ladies

alright, so with my motor skills back in order...i'll elaborate on my girls night out on saturday. to begin, last friday night was the first official night that carrie slept through the night. i can't be the only parent who has had a full blown panic attack when their child does this for the first time. i went into her room in the morning...to see if she was still breathing. you go so many nights of waking up to a squawking baby, that when they don't wake up (for the first time in 150 nights) you are seriously concerned. i actually held my breath when i opened her bedroom door, because i was afraid of what i was going to find. when i saw her smiling face, and realized she made it through the whole night without interrupting my rest, i'm going to be honest...i loved her a little bit more. (sleep is a big deal, people.) anyway, i woke up fully rested on saturday...and felt pretty spectacular.

i also woke up and it kinda felt like christmas morning for another reason as well...i knew that it was going to be my "turn" to go out with the girls that evening. butch and i have to divide and conquer these days when it comes to weekend expeditions. babysitters are expensive, and even though we really just need a warm body in the house for a few hours after they are in bed...it's easier for one of us to just stay home. it's not ideal, but we know that this phase will pass and we'll be on to the next goofy parenting endeavour. truth is, we don't go out that much anymore...so when we do get "out" we really (really) enjoy it. anyway, fen invited us over for dinner that evening (with the kids) so after doing 237 loads of laundry, running, cleaning the house, washing my ass, and taking care of everything else that had to be done around the house...we went over to her humble abode. another one of our girlfriends was coming in from philadelphia, so we hung out and waited for her arrival. she came, we all ate dinner. (and sidebar...i made dinner. fen invited us over (for dinner), and i ended up making the whole pan of chicken divan. this is typical fen behavior.) at about 7pm i escorted butch and my offspring back to the house, helped him bathe them and put them to bed. gleefully i skipped out the door at about 8pm, with my go to black dress, side pony intact, and stars in my eyes.

when i arrived back to fen's (she lives around the corner), i grabbed another beer (i had about 2 by that point) and got crackalackin' on the nights mission. (hammertime.) the original plan was to go "downtown" to go out, which includes cab rides and such...so i wanted to pace myself at that point. while we were all standing around the island in her kitchen, our guest mentioned that she wanted to go to a local bar (in our town) and we all decided that would be a better option. it was at that point that i decided (at about 9pm) that i was going to double fist both red wine and beer. (one in each hand.) forget the pace car...i wanted to be the race car. i started getting wound up right before we went out, but i still had all of my motor skills intact and knew what was going on. the picture below was taken before going out. i (sorta) remember the ride to the bar, and (sorta) remember walking in there...sorta. i also need to mention that fen's roommate, a (male) navy corpsman decided to go out with us as well. (in hind sight, he probably regrets this decision.)

so we arrive at the bar and all order a round...on my credit card. (which would end up being the only round..) the bar we went to had a band, but they were on a break. this is when things start getting a little fuzzy. apparently, it was at this point that i started taking shots off of the waitress's trays and slamming them down my gullet...without paying for them. i do not do shots anymore...i left that behind with my twenties. liquor makes me wackout blackout drunk and i hate it. plus, it also gives me a wicked hangover as well...i have two children that wake up at the ass crack of dawn, i don't need to willingly give myself a wicked hangover. so anyway, back to the shots that i don't remember...it was shortly after this that i told the people that i was with that it was "time to go." (probably with some expletives thrown in there) they hadn't even finished their first drink yet and i was demanding that we all leave. this picture was taken shortly before our departure. (awesome.)

fen was behind the wheel (in her new car), and she knows from experience that when i hit the point of no return, it's time to exit the premises...or a shit show is going to ensue. (we left.) they all decided to go to wawa to get some (drunk food) subs, and technically it is on the way home...so they stopped. fen and our philly friend went into wawa and the corpsman and i were in the backseat of her car waiting for them to come out. it was at this point that i got the spins...and shit got serious. (i thought i might die.) instead, i opened the back door of her car...and fully unloaded no less than 3 gallons of beer, a 1/2 a box of wine, and chicken divan all over that parking lot. because of the wine and the chunks of chicken, it looked like a scene out of a horror movie. i also looked like a character from a horror movie as well....makeup smeared, tears running down my face, hair plastered to my cheek...it was ugly. the ladies skipped out of wawa and fen started freaking out when she saw the vomit. "THIS IS MY NEW CAR! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU! and...OH MY GOD! DO YOU EVEN CHEW YOUR FOOD!? THERE ARE WHOLE CHUNKS OF CHICKEN IN THERE." (dear god.) our other friend unwrapped her (stolen) sub (that was not her order) and began chowing down. apparently there was some sort of dressing on the sub and when this girl "eats" food (using the term loosely) while intoxicated, she owns the food. she owned (mutilated) that sub and shit was everywhere. dressing, lettuce, meat, cheese, you name it...was running down her arms and all over her face.

the navy corpsman was in the backseat just staring at all of this shit going on. here we are...three "grown" women, (it was only like 10:30, mind you) acting as if we are on some f'd up taping of idiots gone wild...and he's in the middle of it all. he wanted to go "out" with us and it ended up being for (half) a beer and a trip to wawa...including (but not limited to) puke, screaming, and a theft. (happy veterans day, buddy.) i don't really remember getting dropped off at home...however, i woke up at 4am, in (only) a tee shirt, no undergarments, my contacts still in my eyeballs, mascara smeared on my face, and puke still in my hair. i stumbled to the mirror and realized that i looked like a goddamn rape victim. i washed my face, took out my contacts, put on some godforsaken pants and walked downstairs to get a drink. i checked for my phone, keys, and credit cards and had that "thank god" moment when i saw all of them there...strewn all over the floor in front of the front door next to my boots and my black dress. (wow.)  it took a few days for all of the pieces of the puzzle to fit together. (and it's still not complete.) i looked at my online banking statement today and i had a tab of over $30 bucks at the bar...and i couldn't figure out how because even if i bought everyone a round, we were all drinking just beer. i texted the two ladies (if you can call them that) that i was out with and asked how this was possible...one replied, "hell if i know? maybe we paid extra for the roofies??" (i laughed my head off at that one.) fen said, "along with the shots you stole, you also bought everyone a round of red headed sluts!" (great decision.)

so long story short...i can be certain about a few things after this weekend. first off, my decision to leave behind shots in my twenties was a good one, i just need to make sure i follow through and not actually buy and/or steal them. secondly, i will be very surprised if if fen's roommate ever takes me seriously again after seeing me lose my shit all over the parking lot of wawa. (moreover, i think it's safe to say i will not be eating chicken divan anytime soon.) finally, if you go out for ladies night as a married mother of two....and you wake up looking like a rape victim, you probably can't handle going out in the first place. lesson learned.