, but I didn't care. Now I do, but I know it's too late to go back in time and not wear flip flops.
I'm sorry I called my ex-boyfriend and chatted with him in front of everyone. That was a strange choice. And I'm sorry that he kept texting me to come out and meet him, because I could tell that you both wanted to punch me in the face. But when I met someone who knew him, it got me to thinking he would have understood better than you did about what was happening with me and the cheese. I mean, wouldn't you agree that the cheese really seemed like it was out to get me last night?
I'm sorry I took one billion pictures of the moon from inside and kept saying, "Look at that MOON!" really loud. I know that people probably got the point after the first time I said it. I don't know why I needed so many pictures and had to keep TALKING about it.
But then again, did you SEE that moon last night?
Probably not.
Because you were cleaning up the quiche.
I'm sorry.
"I'm sorry" I wasn't there to witness it all - I love drunken summer episodes like this!! Remember, back in 2000, I went around proclaiming I was going to write a thing called "Eats Quiche, Doesn't Cook It" or something like that? You are "Eats Quiche, Can't Carry It."
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