Saturday, January 3, 2009

Oh 2009

Well in the grand tradition of my New Years Eve celebrations this one did not fail to entail drama not ensued by myself but of course Miss Amber Lane is always the one to sweep up all the drama confetti once the party is over.

The night started off well enough. My cousin and his girlfriend arrived just before I returned home from work and kept the boyfriend company with guitar hero while I scurried to wash (and hide in the stove)  the dishes stacked on the counter before my friend Jen and her husband Scott arrived and Jen and I could prettify. With that task complete I greeted JUST Jen with a smile at the door- Scott apparantly didn't want to "just sit around" whilst we got ready so he stayed behind with their kids at her parent's house demanding that she pick him up on our way  to the bar. Fine. No problem. So we primp and preen, gloss and sparkle and by the time we are finished (and yes I'm vaguely aware it did take the better party of 1.5 hrs to complete said preening) Scott has called at least 3 times wanting to know what's taking so long and when is Jen going to come get him- and he's going to go out without her blah,blah,blah.  Now if it were the boyfriend saying that to me I would cooly let him know that Rome was not built in a day and that he should make him self a cocktail and cool it....because I know Ben would wait- but Scott is just enough of an asshole to stand Jen up so of course she completely freaks her freak and blows off coming with the rest of us to Megan's to visit because she "HAS" to go get Scott immediately. 

Here is where the problems/drama begin. The original plan was for us to take one of our cars and leave one of our cars at my house. When Jen went to get Scott at her parent's house she wanted us to pick them up and leave her car there. Therfore my car would be at the bar and her car would be at her parent's house and when we taxi'ed back to my house after last call ... we would only have Ben's two passanger stick-shift truck to drive them back to her parent's house and me back to my car. Which would have meant Ben would have to drive me all the way to the bar, all the way home to get Jen and Scott and then half way back to the bar to Jen's parent's house to drop them off at their car. And all of this would have to be done at the crack of dawn because they would have to get their kids early all with a hangover. So while we were being the hospitable ones offering our guest room as a drunk hostel they would end up putting us out to schlep them around town. Un-cool.

So this is where I start stressing and worrying over rides and how car sick I get the day after drinking especially in a manual. So subliminally I think this is one I started thinking I wouldn't drink very much- just in case. 

Well minus Jen we drop into Megan and Kenny's for about 15 minutes then head to the bar- where Jen has called to inform me that they already now both cars will be at the bar anyway (a complete diviation from the plan just as I had feared) ....oh and side note my cousin and his girlfriend also drove seperate because it was closer for them to drive straight home from the bar then come back to our house, so they were never a ride option. We arrive, and I'm pleasantly surprised to find the bar filled to the limit with sparkely people, fun favors, food, and good music- so I begin to relax I have a couple vodka crans, pose for pictures and break in my new shiny stilletos on the dance floor. Then things start to go south.

My overly dramatic friend's, semi-asshole husband runs into the girl that he was dating just before he and Jen started dating (5-fing years ago- mind you) and Jen, in her 3 too many California Lemonade state starts freaking out: "He's downstairs with her, he's all over her, they were making out, he was going through her phone so I knocked it out of her hand and I broke it" I begin to get a little nervous here, I'm a lover, not a fighter and my drunk friend is breaking other drunk girl's phones I've had two drinks and am not at all able to throw down. Luckily it doesn't come to that- but it does come to Scott staying downstairs to chat with the girl and Jen going back and forth between sitting alone at the upstairs bar (even though I kept trying to coax her back over to our dance floor adjacent table) sneaking downstairs to spy on Scott, and running back over to me to tell me all the "naughty things" she saw him doing (when I went down the few times that I did- I saw nothing mind you) rinse and repeat.  Neither one of them were handling the situation properly in my opinion but that bit of drama was enough to completely keep from noticing that in the meantime my cousin, thinking we had left took off for home, and Ben had been putting back drinks with the quickness and was dancing crazily by his lonesome in the middle of the dance floor. 

If you can't beat em' , join em' I thought so I procured a third drink and met my drunken sailor on the floor at which time he immediately- though accidentally, knocked my full drink to the floor with his flailing elbows. Fantastic. 

I decided I was finished, it was after midnight, the line to the ladies had gotten outlandish (3 of four stahls were clogged with vomit, and while the masses waited in line for the fourth a girl decided she couldn't wait and began to vomit in the Amber Lane adjacent trash can while her friend's cooed to her and rubbed her back) the boyfriend was clearly wasted, the cousin had left, and the friends were....shit where were the friends? 

So commenced the search for Jen and Scott. After about 15 I found Scott outside smoking a cigarette but he didn't know where Jen was. I sent him to check their van, he reported back that she wasn't there, I searched the bathroom and both floors of the bar- no Jen. Came back to where Scott and Ben were waiting outside and made an executive and sober decision: The van was at the bar, Jen had the keys, if she couldn't bother to tell us where she was going she could drive her own ass back home when she sobered up. I threw Ben in the passenger's seat noting that he was getting sloppier by the second, got Scott in the back and knowing that I had only had two drink plus a teeny plastic goblet of champagne- I drove Scott to Jen's parent's and headed for home. 

Got most of the wy there....about to turn on to my street and the blue and red lights began to flash. Fan-fucking-tastic. 

The cop who came to my window informed me that my tags were expired (isn't it amazing how quickly August turns to January) and that's why he pulled me over. Of course being that its New Years he also asked me if I had been drinking. To which I answered, " I had a couple but not much" which was completely accurate. He goes back to his cruiser just long enough for enough cars to go by and embarrass the hell out of me for being stopped literally in my neighborhood where everyone will recognize me, then returns to inform me that I need to step out of the car I'm being sobriety tested. Yay my favorite. 

I step out in my hot pink wrap dress, confetti still in my hair, onto my shiny silver stilettos and note the cop checking out my cleavage as he asks if I brought any other shoes.

"Why yes officer I have a pair of flip flops that I packed in my clutch just for this occasion" 
is what I wanted to say- but I told him no and offered to go bare foot- he said I might have to but first directed my onto the side walk and administered the oh so scientific, "follow the pen with your eyes and not your head test". That was fun- let me tell you. It was freezing cold but I could tell if I was shaking because of that or because I was afraid that any moment I might pee my pants in fear, its amazing how these tests can scare the shit out of you even after only 2 drinks. I followed the pen back center forth a couple of times feeling as though I could puke at any moment just out of sheer terror and then he clicked the pen and told me that I could keep my fancy shoes on and get back in the car- I had passed- but I was getting a ticket for my expired tags...I didn't even have the energy to beg my way out of it...I did however ask him if he wanted to follow me home so I could get Ben who was swallowing hard and sure to up-chuck at any moment to bed. He told me no but Ben could get out if he needed to (to which I cheekily thought If Ben gets out his ass is walking the rest of the way home) and proceeded to write my ticket, hand it to me and tell me to be safe as I drove the 100 yrds home. Gee-thanks. 

I wish I could tell you that Ben then puked out the window in a well timed, though unintentional response to his expired tags ticketing-when drunk drives were passing us on the street waving half-full champagne bottles out their windows and were truly deserving of the treatment I was receiving- but alas, I pulled away from the location of my public humiliation and up the hill the point nothing mile to our driveway and stomped into the house and into the living room where I discarded my purse and my shoes- only to head up the stairs behind a trail of vomit on the carpet all the way to the ajar bathroom door where Ben was huddled over the comode yet somehow missing with every wretch and launching spittle of vomit all over himself, the floor, the seat, the walls..... I was mad but also couldn't help thinking-my sentiments exactly. I left him to clean up his mess and drag his ass to bed, undressed and popped in a movie in the guest room and climbed into the bed there. You may ask why I didn't sleep in our own bed that night and the two best reasons I have are these 1: I had grand fantasies of our hot but tipsy New Years sex and couldn't fancy the idea of lying next to puke-breathe, while I was completely sober and still wishing I was getting luck, and 2: I also don't fancy the idea of being puked on if drunky's stomach decided to rid its self of any remaining alcohol while he slept.

I called Ma Mere from the guest room and woke her up to tell her the tale that you've just read here. She listened, gave me an "I-told-you-so" on the tags, and admonished on how "Lucky" I was to not get a D-U-I. I told her it wasn't luck it was responsibility and knowing my limits , and I called it a night. 

Everything has since been straightened out. I finally hear from Jen around 11 am- she had passed out across the back seat of the van and Scott hadn't seen her. She woke up sometime around 4, freezing, thirsty, and needing the bathroom and drove to her parent's house. The last I know she and Scott still aren't speaking. I was pretty upset with Ben but we've made up- though I am sad to say I still haven't had sex yet this year. But the year is young and there's plenty of time for nooky in 2009. 

I know this blog sounds cynical and perhaps it is but I do  have to say that I am optimistic for the new year and move on from this adventure with yet another lesson learned and if nothing else maybe next  year I'll remember to get my damn tags renewed. 

Ciao For Now

Miss Amber Lane

Today I'm Feeling:

Relaxed, Sardonic, Content

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