Ms. Wife of the Year: 1500

Once, at a black tie wedding, I got so black-out drunk, that I followed Mr. Wife of the Year into the men's room, despite his protests and the protests of other restroom patrons and tried to make out with him.  All I actually did was smear my blood red lipstick all over his tux shirt.  The dry cleaner had to use some "special process" to remove it and they charged us and extra $40 for it.  When the shirt and the bill arrived and Mr. Wife of the Year tried to make me pay the $40, I claimed the entire incident never happened and refused to pay up.

At another wedding, I had so many dirty martinis during the cocktail hour that I broke my toe while implementing a newly created dance move and then passed out in a corner before the cutting of the cake.  In my defense, I had been fasting for a week to fit into my 2-sizes-too-small dress, so I can't really be held accountable for the effect of the alcohol on my dehydrated and malnourished body.  Either way, that bride hasn't spoken to me since.

This weekend was different.  I limited myself to 2 glasses of wine (Merlot at that!!) and a single glass of champagne and woke up at 7am after 5 hours of sleep to drive Mr. Wife of the Year to the Newark International Airport so he could board an 11am flight to Shanghai.   All night long I had to endure the vicious rumor that spread like wild fire that I had gone and gotten myself knocked up.  Also- I had to drive to New Jersey... and then home from New Jersey.  Have I mentioned that I am a terrible driver and I hate New Jersey?  Oh, and I only bitched about it like 17 times in the last 2 weeks.  I'm a gem.

+500: practical sobriety at a booze-full event and risking life and limb behind the wheel because somebody needs to be in Shanghai.