Now that the holiday weekend is over and I have sufficiently destroyed several of my internal organs with bad food and massive amounts of booze, I have returned to work and am currently trying to wake up. I don't think that there is enough coffee in the world. Mornings around here seem to be pretty uneventful and paired with my rock star weekend behavior, I think I might be under my desk in the fetal position in a matter of minutes.
I have to say, though, that I had a pretty good weekend. Friday night I went to see the new Indiana Jones movie with a boy who isn’t old enough to remember the first ones. Which was a little weird for me considering that I watched “Temple of Doom” every day for about 2 years when I was a kid. I find it ironic that I would go, many, many moons later to see the NEW movie in the theater with a guy who is currently a kid. But whatever…I hadn’t been asked out on an actual date by a guy with money and a car in a long time. (I am starting to feel a little Sex and the City about this post). Evidently, the way to go is to snag them when they are fresh out of kindergarten because if you wait much longer, they develop too many bad habits and forget how to treat a lady. But I digress…I had a good time and I am not going to tell you how old he is anyway…because I have my pride. (He is old enough to drink and honestly, what more do I need?)
Since Spliff and Clifftopher had plans for a two-day fishing trip, I got custody of Anthony and The Hater (who I have named that because I am fairly certain that he would start a fight with an actual bar stool if he thought it would make him look cool) and when The Kid showed up on Saturday afternoon after the three of us had had a few margaritas at lunch, things were looking…a little testosteroney. So, naturally, we did what anyone would do, we called L and Jen. Because when all else fails, bring in lesbians. I don’t know how much this really helped but it did encourage swing dancing (I really wish I could explain how swing dancing happens in a smoky, crowded pool hall, but it did…) It also encouraged many, many shooters and more attitude from The Hater. I couldn’t tell if his issue was that I had a boy with me (because he has a bit of a crush on me and has been drunk dialing me in the middle of the night for weeks) or if he was just drunk and ready to rumble. Either way, when he and Anthony left to go and pick up a friend, I was relieved. Everyone could tell that The Hater was just waiting for someone to say the wrong thing, particularly The Kid, so that he could pounce. Luckily for all of us, The Kid was more mature than that and never let him egg him on. (Point 1 for the Kindergarten Team!)
Sunday, after dragging everyone out of their hangovers to have brunch with me, we played a little game of “Dude! Where’s My Car!?” in which the driver has left his or her vehicle in one parking lot or another the night before and decided not to drive home due to drunkenness and then cannot find said vehicle in the morning. Because it has most likely been towed. In this case, that was exactly the final outcome. I don’t know your thoughts on this, internet, but it is my experience that there is nothing better than getting a breakfast buzz and then going to a towing company in the ghetto (while blasting “You Remind Me of My Jeep”) on a Sunday afternoon. Of course, first we had to go by the police station, which is also really high up there on my list of things to do after mimosas. Maybe that’s just me. Anyway, we got the car back and we bought some champagne and orange juice and baked ourselves on Anthony’s deck before going to yet another pool hall, drinking beer, and singing terrible renditions of Gun’s N’ Roses songs at the top of our lungs. Because that’s how we roll.
I was really glad when Spliff came home yesterday because I was on testosterone overload and I thought since I was exhausted and she was exhausted it would be totally acceptable if we just sat around the house in random states of consciousness. Of course, then Rack called and asked about having lunch and being that at noon, I had already been up for 5 hours or so and hadn’t eaten anything, I was down. Rack wanted margaritas, I wanted a nap, but we were able to compromise and I took a nap and then went with Rack for Mexican food and margaritas. Just when I think the debauchery is over, Spliff shows up with ideas of more beer and drinking games. And because it was a holiday, I couldn’t refuse. Before long Rack was wearing two pairs of sunglasses, his baseball hat, a straw hat and a stuffed monkey on his head, prompting Mitch Hedberg refrences and dirty jokes. Eventually, half way through the Asshole extravaganza that was our Monday afternoon, Spliff got pantsed. And that, my friends, is when you know that things are out of control. One minute you are leaning into the fridge to get a beer and the next, you are naked from the waist down. Hooray beer!
Naturally, I feel like I was hit by a bus. Maybe several buses. And it is entirely possible that I should have just stayed my happy ass in bed yesterday rather than getting up and drinking massive margaritas and more beer than will fit in our refrigerator but, shit, it was Memorial Day! The perfect day to get so drunk that you don’t remember anything. Happy Hangover Day!