Could it be? Is it true?

Have I actually sat down to right more on the subject of TowelGirl?

Or maybe I'm just going to make more excuses for not writing more often.

In all honesty I believed that I was going to get the rest of this little ditty of a story down the next day.

And to that I utter a great big: HA.

It's been like, a bajillion days.

Let's hope I can remember the remainder of the story.

Ok. So. Where were we.

Right.

TowelGirl, the main character of this delightful tale, had just dragged me up the trail to the cabin.

Fortunately everyone was close behind and were able to stop her from going inside. You see, by now she had quite the collection of pine needles and dirt caked on her feet and legs. And apparently a cut on her foot as well that was not quite gushing but certainly needed tending to.

And don't ask me where her shoes were. This was not a literary slip on my part.

I simply do not know.

In fact, it wasn't until just now that I realized she didn't have shoes.

She either wandered down without any. Which I wouldn't put past a drunk. Who needs shoes right?

Or they're at the bottom of the lake as we speak.

Ok, so.

We towel her off outside the front door. At least to a tolerable degree so we can rush her inside to the shower.

Of which she had no interest in. Naturally.

The girl takes 3 showers a day, and NOW she's choosing to abstain?

(rather than constantly mention this in the text I would like to just tell you to assume, at all times, I am thinking "need more wine, need more wine" over and over again. I mean, clearly. Duh.)

(except, that is, when I'm thinking "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you" over and over again)

(but you probably were already assuming that)

I finally convinced her that she must be freezing from her totally at-will, sober, and weeeee-fun, dip in the lake. That the shower would warm her up and she would thank me. I steered her into the bathroom, so she would stop bleeding on the expensively new Berber carpet, where lil' sis had already started the shower, and we tried to get her undressed.

Oh, and there came back the delightful belligerence. With a dash of modesty.

"yoooooou guuuuuuuyz...I can take caaaare of myshelllf. Shheeriously guuuuuuuyz, I don't neeeed your help"

And she pushed us out the door.

Ok fine. Shower your damn self.

Figuring that the BestFriend and lil' sis had things under control, I went upstairs to TowelGirl's room to look for a fresh set of clean clothes.

And I realize now that finding "clean" or even reasonable "fresh" clothes was a foolish thought. But at the time I assumed she must have had SOME clean clothes considering she had been using the laundry equipment all weekend long.

Oh yes, another one of her "quirks". She apparently felt right at home enough to wash her clothes over and over again. In the laundry room (which doubles as the 2nd bathroom) that has NO ventilation.

To make this absolutely clear: laundry/bathroom = sauna.

What I found in her room cleared a WHOLE lot up for me. Up until this point I was giving TowelGirl the benefit of the doubt. She drank too much. No big deal. She wasn't handling it well. But so what - I wasn't going to lump her in with Liza Minelli right off the bat.

And then I found her backpack. Which, by the way, was the ONLY item she had brought with her. She had packed all she needed for a 3-day weekend in an average sized school-grade backpack.

Which again, not entirely that odd. I might pull that off if I really needed to. But you'd better have a good reason. And you know what, better yet - don't invite me somewhere if I'm limited to just one small backpack. k?

And obviously she had the toothbrush and towel gnomes to see to her hygeinic needs...

Where was I? Oh right. I made no real judgments on TowelGirl's state up until then.

But then I took inventory of her backpack.

- 1 sketchbook (artist...or should I say "artist")
- 1 t-shirt
- 1 pair light-weight pants
- 1 sandwich, made with perishable ingredients - none of which available in our fridge (brought from home?)
- 1 baggie crammed full of some pastries we had made earlier that day
- 1 calistoga water bottle filled with a cranberry juice colored liquid (upon sniffing contents - the cranberry juice was NOT alone)
- 3 empty beer bottles
- 1 Liter of Gin...missing, like, 3/4 of the bottle

Hooookay. Drinking in private. Somewhat of an indication we were dealing with a drunk. A drunk who is worried she will be stranded with no food. And who has no concern for refridgerating food that is prone to food-born bacteria.

I grabbed the t-shirt and pants and brought them downstairs. I found lil's sis in the hall outside the bathroom waiting for TowelGirl to finish her shower.

She finally finished and we found that she had managed to, yes! shower fully clothed.

Excellent! This is why we let drunk people shower unsupervised. It's fun. And makes for good stories later.

Lil' sis produced the "clean" clothes and TowelGirl proceeded to put them on over her soaking wet lake-swimming ensemble.

Again, she was feeling modest. Nevermind she was in the midst of an evening-long humiliation. So what's the best thing to do? Put your clothes on OVER your existing soaking wet clothes.

Because this totally solves the problem.

Well at least she's now drenched in warm shower water instead of cold lake water.

And then there was the brilliant chatter she subjected us to. A wonderful combination of outward anger towards us and self-hatred introverted drunken banter.

If you recall from the previous installment of this story...you know, the one I wrote, like, a bajillion days ago...TowelGirl is notorious for her constant string of commentary. When she is drunk she does not fail to produce. Only this time it's a constant string of how silly we're being, and how she can take care of herself, and no she's not drunk, and why can't we just leave her alone?

We pulled her into the kitchen, on the nice tile floor (in other words: easy to clean should more bleeding continue, or say, vomiting suddenly commence), and sat her down on the floor to address the wounds she incurred when falling in the lake.

And boy oh boy did I want to inflict some more of my own.

We put a bandaid on the cut she had on her foot which we discerned was minor. I put an icepack on her shin which was now growing a nice big goose-egg of a bump.

I claimed a nice bit of satisfaction knowing how much that was going to hurt in the morning.

By now my Husband wandered over to survey things. Up until now he had smartly stayed out of the way.

Husband: How's the patient.

Me: I don't really give a shit - get me more wine.

Husband: Right.

Being the dutiful husband that he is, he swiftly supplied me with the best tasting wine ever.

Now that I had a glass of wine, I felt a little more at ease to talk with TowelGirl while we iced her leg.

She blubbered a bunch of things about her Dad dying of some sort of Cancer and her mother having Multiple sclerosis. She continued on about how she's about to loose her job (at Pete's coffee, ahem) and how she's a failure and life sucks.

Ok.

Right about then I was considering that it was a great time to start charging by the hour.

Fortunately for all of us TowelGirl's eyelids started to get heavy and we thought it might be best to move her to the couch where she could crash out for the night. We felt moving her upstairs was a bit optimistic on our part.

We spread out a pile of towels to keep the couch dry, pushed her down and within a couple minutes she was sound asleep. Off in little drunken dreamland.

Oh man can I be long-winded.

I really thought I could wrap this all up in one more entry.

But, um, don't hate me.

Oh god - you're totally going to hate me.

I'm going to have to leave the rest for another time.

(insert nervous laughter here)

Seriously - I mean it! I'll wrap it all up nice and tidy next time!

And next time won't be, like, forever from now. Maybe. (more nervous laughter)

Hello? Is this thing on?

Sooooo...

How's it going?

Uhhhh. Heh heh.

Like, um, don't hate me.

Seriously, I'm not avoiding you. I'm not skirting around finishing up the TowelGirl story. I don't have an agenda - I'm not trying to cause any distress or annoyance.

I've just been, well preoccupied.

It's just that, well, my job...it's like...time consuming now.

Shit, well that makes me sound like I normally don't do crap.

More so than usual ok!

And I sort of made a promise to myself that I would never mention work here because I don't want to become one of those poor unsuspecting bloggers who were sacked for mentioning they even had a job and where said job was.

Even though I doubt my employers would be so lame.

But that would be an ignorant assumption. And making ignorant assumptions leads to...well...assuming ignorant things.

Or something.

So let's just say, if I HAD a job (which I'm neither confirming nor denying), that it has become rather time consuming of late.

And even though it may be time consuming - it's totally exciting, and things are changing. And if I had this supposed job where things are exciting and changing, I might be really consumed during work hours, and utterly exhausted mentally upon getting home in the evenings.

If I were employed that is.

Which I'm not saying one way or the other. Or by whom.

So I just wanted to write this note. Which is totally not during working hours by the way.

IF I had a job.

And that job had "normal working hours".

I'm still alive, and well. And maybe tomorrow I will write the final chapter to my two-part story of TowelGirl - Drunk Extraordinaire!

Does two parts of a story necessitate chapters? What would be the minimum?

Why am I worried about this?

Ok peeps...

So here's the poop:

I am a bad BAD blogger.

I write this story about TowelGirl and then I drop off the face of the planet without crafting the next and final (oh god I hope) installment of the story.

And THEN?

I realize I will not be poised diligently in front of the computer for three more days because I will be in training for work.

And to that I exhale a rather large "BLAH".

Now there is a slight possibility I will find myself inspired to sit and blog. And god knows I owe all my adoring fans.

(I have, like, 2 now)

(swear!)

(no, seriously)

(would I lie?)

(ok, yes, maybe if it meant stroking my ego and to make myself feel like I actually write and someone actually cares to read)

(but I'm pretty sure that both my mom and husband read this with some slight regularity. So there! Husband + mom = 2 fans!)

And now that I have spent, like, 5 minutes writing this "quick" little note to all of you when I could have actually worked on the next installment.

But whatever.

I'm not feeling inspired to write about that right now. I claim creative license. Which pretty much allows me to develop weird and annoying habits and I can chalk it all up to my being creative and artistic. I use the words "creative" and "artistic" loosely.

Anyway. Where was I?

Oh yes - so there IS a slight possibility I may write something sooner. But then again there's all this great stuff on tv this week like the season finale of Rescue Me (Oh joy!) and the season premiere of Gilmore Girls.

So by the time I get home from hauling myself back and forth from San Francisco to San Jose during shitty rush hour...I may just sit on my ass, drink wine (obviously), and watch smut-tv.

Because I am so all about the smut-tv.

So we'll just have to see.

There is no title that aptly describes this...

So sorry to drop that little juicy teaser yesterday morning and not elaborate further. But I promise, I was only looking out for my adoring fans. If I had gone into further detail given my state at the time the story would have resembled literary vomit.

So!

About that drunken debacle.

The weekend started out innocently enough. The BestFriend, The Husband, and I had headed up to Donner Lake for a weekend of rest, relaxation, and apparently babysitting. Only there were no babies in sight. Just full grown adults.

THAT ACT LIKE LITTLE TODDLERS.

The BestFriend's little sister came along with a few friends in tow. Bless her heart, she meant well. She invited these people along for some fun. But one of these friends has "issues". Issues that failed to go unnoticed until now because lil' sis has only known this "friend" for maybe a month or two.

Hell, I probably know the guy at the front desk of Gold's gym better.

At first we just started noticing little things that we chronicled as "odd". For example, apparently she thought that the only towel in the bathroom she was sharing with 3 other people was specifically meant for her. Nevermind that she had been instructed to bring her own towels. That fresh clean towel was left there. For her. By the towel gnomes.

Apparently.

It's not like it was my BestFriend's towel or anything. The gnomes left it there for her.

And what a relationship she had with this towel. All weekend long she dragged it around. Down to the lake. Into the dining room. It spent some time in each bathroom. She liked to carry it on her shoulder as she walked around.

Busy towel.

And yet she never seemed clean.

Another weird thing considering she probably took 3 showers a day.

We have since determined that she probably doesn't know how to use soap or shampoo. She didn't bring any for one. Come to think of it, a toothbrush and deodorant were missing from the bathroom as well.

Perhaps she has toothbrush gnomes that come in the night and take care of that for her?

Good lord this girl was strange.

We tried to ignore her most of the time. She just kind of came and went. With a string of constant commentary.

Yea. She couldn't shut up either. And she found everything "fascinating!" and "awesome!". Oh yes, the world is just one big fascinatingly awesome place.

I realize now that hindsight is most definitely 20/20. The events I am about to unfold cleared a lot up for us. Had we been more on our toes we might have seen it coming. But again, that whole damn hindsight thing.

Our last night at the cabin pretty much encompassed all the usual nefarious activities the previous evenings entailed.

In short: drinking.

We make no excuses. We hide nothing. We are not ashamed. We drink. Vacation: drink.

Plain and simple.

And we cook. But that's really of no concern.

So we started out the evening with a ginormous jug of Sangria. Yes, a jug.






Just in case we're unclear:





Only in this pic the bottle is totally empty.

And it's like only 9pm.

Clear now?








And then we moved on to Blue kamikazes...

And I was JUST about to move on to cracking open a bottle of white wine when it occurred to us that TowelGirl was missing.

Like we really cared.

But you know. It's kind of a good idea to keep a tab on things. Especially when we're, like, the "responsible adults".

Heh.

And that's when our attention was drawn to the dock down at the lake.

TowelGirl was down there hanging out. Probably smoking a cigarette.

So what do we do?

The only clear thing to do when you've just help down over 3 Liters of wine.

We all started to yell "JUMP!"

I should stop here and probably make it known that we were not really that trashed. Sure we had a lot to drink. But we ARE professionals here. Not only do we have decent tolerances...

We started drinking at, like, 4pm.

By this point in time we're all standing on the deck yelling down to the lake. It's dark, we can't see her.

TowelGirl: "should I?"

Again, that whole hindsight thing? Sigh.

We all shout back: "YEEEEEEAAAAA!"

TowelGirl: "I totally will if you bring down my towel!"

BestFriend (says to me): That's MY towel. Bitch.

So we all start wondering down to the dock in the dark. And it's all calm and nice out. The BestFriend and I lie on our backs and check out the Milky Way. TowelGirl didn't seem all that drunk so we weren't really concerned she was going to jump in.

And yes, by this point it HAD occurred to us that TowelGirl + Booze + JumpingInLake = BAD

But we didn't really think it was going to happen until she actually did.

And again, STILL not worried because it's not like she FELL in. And we WERE, you know, kind of, ahem, coaxing her to do it.

And then she started being a pain about getting out. And the words coming out of her mouth appeared to be slurred.

And then the belligerence started.

And then my nice wine high obliterated.

Dumb bitch.

We knew we had to get her out of the water (useful info: lake was 66 degrees). And we knew it was going to be a lame, annoying, and overall stupid experience.

After much cajoling and affirming that we did not in fact think she was trashed, and yes we knew she could swim just fine, and no we were not patronizing her...we finally got her back on to the dock and wrapped in "her" towel.

And everyone started walking back up the trail to the cabin.

And she fell in. With "her" towel.

Up until this point I actually thought (foolishly yes) that we could make it up to the cabin, and proceed with the rest of our bingefest. We had more wine and Sex and the City on DVD planned. I NEEDED to believe we were going to make it back with little intervention.

And there she was in the lake again. Yelling "I'm fiiiiiiiiiine you guys...it's noooooo big deeeeal". So we drag her heavy, water-laden, ass out of the lake again. Yea, did I remind you that she's a big girl?

Yea.

Big.

How we were actually managing to haul her out is beyond me.

And lil' sis even managed to wade in and find the damn towel too.

And then...can you guess?

Yeeeeeaaaaaa...into the lake again!

Weeeeeeee, this is fun! It's like a game!

Only this time she fell in on the OTHER side of the dock. The shallow side to be more specific. The side with the big slippery rocks.

Any shred of alcohol still numbing our senses was now permanently gone as we stood there looking at her, clearly stunned from the fall, and not standing up. Fortunately she was ok because she eventually did stand. And we lugged her back on to the dock. Did I mention how FUN this was?

Yea. Weeeeee, fun.

And I dragged her onto the dirt AWAY from the water. And then the belligerence came again.

And all the while I'm thinking "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you" over and over again. And she's being snotty and yelling "YOU GUYS I'M SO NOT DRUNK!" in a *you assholes how dare you* tone of voice.

I could have kicked her. Only I wanted a glass of wine and some Sex and the City and the only way I was going to get that was if she would just drag her fat, towel obsessed ass, up to the cabin.

I finally had to convince her that I was cold and drunk and needed HER to help me up the trail into the cabin. She quickly stopped staggering and nearly falling into the bushes, and then grabbed me around the waist with superhuman strength and hauled me up the trail.

And I'm going to get the rest of the story down later.

This is already so long I'm worried I've lost all your attention and that no one has actually read this far.

Hello?

Is anyone there?

Oh yea, that and I have work. Or some shit like that.

Man, I am just one big tease!

So now I'm "it"

Seven things I plan to do before I die:
1. Finally make it to Disneyland. Seriously. No, I'm not kidding.
2. Procreate
3. Own a Bengal cat.
4. Figure out what the hell it is I want to be when I grow up. Suggestions are welcome.
5. Build a house from the ground up.
6. Retire.
7. Travel more. I know I know - I'm SO original.
Seven things I can do:
1. Gut a fish. It's totally icky.
2. Wield a jackhammer among other scary power tools.
3. Avoid knitting projects quite effectively. Even though I enjoy knitting. Go figure.
4. Drink caffeinated beverages right before bed. I'm wide awake right about until I decide it's time to sleep.
5. Make a mean cornbread.
6. Produce a flame from a Bic lighter using my index finger instead of my thumb. Go me! You try it OK!? It's NOT easy. Whatever.
7. Fix the copier at work. No one else is capable apparently. Maybe I should go work for Xerox. Oh! Maybe THAT'S what I can do when I grow up!
Seven things I cannot do:
1. Sew worth a damn. I can use a sewing machine yes. But it's not pretty and does not usually involve straight lines.
2. Voluntarily touch a spider. Or go near one for that matter. Within 5 feet? Too cozy for me. Spiders deserve their space. (shudder)
3. Jump off, out of, or from anything that is at an extreme height (i.e: more than 5...make that 3 feet). I don't care what kind of fancy contraption you strap to me. Forget it, uh uh, nope, absolutely not gonna happen.
4. Figure out what the hell I want to be when I grow up. Apparently I have to figure this out before I die. I hear being a copier repair person is rewarding.
5. Get excited about going to meetings. They suck the life out of me. Slowly.
6. Figure out if this guy is for real or not.
7. Get this damn song out of my head. Incidentally sung by the guy from the previous line item.
Seven things that attract me to the opposite sex:
1. Sense of humor
2. Having his shit together
3. Nice ass
4. Someone who actually laughs (I have dated a laughless breed. It sucked. 5 years of thinking I had NO sense of humor. And maybe I don't - but at least my husband humors me!)
5. Expansive intelligence (I like a good combo of both useful and useless knowledge)
6. Motivation
7. Hands. Big strong hands.
Seven things I say most often:
1. "Seriously!"
2. "Shut up!
3. "You know what I was just thinking?" (this usually scares my husband)
4. "What the HELL?"
5. "Lame."
6. "Huh?"
7. "You can find me under my desk taking a nap."
Seven celebrity crushes:
1. Heath Ledger (oh. my. god.)
2. Joseph Fiennes (I will forgive him the tights - it was Shakespeare after all)
3. Russell Crowe (again: oh. my. god.)
4. Zach Braff
5. Joaquin Phoenix (although his incestuous behavior in Gladiator sort of weirded me out. I don't care if your sister is hot. Nor do I care that it's during the Roman Empire. It's just not cool.)
6. John Stewart
7. Shane West

I'd say I caught my limit this weekend

I am so hung over from this weekend.

And I don't mean that in a waaaaahooooooooooooo! we drank too much, stayed up to late, and partied hearty sort of way.

I mean that in a grrrrrroooooooaaaaaan...we drank too much, stayed up late, and fished wagon-abandoning drunken alcoholics out of the lake and tried to prevent death and mayhem sort of way.

Well, there was actually only one alcoholic we went fishing for. But that was one more than I had planned on.

And boy was she a charmer.

And she weighed a lot.

A lot.

Seriously.

But I will return to this story later. Because I suck. And because my brain is SO not working right at the moment.

Working right for ME ok?

I am going to return to my cup of coffee and maybe tackle one of these things I've been tagged with. I'll get back to this delightful topic later. When I'm not busy resting my head on my keyboard. Just for one second...

You know what would be so nice right about now? My bed. Oh yes. With the softness. And the warm comfortingness. Can't forget the pillows...the soft cushy pillows...