The Decline

Further evidence of my losing control surfaced yesterday with text messages about the "fabulous pool party we had while you were sleeping". With this monstrous flu bringing down a woman of my social magnitude, I swigged down an cup of Nyquil, an Ambien, and half a Xanax to induce a twelve hour stupor that was rather successful. Unfortunately, that was the same night everyone decided to have a drunken, naked pool party at La Casa.

Although I seldom lock my door, the Gods probably saw what was coming. "I banged and banged on you door naked", Jeremy told me today. Riley wisely left for Spain today, because when I called and asked if it was true that he was on the edge of the pool having his behind eaten out by four Latinos, the stock answer I got was "We can neither confirm or deny that accusation". Jeremy described it as "pirate ass being passed around like treasure".

All this while I was acting like Anna Nichole Smith.