It's a Saturday night, your chance to blow off a little steam, the girls from the office have decided to get together and somebody ordered too may pitchers of Margaritas. You see that good looking guy over by the bar and you would absolutely love to dance with him. The problem you are drunk. Really drunk, and believe it or not guys don't find really drunk attractive. The gang at Glamour Magazine have their six reasons, I've got my own six reasons. 

I must be truthful I find it highly amusing to see people in a slightly tipsy state, it's almost like they have removed their protective covering and are being who they really are underneath. Now there is a big difference between slightly tipsy and really drunk, let me explain.

Reason number one, holding your hair while you "call Ralph" isn't something that will make me want to kiss you later. For goodness sake I am holding your head down there for a reason, do not try to turn your head and talk to me during this time. It will create more mopping and wiping and I just am not up for it. 

Reason number two, you tend to talk way too much about things that don't really matter. Then you want to disagree loudly when you're not supported one hundred percent. I don't know who the bass player for Rascal Flatts married and if she was in Playboy she probably is really pretty. Still it wasn't her who just sent me a text message I promise.

Reason number three, stumbling. Stumbling is kind of cute when you accidentally lose your balance on those sexy high heels and fall into my arms. I like that, but when you're walking like a newborn giraffe with your knees going one way and your ankles going another it just isn't sexy or cute at all.

Reason number four, crying. That's right crying because you saw a half eaten burrito and it reminds you of not eating and the alcohol induced powers of reasoning you have at your command take you back to your memories of Karen Carpenter who died from an eating disorder and all of the sudden its just so freaking sad that you need to blow snot all over my sleeve.

Reason number 5, losing the ability to whisper, or at least talk at a normal volume. After one too many, everything coming out of your pretty little mouth is done at the volume of a rodeo clown during the last go 'round. Plus, the topics of conversation you choose to bring up for all the world to hear include your petty disagreements with people who can hear every word you say , your disdain for a fellow club goer's choice of fashion and the fact that you are bloated and will  need to stop by the drugstore for maxi-pads and Midol on the way home.

Reason number six, putting you to bed. If you were Karen Carpenter you would be a hell of a lot easier to carry but no, you finished your burrito and now I've got to haul your wobbly butt from the car to the house. I have also got to remember your shoes, your purse, your lipstick, the maxi-pads, the Midol and how the heck am I supposed to find the house key on this giant spoon that you call a key ring?

Other than those little things, I think it's just fine when  you have a drink and the designated driver is not me! I can't wait to hear what you ladies think about the fellows when we've had one too many. You can bet we won't be bringing up Karen Carpenter.