Who Let Me Out of the House?

I learned something Saturday night. As my tolerance for noise, snot on my shirt, and cartoons at 6:45 in the morning has risen, somehow my tolerance for all things alcoholic has gone the other way. How can that be fair, I ask you? It seems that I should get some kind of a reward for being able to sing the theme song to Curious George in my sleep.

On a positive note, I am now able to bring Scott this close to wetting himself by my attempts at humor after only one margarita.