Wicked Wednesday

Wicked Wednesdays all began with this post.
This week's debauchery is not tied to drunkenness, though I was on the receiving end of a drunk dial from a friend earlier in the week... But I digress.
Corky and I have been carving out time alone when and while we can. She worked a split day this week. 6a-10a, then 9p-3a. She originally was supposed to work until 1p, but got out early. Instead of going home for a needed nap before the overnight inventory shift, she stopped by my house. We hung out for a bit, but I had an appointment at my BFF for some skin care. Following that, I stopped by her place to see what was up. She answered the door in her underwear, and I melted into a puddle at her welcoming kiss. I think I've said it before, but if not, she is talented. Very. Talented. We retired to her room, and as I was leaving a while later, I said I'd better not hear Afternoon Delight on the radio on my way home. Not too much later I received a text from her roommate asking why there were clothes all over her bed, and had I been there for some afternoon delight... I have to admit that I laughed at the serendipity, especially when Corky said she hadn't mentioned the song to her roommate at all...

Wicked Wednesday

I know what today is, and I know there will be MANY posts remembering what happened 12 years ago in the US. I remember where I was, how I felt and the actions I took to try to maintain a peaceful setting for the people around me. However, today is also Wednesday and I am choosing to focus on the fun in my life at the moment.
Wicked Wednesdays all began with this post.

This week's wickedness is not courtesy of drunken debauchery, but a close call bordering on cautionary tale. So I am on my period at the moment. No clue how long it will last. The last one went for 15 days and ended only 16 days before this one started. I have an appointment with my OB/Gyn this Friday to discuss how much this is cramping my style and what to do about it. I cannot enjoy my own climaxes with Corky at the moment, but there is no reason she should be on lock down. I think practice makes perfect and LOVE bringing her pleasure. After The Boys went to bed, we were in the kitchen and I really wanted her to climax. We were getting there, and I moved us to the garage futon. We managed to get to her climax pretty quickly which was a good thing. As she was coming down and still writhing in pleasure (possibly pulling an already strained butt muscle), the dogs caused a commotion rushing to the door separating the garage from the kitchen. I jumped up and over the back of the futon, leaving Corky in her partially dressed state, rushed to the door and almost knocked out The Youngest opening it. It surprised him & he asked what we were doing out there. I said looking for something and cleaning up (not entirely a lie ;-)). He was quickly followed by The Oldest - at about the time Corky emerged, blushing... I washed up a bit and asked them what exactly they were doing back downstairs, and I honestly don't have a clue what they said, or what our discussion was. I did manage to get them to go back to bed, and Corky and I just had a laugh and I told her that life with kids means carving out time whenever you can. She was relieved that The Boys didn't walk in on us (me too)!

Wicked Wednesday #12

It's been a while since a Wicked Wednesday, and I'm in the mood to share.
Wicked Wednesdays all began with this post. I'll regale you with another night of drinking that went horribly, horribly hen wrong. If you are under the age of consent for wherever you live in the universe, take these as cautionary tales. If you are like me and have had your share of poor judgement moments, then we can laugh together. Yes that is a picture of me with a lampshade on my head, doing the shimmy. I will not be posting the names of my cohorts in these wanton ways, but for clarification, will identify them by an initial of their names.
When I was in college, we celebrated midweek as Wonderful Wonderful Wednesdays, and played drinking games, from the simple quarters, to The Good, The Bad, and The Shwartz, and I Never. My favorite, and the potentially most dangerous was I Never. If you are new to the WWW group, you would simply state something you had never done. For example, "I Never ate dog meat". Anyone who had done that act, would then drink. The dangerous part was if you brought along a new date, and people in the group were sufficiently pissed off at you (say an ex among them), and insufficiently drunk to have lapses in memory. For example, "I Never had sex with more than one person at the same time." This may send the date running for his/her sanity. We also drank a punch that was mixed in a garbage can, and consisted of Hawaiian Punch concentrate and 151 or Everclear. Thursday it was imperative to not have an early class, or just accept that you would be hungover and brought to task by Fish - the Tech Theater instructor. The test for any hangover was dropping a toothpick on stage. If you could bend over, pick up said toothpick and stand back up again without puking or passing out, you were allowed to stay without punishment. I think Fish took absolute pity on you if you truly were hung over, because I do not remember a single punishment, and there were plenty of people who ran from stage, or just flat out refused.

Wicked Wednesday #11

Continuing with these posts.Wicked Wednesdays all began with this post. I'll regale you with another night of drinking that went horribly, horribly wrong. If you are under the age of consent for wherever you live in the universe, take these as cautionary tales. If you are like me and have had your share of poor judgement moments, then we can laugh together. Yes that is a picture of me with a lampshade on my head, doing the shimmy. I will not be posting the names of my cohorts in these wanton ways, but for clarification, will identify them by an initial of their names.

So there hasn't been necessarily any drunken escapades. What there has been is a hell of a lot of fun with one person in particular and figuring out how to date after such a long time not doing that. First date was a week ago , but that was after a few weeks of flirting, kissing and other things... We went to see Bound on the big screen and listen to a discussion on the film afterward. It was perfect for my film geeky side, and loved seeing the movie on a big screen. The evening ended at my place with dessert, and it was fun and hot and all kinds of awesome. I just want to continue enjoying this, but I feel likeI don't know if that will happen. A bit bummed at the moment about that. I am only one of many vying for these affections, I can't possibly be at the top of that list, though I hope to be. Also, I can't make a commitment given how burned I was by the last one I made. I really want this to be far more simple than it is, and I keep wondering why it isn't.

I find this person incredibly caring and genuine and with an inner strength and beauty that I cannot compare to anyone else. Just thinking about this person makes my stomach flip. Not traditionally handsome, not traditionally beautiful, the only word I can use to describe this person is fetching. I find myself drawn to many aspects of their personality. Plus, very talented.

Don't want to blow this and not even give it a shot. Can this be simple? Please?

Wicked Wednesday #10

Continuing with these posts.Wicked Wednesdays all began with this post. I'll regale you with another night of drinking that went horribly, horribly wrong. If you are under the age of consent for wherever you live in the universe, take these as cautionary tales. If you are like me and have had your share of poor judgement moments, then we can laugh together. Yes that is a picture of me with a lampshade on my head, doing the shimmy. I will not be posting the names of my cohorts in these wanton ways, but for clarification, will identify them by an initial of their names.

Last week went to a wine bar for karaoke. The KJ is the daughter of a friend. I was driven there in Her fast car. Made kind of a fool of myself, drank an entire bottle of wine, did not eat, and felt pressured to date someone who has expressed interest in another. Despite all of that, had a blast.

Friday I spent most of the early morning with my body purging the wine from the previous night. It was bad. In the shower at 3:30am bad. So, hung over all day. Also texting flirts back and forth with Her. Flirty fun which ended with her saying she would kiss me in time. I told her she better keep that promise. In time.

Time was Saturday... She said she couldn't stop thinking about me and had to kiss me just so she could be at ease. Well, ok then. I got back from the kids swim meet, showered and asked where she wanted to meet. I have to take a moment to say that I was so fucking nervous about this. 1. I have never just met to hook up with anyone ever, and especially not for a first kiss. Mine have all happened more organically than this. 2. I have not had ANYONE even remotely interested or attracted to me in OVER 2 years. And really, who are we kidding, it's probably been more than 6 - 10 years. My self esteem in that area is pretty shitty. Ok. We meet at a park. We walk. We talk. At one point, I just can't take it anymore, I grab her face and kiss her. (oh, I have also not been the one to make a move usually).

Since then? I have a few hickeys to sport - the first in 30 years. Christ. Have been spending time with her. Have been flirting even more. Tonight I may wear somehing low cut, knowing she likes boobs and to see if this will turn into dating her instead of just harmless make out sessions conducted in secret...

So not regrettful at all, and not too wicked yet.

Stay tuned.

Wild Wednesday - reflections of Mother's Day

On Sunday people gathered across the US to celebrate, remember, and even denounce their mothers. Because I did not have The Boys all weekend, I had some time to reflect on Mothers, Motherhood, and the impacts of all women on a child.

Of course my own mom and I have our issues. I think that is the nature of mother/daughter relationships. When I think back to my childhood, and the influential women during that time, I think of my mother first, my sister second - throughout our shared childhood we were at odds, but now we are happily friends and advisers. She is the reason I wanted to and ultimately did have The Boys. Outside of the two, there are a handful of women I would like to acknowledge:

Aunt Trina - My dad's sister, younger by several years and someone I admired while growing up. She ALWAYS took us to Loard's Ice Cream in her Datsun B210. She went to college. She travelled Europe and started my love of The Little Prince, Babar, and Orangina. She was so worldly, but always had time for me. Today, Trina is a widow and a Neo-Con, so we do not see eye to eye on most issues. As far as I am aware, she is still prop choice, however and I can appreciate that. She has two dogs and god knows how many cats. Her late husband was a dog person, and those dogs survived, and may in fact be the last dogs she ever has. She and I share the cat lady label, though I have been better able to handle just one cat. I am considering a road trip with her this summer, which could be interesting.

Lori - A very vibrant and flamboyant Italian who introduced me to cooking with garlic, and that being myself was just fine with the world. I cannot emphasize enough how important this one thing was for a kid who felt completely out of place in her own family. She also lived her life exactly her way, sleeping until noon and staying up late, had a mildly erotic limerick framed in the living room, and let everyone know that she expected sex on a daily basis. She bought my sister and I a new Christmas ornament every year, a tradition I continue with my own kids. Lori recently had brain surgery due to early symptoms of dementia, but was really a physical issue - she is nearly back to her old fun self, with the infectious and LOUD laugh. I simply cannot wait to have lunch with her.

The women of my street - Judy, Joey, Gail and Yvonne - These were the parents on my street growing up and showed me that everyone raises everyone's kids. It was a cooperative effort on my street with all of these women mothering all of the kids at various times of day or night. I have had to answer to them just as I would my own mother. They have informed how I interact with the children in my own life who I did not birth, nor live with.

I hope you all were able to celebrate in some meaningful way the mothers in your life.

Wicked Wednesday

I've been wracking my brain for a Wicked Wednesday post, but I cannot come up with any additional instances where I was completely stupid while also drunk. Sure, there were minor indiscretions, weird proclamations of undying lust after a few drinks, but nothing particularly noteworthy, humorous, or moral inducing.

Damn I have led a fairly safe and boring life to this point. So now, do I come off the hinges, do all that shit I never did? No. I am a mom first and that is my focus, to raise my boys into men. Men who respect people, who are feminists. Men who are not afraid to be exactly who they are, who are proud of themselves and where they come from. Good men with good hearts. The kind of men you want to know, be with, and/or be like.

I know they will have their own wicked Wednesday tales at some point, and I suppose I'm ok with that as long as they learn from those experiences, and do not harm anyone in the process.

It has been a rather maudlin week for me, with no discernible single reason or event to cause such feelings.so I will save thoughts for tomorrow.

Wicked Wednesday #9

Continuing with these posts.Wicked Wednesdays all began with this post. I'll regale you with another night of drinking that went horribly, horribly wrong. If you are under the age of consent for wherever you live in the universe, take these as cautionary tales. If you are like me and have had your share of poor judgement moments, then we can laugh together. Yes that is a picture of me with a lampshade on my head, doing the shimmy. I will not be posting the names of my cohorts in these wanton ways, but for clarification, will identify them by an initial of their names.
For a few years now, I have been hosting what I call Happy Hour Play dates. Basically, it is Friday after school, my kids' friends and their moms. The kids play and the moms drink. We usually rotate houses, and we don't usually drink to the point of puking (thankfully). This particular party coincided with Halloween a few years ago, and was hosted by one of the other moms. We gathered, drank, and then walked the kids around trick-or-treating. One of my friends was bickering with her partner, and complaining about a lack of sex. I had had just enough to drink to offer my services, and the services of my collection of sex toys. My friend was not amused, just even more angry. I seriously think she has not yet forgiven me for what she likely perceived as a pity fuck offer...

Wicked Wednesday #8

Continuing with these posts.Wicked Wednesdays all began with this post. I'll regale you with another night of drinking that went horribly, horribly wrong. If you are under the age of consent for wherever you live in the universe, take these as cautionary tales. If you are like me and have had your share of poor judgement moments, then we can laugh together. Yes that is a picture of me with a lampshade on my head, doing the shimmy. I will not be posting the names of my cohorts in these wanton ways, but for clarification, will identify them by an initial of their names.
For those who know me IRL, you may know I have been involved in a non-profit service organization for nearly 20 years. It also happens to be a fan club of a tropical rock singer (perhaps the first to be considered as such). These fan clubs are primarily a way for people who like the music to connect and we do service projects too. But mostly we drink heavily. We drink after each service project, sometimes during those projects, and we have Happy Hours monthly. Annually, there is a gathering of all of the associated fan clubs, and there is alot of good work, and a whole hell of alot of drinking, and music, and nakedness. I'm almost positive there has been a couple of pregnancies, and likely several STDs exchanged. There is outdoor, in public sex, bead throwing, puking, passing out, and all that goes along with middle aged people cutting loose, who are normally buttoned up.
During one of these annual conventions, I was travelling alone, and drinking with my friends, and found myself, tits out for beads in a bar where there is a web cam... At the point in time I realized that, I was ushered from said bar by a friend, poured into a car and taken back to my place. Following that trip, we instituted a tag system of "If found unconscious, please return to_______" that all members were to wear at all times. It is not uncommon to start a day with Bloody Marys, continue with alcohol smoothies for lunch and on to dinner and additional drinks. The year this occurred was the culmination of 2 weeks spent not sober, with local concert of same musician, Vegas concert of same, and the convention. I have somewhat hazy memories of the whole thing, and was told of the bead gathering at a later date (after we all dried out).

Wicked Wednesday #7

After a long reprieve I am returning to regular posting and so another story from this time in my life.
Wicked Wednesdays all began with this post. I'll regale you with another night of drinking that went horribly, horribly wrong. If you are under the age of consent for wherever you live in the universe, take these as cautionary tales. If you are like me and have had your share of poor judgement moments, then we can laugh together. Yes that is a picture of me with a lampshade on my head, doing the shimmy. I will not be posting the names of my cohorts in these wanton ways, but for clarification, will identify them by an initial of their names.

During my first year of college (where the above photo was taken), my two roommates and I were called the Triplets, and we could not be more different from one another - from the short blond with a mean swagger, to the tall read headed Catholic school girl, and the freckly brunette in the middle, we were quite the sight! We did drink heavily all year, from the liquor store that delivered to the dorms... One party in particular is hazily present in my mind. I believe it was Halloween, and we went as 3 blind mice.

Look at the hair and skinny ties - it was the 80's...
One of the colleges had a party - the theater arts college - and there was alot of acid, and Billy Rainbow, and mattresses lining the stairwells, and plastic sheeting, and bubbles, and I drank WAY too much Bartles & Jaymes wine coolers, on top of a rib dinner. I got to the party, after drinking and eating and riding the shuttle, and promptly threw up in the bushes. I laid down nearby and sent the rest of the Triplets on to the party. I passed out, was kicked a couple of times, and threw up a bunch more. When my roomies came back for me, we decided to walk to the base of campus - in the dark, with no street lights, about 5 miles. We had heard of a party off campus that we decided to go to. We never made it. We walked about halfway there, and were egged by a car full of high school students. Drunk, stumbling, and covered in raw egg, we started back to campus. It was late, and thankfully were able to catch the final shuttle to the dorms.

Wicked Wednesday #6

Trying to continue my Wicked Wednesdays. I'm getting ready to attend my 25th High School Reunion this weekend, so another story from this time in my life.
Wicked Wednesdays all began with this post. I'll regale you with another night of drinking that went horribly, horribly wrong. If you are under the age of consent for wherever you live in the universe, take these as cautionary tales. If you are like me and have had your share of poor judgement moments, then we can laugh together. Yes that is a picture of me with a lampshade on my head, doing the shimmy. I will not be posting the names of my cohorts in these wanton ways, but for clarification, will identify them by an initial of their names.
In High School, one of the places I worked was Shoe Town, a shoe store in a strip mall between a luggage shop and a Rainbow Records. There was a store manager, an assistant store manager and about 5 workers. I was one of the youngest workers, and going through an Imelda Marcos phase of life, so it all worked out fine. My managers were young too - maybe 25? And as such were extremely understanding and helpful should I show up to work on a Saturday morning just a tad hung over. Through the manager, I met and had a crush on the manager from another store. He was really funny and sang karaoke. One night, he invited me to listen to his karaoke, so I hoped in my Mustang II (white with burgundy shag interior - a mini pimp car) and hauled myself out to Fremont. This is not a long drive by any means, but after ordering tequila sunrises (3), and not even being blinked at, I was feeling less able to drive myself anywhere. I didn't, but my not driving actually entailed having one of this guy's buddies drive my car, while I rode with the cute singer to another party in the South San Francisco/Burlingame area. I was drunk, and have no clue other than it wasn't too far from the San Mateo Bridge. I only passed out at the party (I think), and when I awoke at 3AM, I decided I should drive home. The San Mateo Bridge used to have a lighted center divide, and at no time were all the lights working. As a result, the skipping rhythm was nauseating to a bleary eyed teenager. I had to pull over for fresh air once I got back to this side of the bridge, and happily puked my guts out from the stress, alcohol, and acidic orange juice. I shakily and safely drove the rest of the way home, and never drank another tequila sunrise again.

Upon reflection I am grateful that this guy wasn't a scumbag, and didn't try to get laid, as I likely would have gone along with that plan. Hey, I was young, drunk and horny - don't judge...

Wicked Wednesdays #5

It's been OVER a year since I posted a Wicked Wednesday, time to start again, I think. I'm getting ready to attend my 25th High School Reunion in a couple of weeks, and boy does THAT bring up some memories!
Wicked Wednesdays all began with this post. I'll regale you with another night of drinking that went horribly, horribly wrong. If you are under the age of consent for wherever you live in the universe, take these as cautionary tales. If you are like me and have had your share of poor judgement moments, then we can laugh together. Yes that is a picture of me with a lampshade on my head, doing the shimmy. I will not be posting the names of my cohorts in these wanton ways, but for clarification, will identify them by an initial of their names.
In High School I was a Band Buddy. This is likely why I adore Glee today, but I digress. We used to drink Mickey's Big Mouth and go ice blocking at Castlewood Country Club - upper course:

View Larger Map
Looks like kids are still doing this as the area we rode shows up brown in the satellite imaging (far left, middle of the image). OK, so, on this one night, S, R, C, K, maybe M, and I were all sitting under the trees, on the downhill slope, drinking and getting ready to ice block. I was the only Junior in the crowd, the rest were Seniors, and we were there because R lived very close by. When the security forces, or police showed up, we laid low on the hill, and the searchlights missed us, but we knew they'd be back. Deciding on a hasty retreat, we rode down the hill which banked into a cart road at the end. Because we were running from the law, we didn't return to the road, but beat it through the brush to R's house. I think that was also the night we all bleached our 501s, though given the frequency of the ice blocking it really could have been another night. I do recall it was a school night, and the next day, M, R, C, S and K were all in trouble because they all had poison oak and their parents knew who exactly had been ice blocking. I am immune to poison oak and claimed innocence until this very day ;-). I really wish those jeans still fit, and every time I hear this song I think of those times and smile:

And who remembers Marilyn McCoo and the Solid Gold Dancers?

Wicked Wednesdays #4

Wicked Wednesdays all began with this post. I'll regale you with another night of drinking that went horribly, horribly wrong. If you are under the age of consent for wherever you live in the universe, take these as cautionary tales. If you are like me and have had your share of poor judgement moments, then we can laugh together. Yes that is a picture of me with a lampshade on my head, doing the shimmy. I will not be posting the names of my cohorts in these wanton ways, but for clarification, will identify them by an initial of their names.
Today I will be telling you of a very dark time in my life. I was in college. I had gone to school, and my then boyfriend followed me. I tried to dissuade that by being a complete bitch the summer before getting to school. I cannot tell you HOW I came to this conclusion, but I was convinced that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this guy, but didn't want him to hamper my sowing of wild oats at school. And so I went to college, seemingly unencumbered by a high school boyfriend. I saw other people, and eventually so did he, we also occasionally saw each other. Also, we had lots of mutual friends. We were all geeks into Anime, D&D, UNIX BBs, and other generally really geeky things. We had found our niche in college, away from the muscle headed geek beaters of HS, so were were pretty happy. Oh, and I'd dated J for about a year at the point when we arrived at college. At the time of this event, he had just started a new relationship and I was unhappily not seeing anyone. We were at a party at the house occupied by many of our friends. When J arrived with his new girlfriend, I started drinking. I drank a 750ml bottle of 151, chased by a can of Coca Cola. After about half of the bottle, I blacked out. I woke up on my bed, face down, trash can below my face. When I pieced it all together, it appears I did drink all of the rum and coke. I also played chase with some friends around the house, culminating in my jumping out of the kitchen window, taking the screen with me. I jumped up and danced some more. My night ended when they found me in the middle of the street screaming at the top of my lungs, some slurred version of "Blister In The Sun". Two of the people there drove me home, and dumped me into my bed. The hangover was bad, my mood was bad, and I actually considered taking my own life. Until a little voice inside told me that I was being a stupid teenager, and that I was going to let someone else's behavior dictate my life? Oh, PLEASE! I was (and am) stronger than that, much stronger. I cried for days, but I got over it. I moved on, and so did J. I've actually only told one other person this story, and that is my husband. It has caused him to hate J with a white hot passion, and threaten him (although J lives across the country, and likely has NO clue that any of this occurred). I hold no hatred toward anyone (really), and I hope he is happy, much like I hope all of you are happy and healthy.
And for this Wednesday, now that it is running through my head:

Wicked Wednesday #3

Wicked Wednesdays all began with this post. I'll regale you with another night of drinking that went horribly, horribly wrong. If you are under the age of consent for wherever you live in the universe, take these as cautionary tales. If you are like me and have had your share of poor judgement moments, then we can laugh together. Yes that is a picture of me with a lampshade on my head, doing the shimmy. I will not be posting the names of my cohorts in these wanton ways, but for clarification, will identify them by an initial of their names.

It all started innocently enough. I'd won a Pretty Party at Benefit Cosmetics. Let me start by saying that I NEVER win anything that I actually want or could use. I had entered a raffle for various prizes during AIDS Walk San Francisco, as a star walker (one who raises over $1,000). I have entered this same raffle for 10 years, and have been walking for 20. I should also mention that I do not wear make up, much to my mom's chagrin. This Pretty Party was for 10 people, and while I do not personally wear any makeup, I do have several friends who do, and who also use Benefit's line and LOVE it. A few of my friends decided to stay overnight in the city, and I was invited to stay with a couple of them. Totally cool, and fun! The Benefit employees were super nice, and not what I'd envisioned (think snotty suburban department store cosmetics counter). They waxed, they tweezed, they powdered and painted and made us all feel great! We also had happy hour snacks and wine (whites). Following the party, we walked up the street to dinner, more wine (reds this time), desserts and drinks. Great fun and food and friends! My issues did not occur until much later when my stomach decided a mass evacuation was in order. I honestly tried not to wake my roommates (unsuccessful no doubt), as my entire body rid itself of every morsel of food and drink in any direction available. It was ugly. It was gross, and when it was all over, there was cleanup involved. AND when I finally stumbled back to bed, I was only to awaken later with a killer hang over. I really have no clue what happened the rest of the weekend because it was overshadowed by how I felt. That was the first instance of red wine not agreeing with me, but not the last. It has however colored how I think of red wines.

Wicked Wednesday #2

First off, I've decided to remove myself from ABC Wednesdays. With 100 participants, it was pulling me away from Friday Shoot Outs and Sunday Stills just to go and look at all of the posts, let alone thinking up comments.Second, it is also a Weird Wednesday, as I found out yesterday that my fur butt cat is quite the connoisseur - I left my brown rice and lentil soup bowl on the desk yesterday to get some water. When I returned, she was heartily enjoying the dish. It was a slightly spicy Indian lentil soup at that.Wicked Wednesdays all began with this post. I'll regale you with another night of drinking that went horribly, horribly wrong. If you are under the age of consent for wherever you live in the universe, take these as cautionary tales. If you are like me and have had your share of poor judgement moments, then we can laugh together. Yes that is a picture of me with a lampshade on my head, doing the shimmy. I will not be posting the names of my cohorts in these wanton ways, but for clarification, will identify them by an initial of their names.

Given that my last Wicked Wednesday event occurred years after my very first night of drinking that went horribly wrong, one would think that I had learned my lessons by the time I was in my late 30s. Not so. I was going out with my friends J, C, and M. By then I was doing Girls Nights Out (of which some will show up here in Wicked Wednesdays), and really not drinking all that much. I thought I had learned my lesson. Was I wrong! I love red wines, Merlot, and Cabernet Sauvignon are my absolute favorites. I'd already been a vegetarian for a number of years, but reds go well with lots of dishes. On this particular night we were going to dine at Oliveto, and dessert at Bittersweet. I had also invited L, a co-worker who had recently ended a relationship (and upon whom I had a crush). This was lining up to be a horrible ending right from the beginning! Dinner was yummy with pasta and bread (plenty to soak up the alcohol), and in my crushy nervousness, I ended up drinking nearly a bottle of wine by myself. I likely also talked way too loud and laughed way too much. The wine certainly clouded my judgement when we arrived at Bittersweet. A pots de creme, a hot chocolate and a chocolate bar later, and we walked back to BART. I was feeling really good, though my lack of an antacid was starting to be a point of some concern. By the time we boarded the train and were in motion I realized that I was going to be sick, likely all over the train, and near my friends. I was panicky, and upon realizing my panic, my dear friends started looking for items I could vomit into, including emptying my purse, but my stomach was not hearing of it. I ended up keeping it in my mouth until we arrived at the next stop, I got off the train, hurried to the nearest restroom (in an unfamiliar station no less), and exited the restroom victorious. Not a drop on me, the restroom, the train, or my friends, who were all concerned, but duly impressed with my ability to keep something truly disgusting in my mouth without further retching. (Keep your dirty minds to yourselves, thankyouverymuch!) We boarded the next train and headed home without further embarrassment on my part (Thankfully). This event had closely followed yet another red wine incident that I will detail perhaps next week. Since then, I have only had a sip of red wine on rare occasion (maybe twice), and I am sad that I can't really drink wine anymore because I'm not into whites.

Wicked Wednesdays #1

Well, well, well... It seems like you all want a Wicked Wednesday, and so I intend to please. This all began last week with this post. So I guess I'll regale you with a night of drinking that went horribly, horribly wrong. If you are under the age of consent for wherever you live in the universe, take these as cautionary tales. If you are like me and have had your share of poor judgement moments, then we can laugh together.
Yes that is a picture of me with a lampshade on my head, doing the shimmy. I will not be posting the names of my cohorts in these wanton ways, but for clarification, will identify them by an initial of their names.

It was one of my college years at UC Santa Cruz, where I was probably majoring in nothing at the time, or perhaps I was still trying to decide between Psychology, Sociology, Anthropology, Archeology, Physics, Linguistics, or Math. Or maybe I had already broken my parents' hearts and declared Theater Arts as my major... At any rate, I decided to visit my friend "D" at Humbolt State. After a REALLY Looooooong drive, by myself, where I almost ran out of gas and nearly hit a buck crossing the desolate highway, I managed to arrive alive and in one piece. Oh, and needing a drink.

I must take a moment to mention that UCSC and Humbolt are known for a certain weed that is rolled and smoked. However I was never into it, so I was happy sitting and watching people take a bong hit, then run the stairs while holding their breath. And I did love to screw around with people who were high, asking such greatly amusing questions as, "Don't your teeth itch?" and "What do your eyeballs say?" I know, what a horrible bitch I was...

We were drinking Root Beer Schnapps on ice and is was going down far too quickly on an empty stomach, so we headed to one of D's friends and the store (likely a 7-11). For some ungodly reason I thought Fritos would settle my stomach and soak up some of the alcohol. I ate an entire bag. Then "D", and her friend / boyfriend "M", or maybe it was "P" thought a cinnamon milkshake would be the ticket. Let me assure you that it was not. Placing ice cream, milk, and cinnamon on top of alcohol, fritos and stomach acid was a very bad idea. Very bad indeed. I ended up passing out in D's room, and she and her roommate "S" placed me on my stomach with a garbage can nearby. I vomited into that can for what seemed like days, but was really several hours. I'm not quite sure if or how "D" or "S" slept. I seem to recall "S" being particularly nice about cleaning up, while "D" was clearly in the "You made the mess, you clean it up" mood. Hungover and feeling like death on a stick, I made my way back to Santa Cruz. I actually think I didn't have another drink with "D" until we were both well out of college. She probably still either holds that evening against me, or laughs her ass off when she thinks of it!