Jul 27, 2011

Good Friends - Even If They Are Your Brothers Friends!

Two years ago I flew to California for a week of fun in celebration of my brothers retirement from 23 years of service in the United States Air Force. 

Each day of the festivities, mom and dad and I got up early to prepare the food for the days events.  Who am I kidding?  My mom and dad got up early while I slept in like a princess. 

The first night, as I was leaving my brothers house, making my trek across the field of Jack Rabbits to the apartment I was staying in, I was quite surprised at the bodies just passed out cold on his floor.  Everywhere.  Guy on this couch, wife upstairs in the spare bedroom.  Chick on the floor behind the couch and dude a few feet away.  Asleep, on the floor.  I guess the good thing is, they didn't drive.

The next day, I walk back over to his house, across Jack Rabbit field, in search of coffee and an aspirin for my pounding head. As I walk in the door, everyone is up, already laughing *and* playing the Wii while drinking their coffee.  Fuck.  It was going to be a very long week of drinking and laughing and one hell of a good time.

When I came home to Mississippi, I had several new friends.  It seemed a little lame at the time, but the old adage ran through my mind "a friend of my brothers is a friend of mine".  These people were genuine, kind and caring friends.  The support system these Military wife's and husbands have within each other is nothing short of amazing.  When your spouse is deployed, you can count on that support system.

Two years later, and one week ago, there was another retirement ceremony.  Now, I wasn't "officially invited", but because my brother and his wife were going to be 1900 miles closer than normal, and because I hadn't seen them in two years, I figured it was as good a time as any to crash that party. 

My first night there, I was privy to "recipe".  A kick-ass frozen concoction that once you've made it through your first solo cup full, you pronounce it "RES-IH-PEEEEE".  It's probably most advisable to remain standing during consumption so you can practice your balance as you make it through the drink that you actually eat with a spoon!  I made the mistake of sitting in the very comfortable bar stool that swivels.  Damn it if I didn't have to go to the bathroom shortly after.  That was an adventure!  You know you're drunk when you look in the mirror and say: "I'm not drunk".  You're doomed.

The night was young and my brother and sister in law were NOT slowing down.  I figured I'd better get a handle on things after my 3rd Sangria so I could drive back to the hotel.  I stopped drinking all together and just people watched.  I knew the next night was going to be even crazier too.  Lord help me!

Remember in College, when we went out to the club and drank the cheapest drink so we could get drunk the fastest?  Yep, that's how this night was.  And you know, when you're wasted off your ass, you're like the best damn dancer EVAH!  There was a D.J. There were spotlights AND a strobe light.  I danced my ass off.  And other people were so drunk, they were copying me.  So, drunk they told me I was a great dancer!  I can't help but die laughing when I think back to it.  What a great time we had. 

The best part?  I'm even closer to my brother and sister-in-law's friends now and I'm counting down the days to South Carolina next year. 

I feel another retirement crash coming!

Jul 25, 2011

TMI, But You Should Feel Sorry for Me for REAL

Who the hell gets sick when they're on vacation and then on TDY?

I do, that's who!

As you may have read yesterday, I went to St. Louis to visit my brother.  So, Wednesday through Saturday night was a little mommy play time.  I had a great time, once I got there.  Sunday, I drove from St. Louis to Murfreesboro, TN for a class that will end Thursday.

So, Sunday I'm headed to Tennessee.  Now, when I drive I like to get there.  No stopping.  No eating, just drive and get to where you're going.  About 40 miles into the drive I had to stop.  I felt like my bladder was going to explode! I stopped at some rinky dink truck stop and peed, ran back to the car and got back on the Interstate and cranked up the tunes.

30 minutes later, I sneezed and peed.

What the hell? I hadn't consumed enough liquids to be peeing this much.  And it was a high probability that I was dehydrated from all the alcohol consumed the previous days.  I pulled off the interstate and drove into the Sonic.  I was a little sleepy anyway.  Nothing like a little Mocha Java Chiller to light me up!  I popped the trunk and dug through my suitcase.

Imagine the look on the dudes face when I pulled some panties and a pair of shorts out of my suitcase and headed to the restroom which, by the way, didn't lock and the door handle was about to fall off.  I don't think I've ever peed and changed so quick in my life.  Yes, I peed again.  This time in the toilet. But, what felt like was going to be another bowl full, was nothing but about a teaspoon full.  And, Holy mother of God, it burned like hell coming out!

Son of a bitch, am I getting a bladder infection?  I wouldn't know, because I've never had one before.  I ignored the signs (I was complaining the night before from a little back pain, but I honestly thought it was my drunk dancing.  You know, you feel things the next day that you didn't before because that Crown and Coke goes down smooth and makes you feel warm all over!).  So, there was back pain, a dull throb in the hooch, fire like sensation when urinating.  What?  That's not normal?  I got back in my car and headed East.  I was bound and determined to make it all the way without stopping.

I made it!  About 3 hours later I was seriously doing the potty dance at the front desk while the cute boys at the check in desk looked at me all crazy like.  I didn't bother moving my car and headed straight up the elevator to my room, in the door and BAM! 

I peed my pants again.

Fuck. What the hell am I going to do now?  My suitcase is IN THE CAR!

But, you all know I'm a genius.  I see a bag on the back of my bathroom door.  When I peek inside, what do I find?  Jackpot, A BLOW DRYER!

Yes, I did.  And when I went downstairs an hour later, I said in my sweetest Southern Drawl, "Lord, I forgot my car was right in the way y'all, I hope I didn't cause any trouble!" And I slipped out the door to move my car.

Y'all, I'm about to die here today!  I got up 6 times to pee only to drip drop in the toilet and scream from pain.  My neighbors might think there's something fun going on in here but I can assure you there is NOT!  When my alarm goes off, I drag myself out of bed and get ready for class.  I can't even get in the door good before I'm like:

Oh sorry y'all I gotta pee.

For some reason there is assigned seating in this class since we are all from different parts of the US, so this way we can get to know each other.  Whatever.  Where is my seat?  In the fucking middle of the room!  And, what am I going to say to the instructor?

Look dude, I have a bladder infection which means I have to pee every ten minutes and hefty here next to me doesn't look like she wants to be bothered to move every time I have to leave the room.  You mind if I sit in the back?

No, I sucked it up and took my seat.

20 minutes in, I exit the room.  And again 20 minutes after that.  And again 20 minutes after that.  And you get the picture.  Except it didn't seem to bother the instructor or the gal sitting in the blasted way.  It bothered ME!

I finally couldn't stand it anymore and when I was brought to tears in the bathroom for the 80th time, I called my doctor back home and begged for some meds.

Now, my pee is the color Burnt Sienna, I hate Cranberry Juice but have enough of it in my hotel refrigerator to own stock in Ocean Spray, and I'm still in pain!

You can feel sorry for me now.  I just told you that I peed my pants twice in one day for Christ's Sake!

Jul 24, 2011

Hell Yes, I'm Burning my Bridges!!

I'm holding my breath. 

Squeezing the wheel.

My knuckles are white.

I'm Looking straight ahead, careful not to move my eyes an inch. 

Wishing just this once, my peripheral vision was broken.

My heart is racing.

There are beads of sweat on my forehead.

I close my eyes.  WAIT, I'm driving, I can't do that!

My legs being to feel numb.

Tears are streaming down my face.

I think I just peed a little.

Is it over yet?  No?  How about now?  Almost done?  Can I start breathing yet?  No? Why? Hurry Up! 

Please just get over this mother fucking bridge!

I cannot be the only human on the face of this earth that has the most ridiculously unreasonable fear of traveling over bridges.  Can I?  Seriously, I sometimes try and get out of going places that require me to travel over bridges.  What?  I have to cross a river, a lake, a fucking bayou?  Hell no, I'll stay home.

Of course, if it's the beach I'm traveling to, I'll go.  I have friends.  My friends have Xanax.  Xanax is good.

Guess what?  Wednesday AND TODAY, I didn't get to take that Xanax.  I WAS THE DRIVER AND ALONE. 

I decided I was going to see my brother and his wife since they were going to be in St. Louis for the week which, is 1800 miles closer to me than usual.  I can drive 600 miles to see them sure!  When my husband map quested my route for me he failed to mention that I had to travel over a damn bridge.  Had he NOT failed to mention it, I might have stayed my ass home, Not only have I traveled over one bridge but now, it's been THREE bridges, in THREE days, ALL ALONE!!  Not cool at all. 

It all started 22 years ago.  1989. The Loma Prieta Earthquake.  As a child, bridges never bothered me.  I lived in California and the Golden Gate bridge was traveled over by me at least a hundred times.  The bay bridge.  No big deal.  Really it wasn't a problem.  But when the earthquake hit there was so much devastation.  I wasn't anywhere close to the area that had the worst damage.  In fact, I lived 3 hours away.  I mean, we still felt it all the way up in the foothills but, it wasn't until the images of the devastation started pouring in over the Television and the magazines and the newspapers.  My Biology teacher was right in the middle of it.  Thank God, he was not injured.  However, I'm still a little pissed off that he decided he was going to come to class and give us major details of the heroic work he did to free so many people from their cars. 

Their smashed cars.

From the bridges, overpasses and stacked interstates they traveled across. In their cars.

The cars they all thought they were safe in.

It was graphic, and gory and so heartbreaking and scary that I literally haven't been the same since.  Because now I know, I'm going to die in a horrific crash, while traveling over a bridge.  I'll probably still be alive, at least a little bit, and then my car will go careening over the side of a bridge.  I wont have anything sharp in the my glove box so as to bust out my window because I have a car with electric windows and once the car hits the water the electricity will no longer be so god damn awesome because we're so lazy we can't roll our damn windows down so there I'll sit. Clinging to life with major injuries, and drowning because I can't get out of my car, somebody help me!

It's best if I'm not the driver when traveling over bridges.  And if you know that we have to travel over a bridge and I'm driving but, there's a chance that I don't know we are traveling over a bridge but you forget to tell me, I will pull over once across the bridge and punch you in your taco. 

Friends, it's very safe to assume that as a passenger when traveling across bridges, if I'm looking out the window, I've taken 5 Xanax or I'm completely drunk.  If I'm neither of the two then I probably have my head between my legs doing breathing exercises!

But, if I'm the one actually *driving* over the bridge, I'll probably be taking 5 Xanax AND getting drunk very shortly after!!