disaster set-up.

99.9 % of the time I refuse any offers of being "set-up."

It's just not my thing, it's uncomfortable, I end up talking way too fast & too much, and generally being absurdly ridiculous.

However, I have a friend, who happens to be the best friend of an ex-boyfriend, who I was with for nearly 4 years, that wanted to set me up with one of his buddies.

His rationale: he's a really nice guy, rich, and travels all over the world.

After a couple months of brushing it off, I figured why the hell not.

So Friday night we made plans for my friend to pick me up and we would go meet his buddy for dinner & drinks. 

I even had rules: I had to wash my hair, not wear moccasins, and no plaid.  So I fussed myself up, think skinny jeans, knee high boots, hair spray in my Shakira-esque hair, and threw on some extra make-up.

We had some road sodas on the way, which was way necessary to calm my nerves - or rather loosen me up so I was my chatter-bug self, plus some.

We arrived, met, grabbed some seats at the bar, he seemed nice, we chatted, had some drinks, and ordered burgers.

I love that I ordered an enormous cheeseburger, and the boys did too.  No ensaladas here creepers, no sir.

Anyways, my first impression was that he was a bit smug and very army.  By very army, I mean you legit looked at him, and you knew he was in the army.  There was no question about it, ya know?

So then we proceeded to head to the Legion bar for the town.

We began playing some pool, which I'm terrible at, but I'm a pretty enthusiastic player and I enjoy myself, mostly.

There was a rogue girl sitting at one of the pub tables near the pool table, that I began chatting with.  Several minutes into the conversation she started bawling.

By bawling, I mean seriously, crying.  Tears down the face and all.

I began to panic, like what the hell happened here.

She ran outside to smoke a cigarette.

Phew ok.

Anyways, back to pool.  A ways into playing, which I was teamed up with my friend, and we were playing 2 random guys who were already there, the set-up man teamed up with a girl at another table.

No biggie, but it was pretty clear we weren't hitting it off.

So after a while, when it became blatantly obvious that every time we spoke it turned into a discussion of the army, or him becoming very intense, or an argument that I would attempt to diffuse by being silly, I gave up.

I decided damn, that guy at the bar is smokin'.  I'm gonna go chat him up.

Which I did, and he bought me a shot.  And we flirted a bit.

Then on my return to my friend, a girl pulled me aside:

Heyy, um are you from around here?

Not really, like 45 minute away.

Well, I am, and just a heads up, that guy you were chatting up is on trial for manslaughter.

Oh, right, ok thanks.

Sigh, are you serious?

Anyways, so on the night progressed and the arguments continued.

Now I would never bash the army, I wouldn't.  I respect it, I know my life is the way it is because they are present.

But I have zero desire to discuss the army ALL NIGHT LONG.

I also have zero desire to hear how every single country in the world is miserable and terrible and there is nothing positive about it.  And that if I adopt a refugee child, it will murder me in my sleep.  (I'm serious, that's what he said to me).

Because that's just fucked up.

There is something positive in everything, EVERYTHING.

So I high tailed it to the bathroom where on my way a pleasant gentleman told me I resembled Salma Hayek, which nearly made me pee my pants, because my body is like that of a 12 year old pre-adolescent boy....and in no way close to resembling Salma.  But anyways, apparently I resemble a young, Only Fools Rush In, Salma or something, minus the curves.

Anyways, I got back, to find out manslaughter man and his friends were going to fight army man, like 3 versus 1 style.

I flat out told them it was the dumbest thing I ever heard and then went and threw down on the dance floor.

I mean, there were some good tunes happening.

Thankfully, someone threw a white flag and there was no after bar brawl.

Anyways, the night had clearly come to an end.

Clearly.

So me and my friend hit the road and dialed my sister up and put her on speaker phone.

She was obviously drunk as she somehow misconstrued the situation to that of my friend setting me up with a murderer.  Which she was screaming at him on the phone.

It was hilarious, and a great closer to the evening.

Apparently though the set-up man felt bad the next day and thinks he came across like a douch bag (duh).  And was actually interested and wants to talk to me, about things other than the army, to which I said he has to talk about unicorns and moonbeams.

So now the real question is, second chance, or no second chance and how daring do I truly feel?

pee brain.

In the woods, like all the time.

If I'm headed somewhere and it hits me, on the side of the road.

In parking lots, on beaches, at soccer fields.

If there is a hold up at someone's house, a backyard.

Which one time in college, I was headed back from a party and stopped to pop a squat in a yard, because quite honestly I wasn't going to make it back, and as I was peeing someone inside the house threw on the outside lights.

Peeing in the spotlight, not amazing.

Sometimes when I wake up in the morning and bring my dog outside, it will strike like lightening, and I swear there will be no way I will make it back up my stairs to the bathroom, so I pop a squat in my own yard.

I know, I'm fucking classy.

But really, I just don't care.

If I have to go, I'm gonna go.

So as I was out hiking yesterday, and I hadn't seen anyone in nearly 2 hours, it hit. 

I've got to pee.

So with a quick glance either way down the trail, I popped a squat.

Boom, hello silent bicyclists appearing from no where.

There was clearly no way to cover up what I was doing.

So I just chirped a quick hello, which they proceeded to ignore, and everyone continued on their merry way.

It's a good thing running into those people in the future is seriously unlikely.

wine is not water.

Friday night was wino night with the girls at my friend's house. 

Her hubby was out of the state for a teaching conference or something, so we had a group of us, all with a bottle of wine (or 2) in tow.

For some reason - I was ready to drink, drinkk, drank.

After skipping lunch, I had a couple pieces of pizza and a beer.

Then the wine shenanigans began.

I was putting glasses of wine back like no one's business. 

Like I'm actually serious, I was drinking like 2 glasses to everyone's maybe 1.

Along came midnight, and my realization that I better get the fuck OUT.

So without saying a word, I disappeared upstairs to the spare bedroom and promptly passed out with my feet on the floor.

As it goes - 45 minutes later two of my friends realized I had never returned.  So they ran upstairs to retrieve me.

They bounced me around the bed, tossed me around a bit, attempted to stand me up, before I removed my footwear and slipped under the covers after telling them to fuck off.

They returned to the party.

Apparently (I say apparently because I have no fucking idea what actually happened, HELLO BLACK OUT CITY), but apparently I booted in bed.

I awoke, realized what happened and removed myself from the bed.

Rather than head to the bathroom, I headed to her master bedroom.

I must have gotten all a-fluster after booting some more on her floor (which I cleaned in my drunken stupour thank you very much) - because I booted some more but attempted to hide it.

After this all occured, I took my slightly puke covered self and got under the covers in her bed.

Uhhhh, classy, I know.

Eventually my friend came upstairs - found the puke in the spare room - rounded up all the blankets and sheets and threw them in the wash.

She then returned to her bedroom, aka my new location.

Where is the puke Twiggs?

I didn't fucking puke shut up.

It smells like vomit in here, you puked in the other room, and I need to know where it is.

Shut up, I didn't puke.  I cleaned it up in the bathroom.

You are the only one up here, you did puke, now tell me where it is.

Then she opened her window curtain.

DO YOU SEE THIS?

I drunkenly sit myself up to take a peek.

I didn't do it.

DO YOU SEE THIS?

Ummm, is that puke on the window?

YES, IT IS PUKE.  ARE YOU FUCKING MIA HAMM AIMING FOR THE UPPER 90?!

Yes, friends, not only did I puke at the window - I puked in the upper left hand corner of the window.  I then promptly shut the curtains, hiding the disaster.

I finagled myself out of the bed and proceeded to drunkenly clean the window with toliet paper.

Pretty sure it was unsuccessful.

I then changed out of my attire, threw on some sweet plaid jammies, and walked back down to the still going on party.

I announced that I arose from the dead - threw my hands in the air - and then walked back to bed.

I called my sister and relived the experience with her.

She hysterically laughed.

I did not.  I was mortified.

I then fell asleep with my dog and my friend's dog on the bed.

I woke up, bought everyone brekky (the humiliation I felt and puke still in my hair was free).

I eventually dragged my sorry ass home after repeatedly apologizing to my friend.

Several hours later she sent me a text - I think you need to purchase us some nice candles.

Which I did and dropped them off that day.

Honestly, I have not ever gotten to that point of drunken vomiting.  NEVER.

Apparently I do not know how to gauge my wine tolerance. 

Seriously, please remember that only 2 weekends ago I was ripping shots of vodka, whiskey, having mixed vodka drinks, and beers.

But wine.  Nooooooo.

Perhaps I needed this slap in the face.

With the slap, I officially concluded that I will never again drink wine like water.

In fact, I will likely not drink wine for a very long time.

Barefoot Moscato, you've officially been ruined.

Damn it.

liquor me crazy.

Saturday night mayhem is all.

I skipped dinner, I should probs know better by now.

Guzzled down 5 beers at my friends house and then headed to the local bar with her, her BF from Florida, and his friend.  The plan was to meet our friends there.

Sometimes I get loopy crazy when I drink.  Like dance around, be excessively loud, and attract all sorts of attention crazy. 

First re-cap of the night: lime green glow in the dark nail polish, for the win.  Which I obvs made sure to stick my fingernails up into the ceiling light, shout to someone let's go light up a corner at which point I would dart off at top speed to show off my glowing nails in a darkened part of the bar. 

Secondly, I brought my dog to the bar.  I had him with me because I was at my friend's house beforehand and then well, it was late and I didn't want to call around finding him a place to stay while I went and got boozed up.  So, he came to the bars.

After the first bar dizzy-ness, we set off for the next locale.

We all walked in and who was there?  Well, my pretend liquor store boyfriend but of course.

Pretty sure I attempted to tone down my on-speed behavior and have a normal conversation with him - not sure how successful that was.

Anyways, my friends and I then hung out for a bit downstairs having a beer, and being mellow.

Then they decided to head upstairs to the actual bar sitch.

They all headed up leaving me as the last one.

I turned, took a step, my toe caught - and fucking all mighty I took a fucking spill across the concrete floor in front of everyone, liquor store boyfriend included.  My beer rolled away and spilled everywhere as I laid there on the cold, hard floor in front of a crowd, attempting to determine if I in fact broke my hip or knee.

I didn't. 

My friends however, didn't even see this take place unfortunately.  It would have made the embarassing aspect a bit better if I had them to laugh about it with.

Anyways, I kept drinking along, dancing, watching PBR, and generally being silly.

Then we set off for home.

We stopped to drop my friend off and I ran inside real quick to grab a contact container and she pointed out her new pellet stove.  To which I declared, damn that's a sexy stove!  Because that makes sense.

My friend took my keys and I crashed at her house. 

After making out with her BF's friend from Florida.  Because it seemed normal.

I then drove home at 4AM after he woke me back up in an attempt to hook up.

I think it's fucking code that when someone passes out - you leave them passed out.  You do NOT wake them up, and while they are all sorts of in a drunkenly wake-up stupour, attempt to hook up.

Code mother fucking violation.

So I grabbed my keys and drove home.  Leaving my wallet and my dog's collar behind.

3 hours of left alone sleep in my bed sounded delicious.

a punch to the gut.

It's with a real heavy heart and jittery legs that can't stay still, that I'm writing this post.

In 2008 my cousin, who was 22 years old (and stunningly beautiful, authentic, captivating, and on her way to being wildly successful) died in a car crash.  She had had some drinks at the concert and was speeding on her way home with her boyfriend.  She was thrown from her car and found dead in a tree.  She was brought back, and hooked up to all kinds of machines for a few days before the decision was made, due to her being brain dead and having no chance of recovery, to pull the plug.  All our family was there and it was one of the most heart-wrenching experiences I've ever had to endure.

That's what makes this most recent situation even harder to deal with.

On Saturday morning I received a phone call, her younger brother, now 23, was speeding home from the bar with their older brother after several drinks, swerved his truck to avoid an oncoming car and caused a three car accident.  A woman in the first car he hit was killed.

He is a good kid.  He has a conscience, an amazing girlfriend, and a future.  He is one of those people you could call in the middle of night, and he would be there if you needed him.

I want to shake the bejesus out of him.  What in the HELL was he thinking.

He went through this.  He lost his sister.  His family has struggled through the last couple years, especially my aunt.

Another family now is going to be put through this devastation and the two teenage girls are left without their Mother.

The several eyewitnesses who saw him driving, said he was driving out of control.  Great, eyewitnesses....where was the phone call?  A DUI would be a zillion times better to deal with than this. 

I've had ex-bfs get mad at me before for calling on several what I thought were drunk drivers.  I'd rather call and have the situation checked out than losing someone or having someone else lose someone.

Trust me when I say I'm not blaming the eyewitnesses.  I'm not, but I do wish they would have called. 

It's weird to see your cousin on tv in a court house.  It's even worse to read the comments strangers write online to the newspaper articles.

I hate that my cousin made a decision that will affect him for the rest of his life.  I hate it so much for him I can't even stand it.  Like I said, he's a damn good kid who made one of the worst decisions he could have.  Quite honestly, I'm not sure how he's going to deal with this emotionally.  He knows what it feels like to be on the other side.

I hate that my aunt and uncle are having to go through this.

I hate so much that this other family is going to have to needlessly suffer.

I'm hoping like heck there is some other rationale as to the cause of this accident.  I hope this wasn't just a drunk driving accident.  And I realize that the only reason I'm hoping this, is because he is in fact my cousin, and I know him.  If this were a stranger, I'm sure I would feel differently.

I'm hoping like heck this is a crazy nightmare and I will wake up soon.

Cause it sure as hell was like a punch to the gut.

post fantasy meets reality funk.

I apologize for the lack of posts.  But seeing as I didn't end up running off into the sunset with a new boyfriend on one arm and my dog on the other side, I was all sorts of jaded this week.

Jaded.  Or maybe it's just PMS.

But either way, after working with my boss on a couple of assignments today, he was very concerned.  He wanted to know what was up and why I was so volatile.

VOLATILE.

When your boss asks why you are so volatile, you know you are likely making some poor choices at the work place.

My plan is to wake up on the right side of the love seat (I don't sleep in a bed, because my bed is in the loft, and I don't want to deal with waking up at 3AM to pee, and falling down the ladder....I also don't want to sleep that far away from my dog seeing as he can't get his 80lbs up a ladder) tomorrow morning, post my friday favorites, and kick this funk in the face and get on with my life.

I also intend to drink lots and be all sorts of ridiculous on Saturday.  I'm very excited and 100% convinced that will help me get my shit back together.