It started out innocently enough. Good friends (not my BFF, which would be Becca of Ladyornot who manages to do her own peculiar kind of drive-by) leaving for greener pastures so we had the first of many going away parties.
This particular friend is the Drama Queen (DQ) of the group. She must be the center of attention and if she isn’t, there will be hell to pay. She is fully aware of this hiccup in her personality. She will even go so far as to tell you all about it, but she rarely does anything to curb it. I have been hearing about it all week because I’ve had the audacity to ignore her since she returned from vacation. I am being charged a penalty and she’s calling it in.
For my penance, DQ decides that I am to remain by her side for the evening. I’m thinking Greaat … DQ is a mingler; I usually find someplace to park it and just watch everyone interact. She grabs a bottle of wine, slaps it in my hand along with a plastic cup and says “drink this”. I gotta say my eyeballs bugged out. DQ plying me with alcohol is a recipe for disaster. She knows this, yet here she is encouraging me? Okay, I’ll play! I asked for a corkscrew, she reached over and unscrewed the top. I asked for a brown paper bag, she didn’t think I was funny. Boone’s Farm apparently it wasn’t.
So there we are… a bunch of 30 and 40 something’s getting snockered and carrying on. The Goose escaped along with a few of the other guys and I got ordered to play games by her highness. Once again, I knew this wasn’t going to work in my favor. DQ is a very sore loser and it turned out she didn’t get me on her team. I, on the other hand, am a very good winner and it turned out that my teammates were all very good winners too. DQ was ready to quit before the game even got started. I also managed to sever the umbilical cord between DQ and myself and sit by one of my other friends, Crazy Woman (CW). CW and I really should not be allowed in the same room together because we get each other spun up. Since we were already half lit it was worse than usual and DQ didn’t appreciate it; probably because we wouldn’t let her in on the joke. It was more like “couldn’t” because we were laughing too hard but there was also the thing where we were laughing about– The Friend (TF). You know The Friend… everyone has one? They inexplicably disappear with one or more other friends and come back a little different. We all know what our TF does but CW and I were getting crazy about it. Go ahead DQ; give me a bottle of wine! Actually, by this point I had killed the bottle and had started on someone’s Cabernet and was sipping on CW’s pink icy stuff in a Dixie cup.
Uh-huh… Leila was feeling no pain and along with CW had taken over the party.
DQ got pissed and dumped the game (valley girl: OMG!). She stomped off then came back and took the game away! WTF? It was all good though. CW and I were the entertainment by that point and even karaoke wouldn’t pull the crowd away from our shenanigans.
You’d think that would be enough… DQ is not the center of attention. Leila is half-inebriated, loud and talking too much. The Goose should be embarrassed.
Nope… bar. More alcohol. More karaoke. Umbilical cord tied firmly back in place.
CW and her man opted to depart the group which put DQ back at my side. The laughter died with the dearly departed though and I don’t do karaoke. The alcohol was good though. Oh, and I was starting to move, a lot.
The Goose was getting tense.
My moving attracts attention, the kind that Goosey-boy doesn’t like. And he really wasn’t going to like it pretty directly because DQ decided karaoke was boring and wanted to go dancing instead. All I could do was grin; I was all for it. Alcohol and dancing, my favorite mix and The Goose knew it… and hated it.
I was on a roll pissing people off!
Recipe. For. Disaster.
Off we go to a club. DQ grabbing me and I lose Goosey-boy. I hit the dance floor and that is all she wrote. I’m feeling it! DQ and I are dancing, everyone is dancing with us, even people we don’t know… just everyone having a blast. Goosey-boy is chain-smoking and standing on the sidelines glaring at me. Goosey-boy doesn’t smoke. Goosey-boy comes out on the dance floor and says he is going outside.
Okay… Maybe when I was 20…
I don’t know how long we were there dancing. We finally decided to leave and someone asked where The Goose was. We all looked at each other. “You don’t think he left without me do you?” I asked DQ. Then I’m pretty sure I burst out laughing because the look on DQ’s face was priceless. The Goose was our designated driver. No Goose; we were walking.
Not to worry, the man had not deserted us although I’m sure that had little to do with me. I got the feeling he would have been more than happy to drop my drunken ass off the side of the bridge as we were driving over it. I distinctly remember him yelling at me to “stop it” as I good-naturedly waved at the guys in the SUV beside us. I believe there was even a “kiss my ass” thrown in for good measure when I said I needed to get on the computer instead of going to bed.
I tried to blog about this then because I thought it would be funny as hell to do some drunken blogging while it was all fresh in my mind but this is what I ended up with:
Thekna vie;;k leng aptjhekkethek;ao kwe;a; the mena akn great drink my friends are all abuot
I’m not sure my forehead didn’t bounce and delete part of it. Or maybe it had something to do with the rice I found sticking to the keys.
What I do know is I was relieved when I rushed down to the computer and found I hadn’t been so drunk as to hit “PUBLISH”.