Never a Dull Moment

When my phone rang at 12pm this afternoon I was still in bed.  It was my Sister calling, asking: "Did you drunk dial Mommy and Daddy last night?"

Sadly, I had. 

You see, the night before, Hubby and I met my friend Vanessa and her husband Paul at the Beergarden.  I'm not really sure when the night started going pear shaped, but pear shaped it went.

It being Memorial Day weekend, the place was packed.  After standing for a while, we finally were able to squeeze into a table with a bunch of strangers.  They were friendly enough, to Vanessa and I at least.  Feeling neighborly, Vanessa tried on the sunglasses of the guy sitting next to me, who began inching closer and closer until he was practically on my lap.  What the?  I'm almost thirty!  And wearing a wedding band!  And my 6 foot 1 husband was sitting not two feet away! 

Our new friends began asking Vanessa about her necklace, which she'd gotten in Costa Rica.  People kept referring to it as a sand dollar, which it actually wasn't.  "It's a shell!"  she'd laughed, and even went on to demonstrate the strength of it by pounding gently on her fabulous necklace, which promptly split in two.  Woopsie.  (We decided she would superglue it and nobody would be the wiser.)

The conversation continued, although when the eager stranger sitting next to me playfully slapped his hand on my thigh I knew it was time to move.  But that's when another guy started pounding the table, pounding and pounding until...my husband's camouflage cargo shorts were drenched in pilsner.  And I do mean drenched.  As in, it looked like he'd peed himself.

Oh dear.  Words were exchanged, and Hubby expressed his discontent in no uncertain terms.  The table banger in question looked like he was about to either faint or crap himself when Hubby suddenly exclaimed, "I'm joking, man!  It's cool."  Had he been joking, though?  I wasn't entirely sure.

The guy went and got Hubby some napkins.  I heard someone say, "Move down, make room, seriously!"  It seemed my gentle, pacifist husband had really sparked some fear into these Long Islanders.  And then there was the moment when Vanessa tossed a french fry into the table banger's eye.  It was a total accident, you see, her usually having terrible aim and yet...

May I remind you that these people had been kind enough to share their table with us?  It was then I decided that we simply do not play well with others. 

Later, when Vanessa and I joined the rest of the people dancing to the Checkoslovakian band, she noticed someone had accidentally shoved her.  I then watched in horror as my wild eyed friend gracefully kicked her tiny foot into the offending person's ass.  Only, it turned out to be the very same boy whom she'd nearly blinded with a french fry only moments earlier!  This knowledge reduced me to a giggling, incoherent mess.  For reals.  I suppose you kind of had to be there.  (By this time we'd had several pitchers of pilsner.)

Which brings us to the unfortunate issue of the parental drunk dial.  Even later in the evening, when the subject of the Revolutionary War surfaced, I deemed it necessary to call the home of my parents.  I explained to my mother that I needed to settle something history related, and she woke my father, who'd been nodding off in bed while watching a special on Harry Truman.  We wanted to know: had Paul Revere said "The British are coming, the British are coming!" or had he shouted "The regulars are coming, the regulars are coming"?

Dad confirmed and it turned out to be the latter.  My father then spent about fifteen minutes conversing with Vanessa's British husband and no doubt fell asleep with visions of Paul Revere and the red coats dancing in his head. 

Today when I called to apologize, Dad brushed it off with a "what are you talking about?  You're fine!"  Indeed, that night upon hanging up, my mother said goodnight with a "I love it when you're silly."  God I love my parents.

Later that night Hubby and I made friends with three kind men from Turkey, named Mitten (like the glove, he told me), Oz and Oz.  They informed me that Turkey is a primarily Muslim country, which I hadn't actually known, and that Mary had gone there after Jesus' crucification.  Truly, one learns something new every day, even while waiting on line for the bathroom at an outdoor beer hall.

Without boring you with even further detail, it was a sloppy trek home from Bohemian Hall, to say the least.  Vaguely resembling Mr. Revere's famous ride, I'm sure. 

Happy Memorial Day xoxo

Comments

[Weinerdog]

Accident, Schmaccident!
I totally threw that fry on purpose, I was delighted when it actually hit it's mark!

[Weinerdog]

Oh and lets give a shout out to the only other girl at the table who happened to be wearing a dress w/ socks and dirty old sneakers!

[The Odd Broad]

I'm still laughing when I think of you kicking that guy...that was priceless.

Did you try glueing your necklace yet?

[Weinerdog]

I've been too Lazy....hungover to do it.
It's sitting on my bedside table as a reminder of my smart assed antics.

[Sister]

Mommy was mad at me for mentioning your drunk dial to you. She said she doesn't like to bring it up the "day after" because you feel bad about yourself for doing it. How the hell often does this happen? I'm calling a sponsor for you.

[The Odd Broad]

Hmmm...I seem to recall another person (You) and her husband drunk dialing our parents on more than one occasion. How quickly we forget!

[Keely]

If I might add that I have been drunk dialed by sister, but never by the Odd Broad! Who's calling a sponsor for who? Just kidding!

[Sister]

Shut your mouths!

[The Odd Broad]

Thank you Bubs!!

[Juicybaka]

Time to brush up on your 7th grade history... MUCH!!! Wow...can't answer basic Revolutionary War questions.

[The Odd Broad]

My mother has urged me to explain, "Juicybaka" is actually my brother in law playing a prank on me. xoxo