I gibbered a bit.
When I got back to the party, my friends, dear people all, decided that I needed to celebrate this, and Joe, who by now I am beginning to see as a kind of alcohol-laden guardian angel, poured me a little more bourbon than was probably needed, whereupon I got thoroughly soused.
"Do you want some wine, maybe...?" asked Mur, as bourbon fumes roared through my nasal cavities, scouring them bare.
"Oh, no," said Joe, holding up a hand, as I reeled from the bourbon, "wait just a minute, you'll see. She's a really cheap date."
I slid gently downwards towards the floor, and said "I have a two book deal..." and commenced giggling hysterically.
And there was much rejoicing, and then there was more bourbon, and then there were strict orders to drink water so that I didn't go to the tattoo parlor hungover--"Yes, boss...*glugglug*"--and then my Mom called--"HI, URSULA'S MOM!" chorused the assembled, "Hi, everybody..." said my mother, who is a very good sport about this sort of thing, and then my buddy Kevin drove, thank god, because by that point I was only standing upright with assistance from various parties and walls.
Fortunately, I am a reasonably good-natured drunk who does not vomit. And I am not hungover today, and I need to go have a big meal because I'm about to get a major tattoo and OH MY GOD, TWO BOOK DEAL HOLY CRAP--!!
2008, you rock my world.