Christmas, Dom and a black eye

Last September at our house warming party one of Joe's coworkers gave us a bottle of Dom Perignon. Personally, I think Dom is gross, but anyway. We decided to save it for a special occassion. Seeing as how we were getting married in 11 months we thought the timing would be perfect. However on our wedding night we ended up with two dozen people in our hotel room until 5 a.m. so we didn't drink it then. We brought it on our honeymoon but were evacuated by a Category 5 hurricane before we got the chance to tap into it. So last night on the eve of our first Christmas as husband and wife we busted into a bottle of Asti and I proceeded to get schnockered. I sent Joe to the liquor store around 6 p.m. for another bottle of Asti. At this point I was halfway through putting lights on our tree. He went to four local liquor depots and came back empty handed. I guess we're the only people that drink to get through a holiday? Or maybe others just stock up farther in advance... Anyway, Joe came home and I was drunk and disappointed (not a good combination) until he suggested we break into the Dom. I asked him if he'd rather wait until a more "special" occassion. We both agreed we didn't care about that, and popped the top. As I said previously, I hate Dom, so I cut my 3/4 of the bottle with orange juice. I sent Joe off to pick up our Christmas sushi dinner (I was too drunk to cook) and we plowed through that and I fell asleep on the couch. Our tree at this point only had lights on it. Oh and a lot of needles on the floor. Somewhere around 11:14 (I remember looking at the clock) I realized that midnight mass was probably not going to happen and decided to remove myself from the couch and go to bed. I walked across the house, up our 13 stairs and into our bedroom. My body filled with that warm, not good when you are shitfaced, be careful you are going to hurl, drunk feeling and I waddled toward the bathroom. I remember sitting on the floor next to the toilet. Well that's all I remember. The next memory I have is waking up on top of our white plastic garbage can (which BTW is wedged into the corner of our bathroom between the vanity and toilet) with an empty bottle of conditioner holding up my cheek. I was in excruciating pain and my face was all wet -- I thought from the bottle of conditioner which had been in our shower. I went to wipe the water away from my face, only to find my hand covered in blood. I started to yell for Joe but he was also drunk and asleep downstairs on the couch. And the more I yelled (in my drunkeness I thought I was yelling very loudly, but who knows?) the more I felt like I was going to vomit. So I stopped yelling and started banging the door to the cabinet on the vanity. My logic was if I could get the dog to bark it would wake Joe up to investigate the noise and then he would find me. It worked. The dog barked, and I began to scream for her "Gracie, Gracie", Joe woke up and found me face down and bleeding on top of the toilet. So here's what actually happened. I apparently FELL from what seems like a half standing position. Joe heard a loud thud and went to investigate. All was quiet for about 2 minutes -- about the amount of time I blacked out for -- when he began hearing me bang cabinets, and screaming for the dog. My husband walked into our bathroom to find me half dressed, laughing and crying and, best of all, bleeding, face down on a toilet. He put a bandaid on me, put me in pajamas and then put me to bed. I woke up this morning with a pounding headache, a black eye from where I was attacked by the plastic garbage can, and a fully decorated tree, with gifts underneath it and a pot of coffee in the works. My husband even shut the door to the bedroom so I could sleep off Christmas. I think I win the award for wife of the year.