After raising my white flag to the fire whisperer, which appears to be the only flag I have (making it extremely awkward when I need to raise a red flag as a warning and surrender by accident), I knew it was time to take hold of my weekend.
(If you are new to my blog and want to know about the fire whisperer See Post: Kisses Here and There)
I spent all day Saturday shopping with my friend Andy, pretending we were a couple when the store clerk pressured us to sign up for a credit card.
“Babe, we have one too many credit cards already. I just don’t think you can handle the responsibility.” I said as the clerk looked at us disappointingly, not only because of our credit card denial but also out of jealousy for the red hott love I had just created.
“She’s the boss.” said Andy with a shrug of his shoulders and not even the slightest hint of a smile.
“Only in the bedroom.” I replied casually as the store clerk progressively got more annoyed.
Andy really doesn’t need any more credit cards…just sayin’.
After my shopping excursion with Andy, I received a terrifying phone call from my best friend Julie. I could tell she had been crying, which may not seem like a big deal but let me put it into perspective for you.
One drop of milk is spilled: I am bawling my eyes out. What has the world come to?! It’s like my dog has died, someone put bubblegum at the roots of my every hair and all 5 of my boyfriends dumped me on a conference call.
A small enclosed room with no means for escape is quickly filling up with milk around Julie and no one can hear her screams: Julie has a stone cold expression on her face because she has physically removed her own tear ducts.
Julie does not cry. I have been friends with Julie for over 5 years now and have only seen her cry maybe once or twice and she did not make a habit of it. Sensing that this was a bad situation, I knew we needed to see each other immediately.
After Julie explained her cry-worth situation, we headed to the bar where all cry-worthy situations must be handled effectively. We sat in silence for a while as we people watched near the entrance from the patio to the bar.
Finally, a cute redheaded girl comes walking through and I can tell Julie has taken notice of her cuteness, which I don’t find cute at all, here’s why…
Me: She’s friends with the NB (Never Boyfriend).
Julie: I hate her necklace.
This is why we are best friends. As I have told you once and will tell you again, friends that hate together stay together.
Despite my desperate and pathetic attempts at cheering her up, Julie was drinking two beers per my one and I knew there were multiple causes for concern. Leah later met up with us at the bar and unfortunately fell just short of birthday attention from across the picnic table because I had a very teary eyed, drunk Julie by my side.
To add to this mess, I had decided to take a chance on Chance (on chance on Chance on chance on Chance…) who is supposed to be meeting me at the bar that night. I had scouted out his location but…When exactly is the right time to leave alone one best friend who’s crying and another best friend who’s celebrating a birthday alone?
A question I still cannot answer.
I found what I considered to be a decent time to escape and introduce myself. Despite being nice, genuine and chatty, I found myself peaking over his shoulder to check on my table repeatedly during our conversation. Understanding the plight of an overtime-working friend, he released me to check on my friends.
Separated for a half hour or so, which I used to send my exhausted, drunk friends home, I met back up with him later to continue talking because believe it or not…I was kind of into it.
Unfortunately, I got stuck into a conversation about Pearl Jam with one of my roommate’s friends who is most obviously my skeeze of the day. I had no time for pearls and jams when I was trying to…you guessed it…take a chance on Chance.
I went home feeling defeated. I was still very mad at myself from the night before. I had not cheered Julie up. I had not given Leah a very fun birthday weekend. I had not given Chance the best chance. To top it all off, nothing was topped off because I was still sober.
The next day I ordered a pizza and then practically harassed the delivery guy asking him why the pizza was mad at the root beer and if Rosa Parks were here would the root beer get to sit in the front seat with the pizza?
I am certain he thought I was crazy.