The Perils of Partying or How to put your foot in it

I haven't written in a couple of days, for good reason. There has been a whirlwind of activity in my life and I have just simply not had time to write (boo hoo). Good Friday being a beautiful day just called to me to go and work in the gardens. It is great to get out and get started on the arduous task of cleaning up after the winter season. Here on the hill it gets very windy and blustery, tree limbs are a common casualty. Dog poop is rampant, and repulsive, although most of it is in the process of white decay and mummification, easier to pick up that way. I am now sporting a bright red, raw circle on the inside of my right thumb... why hasn't anyone invented a gardening glove with just the right amount of padding to prevent the proverbial blister? I think that with all the technology available in the design department it would be a cinch... but maybe the task of raking has lost its appeal in the gardening world now that those leaf blowers are available to the general public via Canadian Tire? So that was my Friday, laborious but enjoyable, painful but productive. So on to Saturday. After fulfilling my work contract ( 2 hours) I partook in hot beverage festivities with my best friend C. We had our customary giggles and serious thoughts on the trials of life and all that it entails. We then meandered down the street to a local shop to have a look 'round. C was interested in a lamp in the window but due to the exorbitant price she passed it by. I however found two lovely en toile french mugs that I just had to have. They are up in the china hutch as I write. I love them. Saturday night was to be an evening of joviality and of new memory making with friends. There were six of us, three couples. First, we went to dinner at a restaurant, at which I am yet to have a good meal. I was the D.D. (designated driver) for the evening so the others would not have to worry about how much they drank or how they would get home. The waitress came to take our drinks order, everyone ordered their beverage of choice, when it came to my turn I declined saying that I was fine. The waitress then asked me if I wanted a glass of water to which I replied "No thanks, your water is terrible" the waitress acquiesced saying that she hated the taste of the restaurants water too (from its own well). Not a good selling feature for the restaurant when the waitress agrees with you. The meal came, I took most of mine home for the dogs (they'll eat anything), the others ate theirs with little complaint. I mean really, how hard is it too get the order of mashed potatoes with gravy correct? Why did I have to ask for the gravy a second time? Why is that when they used bagged salad it comes all limp? Do they not know to refresh under cold water? I should have been a food critic, I could have had an illustrious career as a poison penner... hmmm... is it too late? or am I already fulfilling this quest without really realizing the impact? So on to the rest of the night. Like I said earlier I love my van, but I have to tell you that it sure drives differently with an extra 900 pounds in it. I had all the seat belts filled, so that is seven passengers ( a couple of them on the large scale of life). After an uneventful journey to the location of the buck and doe ( it is a fund raiser for a couple getting married, the buck is the groom and the doe is the bride) I could smell the brakes a testament to how hard they worked with all the extra weight. I have been to many of these fundraisers, at most of them I have known at least one of the marital party, but in this case I knew neither, but any excuse for a party (er, fundraiser)in my books. The group that I was with was ready to party, having had a head start on the liquor parade at home, restaurant and pick up point. I like going out and partying, I just don't like the loud music. Why the hell do they have to play the music at such a level that it makes the water in my water bottle vibrate? Really, most people just want to talk and have fun, the music is just a ruse, used by drunken women to give them an excuse to go and make a gyrating fool of themselves in a room full of strangers who are also drunk and just looking for the show of drunken women making a fool of themselves. Honestly, no-one in their sober minds would behave like that. Anyway, I being the D.D was saved (this time) of having to participate in the mating dance of the inebriated (like I said this time, doesn't mean I haven't done it in the past). Funny how when you are drunk you suddenly feel like you are the best dancer on the planet, when that presumption could not be further from the truth (or sober reality). I had two dances last night, one with Ruffel and one with the mechanic who fixed my van. I am the worst dancer on the planet, and I am not afraid to admit that. I have no sense of rhythm (except my own) and always try to lead. The mechanic kept reminding me that he was to lead, not me, to which I responded " dancing is just like life to me, I am always trying to be in control" yeah, I think I will stick to drinking and dancing, 'cause when I drink my mouth doesn't work so well and I will save myself from sounding like a dolt. Who the hell talks about controlling their life when they are dancing? The mechanic then went on to say that I had a beautiful smile, I said thanks so did he. He opened his mouth wide and said "I have been working on my teeth for a couple of years" so I say " are they all your own?" ARGH!!! why does my mouth work faster than my brain? At this point the trays of jell-o shooters start to make their way around the room. You know, those little medicine cups with jello and vodka mixed together, except this time they had them in syringes as well... BRILLIANT! So much easier to just open up and squirt away, rather than trying to wrap your tongue around the inside of those little cups... although I think some people would find that act erotic... I guess the syringes could be akin to the same method of thinking. Hmmm, well, I prefer the syringes, so much easier to manipulate, one big gush and its over. It was only about 10cc's of jello so nothing that was going to do you in, although I did have five, but that was hours before I drove everyone home. See that's the thing when you are the D.D. and watching people as they sink deeper into the pool of toxicity. You realize that you are the only sane person in the whole room and yet you are the only one not laughing your head off at every little quip that comes out of peoples mouths. I give you this example. I have lost a lot of weight and it shows. It shows because I make a point of wearing things that show just this fact. I spent most of my adult life in the moo moo section of ladies wear and dammit I am going to enjoy the last half of my adult life in the juniorish section (well, in at least the single digit size section of cool ladies wear). Many of the people that know me have not seen me for quite some time (winter is long and arduous here in the tundra north) so many were taken aback by my new appearance. Now, here is a prime reason that when you are drinking you really should not try to speak philosophically or even try to sound intelligent. I am standing with my little cluster of friends ( you never sit down at these things, instead you stand for the solid 5 1/2 hours, intercepted only by the drunken show of mating dance dancing) when a woman approaches me and says "god Cat you look fabulous, you look at least ten years younger, like, you look like you are 32! man you just look so great" and gives me the double thumbs up. I had no idea who this woman was but I hugged her and told her I loved her... 32... shit I am hanging onto that compliment forever! Then after a little while I realized that she was quite drunk and was probably looking at three of me when she passed on the compliment. Oh but it gets better, a woman who I have never met before but again seems to know me, says, "wow, Cat you look great. Wendy ( aha) told me what you had done (surgery wise), good for you. But I have to ask you, what about your bowel movements?" WHAT! Why didn't you just ask me if those were my own teeth? I took great pleasure in the thought that I wasn't the only one who says ridiculous things, but, sad at the fact that I manage to say my things while sober, at least the other women had the excuse of alcohol consumption... although I did have those five syringes, would they count? I guess these two women had filled their glasses a few too many times at the fountain of liquid courage... also know as the bar, so this is why they said these things to me. The compliments I love, so to the one woman I say "belly up and reload" as many times as you want. To the other woman I offer this piece of advice, if you are drunk and you ask someone about their bowel movements chances are you are too shit faced to be talking about bodily functions... just stick to the mating dance of the inebriated it will get you further down the trail of happy time than just talking shit.
Looking for redemption,
Cat x