My friends Blondie and Hotpants did the whole Black Friday shopping thing last week.
This means that they woke up Friday morning before I had even gone to bed (considering I didn't go to bed until 3:00ish, that wasn't too difficult). They usually shop until 10:30 or so, then my girl Waffle and I drag our just-woke-up asses to meet them for "lunch". I say "lunch" because, in my world, anything eaten before noon is "breakfast", or at best "brunch".
So...since we met them at 10:45 for lunch at the mall, it makes perfect sense that we'd have three cocktails apiece before noon, right?
I should mention that both Blondie and Hotpants are real pistols to begin with. They regularly break into random songs, say inappropriate things to strangers, request sexual favors from strangers, talk too loudly and very often they spank people. So yeah, they're just like me.
On Black Fridays, however, they usually achieve a level of punchiness that would scare the bejeezus out of the uninitiated. They generally get coffee first, then while they're waiting in line at whatever store, they will begin prank-calling me and Waffle, generally starting about 4:00 in the morning. Usually some sort of hair-band song is involved, and this year the "blowing my nose" call was the featured act. It drives waffle nuts, but I LOVE these calls.
So...we're dealing with: 2 punch-drunk girls surving on no sleep and working on getting real-drunk; 1 sister of Blondie who puts up with all of us but still has that elusive quality called shame that the rest of us don't; Me, who had very little sleep, too much wine the previous night, and took half a muscle relaxer just for fun; and poor Waffle, our straight man/caretaker, who is a firecracker in her own way when we let her get a word in edgewise.
Once lunch was done and before our poor server had to kick us out for saying things like "finger-banging" and "butthole" and "twatmonkey" WAY too loudly and making pretty much everyone else there sorry that they didn't go to the Olive Garden, we decided to venture into the mall and get our shop on.
While we were wondering through Younkers (a Macy'sesque department store, FYI), Hotpants was looking at children's boots and laughed as she said that she didn't even know what size boots her two boys wear. This is totally acceptable as she has had a big plate of shit on her table lately, and the stress from what she's dealing with would make anyone a bit goofy.
But...being that we are the way we are, and that we know each other well enough to do such things, I LOUDLY piped up in the crowded store, "Well, you would probably know what size shoes your kids wore if you DIDN'T DRINK SO MUCH, YOU KNOW!"
Most people just tried to not make eye contact. A few shook their heads in that way Minnesotans do when they are secretly happy that we're not related to them.
A few minutes later as she was looking at blankets or something, I piped up, "Yeah, you would know if you needed a blanket if YOU WEREN'T SO DRUNK ALL THE TIME!"
When she commented on how much something cost, I bellowed, "If you DIDN'T SPEND ALL YOUR MONEY ON BOOZE, YOU COULD AFFORD TO BUY THAT FOR YOUR FAMILY."
I did this about 15 times, it never got old.
The best part was all the people not in on the joke, staring at their fellow shoppers, confused that they accidentally wandered into Wal-Mart somehow.
I love shopping.
Yesterday I had to take Bub's to the vet for his yearly shots. Since the reminder postcard I got said something about "fecal" or "stool", if I remember correctly (which I didn't), I assumed that they would need a fresh sample.
So, I saved Bub's stinky bag of joy from his morning constitutional. Double-bagged, such is the stink. When it was time to go, I put the bag in my purse. That's normal, right?
We walked to the vet (about 8 blocks away), and checked in. I thought it was odd that they didn't ask for the "sample", but I figured maybe the vet would. A few minutes later, Bubs got his shots, we chit-chatted a little, and then he said "see you in six months!" and walked out. Hmm.
I went out front to pay, and no mention was made of them needing the now-stinking through both bags and stinking up the waiting room bag of poo in my purse.
As I'm about to walk out, I decided to just ask. "Don't you need a stool sample?"
They looked at me blankly. "No we don't." was the answer.
I mumbled, "Oh, because I brought one, just in case."
"Um, ok. Bye!"
And I walked out the door with the festering bag of feces still in my purse. I wondered what people would think if I was hit by a car or something on the way home and they found this gem among my belongings. I would forever be the girl who carried dog shit around in her purse.
Gotta go now & get ready to go back to work today, my little stinky piles of drunky goodness. Happy Tuesday.