drunkenated fountain wrestling

ya know, that title really says… just about everything. but because anelle isn’t here today i’m going to blog the whole thing, every fuzzy detail. it was a beautiful wednesday evening when jess left work after everyone else. back at the ranch (wiggins) we settled in for some nice procrastinating. walk now? nah… how ‘bout now? naahhh… how ‘bout now? naaaahhhhhh… (just kidding with those last two, we really didn’t need to go past the first) ok, we’ll do pilates after “so you think you can dance.” fine, at least it’s some form of movement. little did i know that was a two hour (ish) show!! so the motivation twins glued themselves to the pillow-top mattress and watched as some of the most physically fit specimens of human contorted and gyrated in every which way for our pure entertainment value.

two bites of chicken and a small portion of tostidos hint of lime between the two of us = dinner

pilates, change, primp, jewel, venture to bar.

i still have no idea why the bar is so much more crowded on a wednesday night than any other night of the week! two drinks at home and um… i think two or three more at the bar and weez wuz wizasted! and bartender justin rocks. i love that we walk in and he won’t even let us order. a rum & diet and a redbull & vodka magically appear before us. ok so yethica’s dream evening involves having “guido chris” from the alter ego party show up and whisk her off her feet. and we turn around and there’s a glasses wearing non-guido chris standing at the bar. what’re the odds!?

so talking, cooing, hand holding, and for me-drinking later we hit up the fountain.

so i didn’t want to get my jeans wet. sue me! but once again i strip down on washington road to my skivvies and step on the first little shallow step. damn, that’s cold! ok, so i wander in up to my knees when.. i don’t even know how it happened, but chris was involved and most likely yethica was involved and there were hands flying, my feet kicking and bam! i’m on my ass in the fountain being pushed under. not cool. just plain not cool.

but karma prevails and… yup you guessed it kids, jess was swept off her feet by her hot yet dorky non-guido.............. and dunked screaming head first into 22 inches of water. all that red hair, soaked, sloppy, drippy.

tickling was involved, chris went under, i hit my head on the sculpture, and then we wrestled. not just pushy shovey splashy splashy but full on balls out, everything game, hard core, kick some ass fountain wrestling. ouch.

bruised, battered (but baked, not fried) and missing large chunks of flesh we teeter on home. again, a no pants soaked, drenched, sloppy walk home.

back at the ranch-
we all strip down as i pass out the towels and we attempt to dry our smelly fountain waterlogged bodies. um, here’s where things get really fuzzy. i don’t remember drinking more, but i remember making drinks. and the glasses scattered around the apt are a good clue that more drinking had occurred. then bed. yup. 3 damp, towel wearing obnoxious sloppy wizasted kids pass the ef out, but not for long!

worst night sleep ever!

i have no idea what time any of this happened but we woke up… i think all three of us did, re adjusted (me with my tiny little sliver-o-bed) and then began to beat on each other, again. kicking, tickling, loin cloth grabbing, name calling, verbal abusing, bad picture taking, more drinking. i do believe i tried to drink some gatorade and sat up in bed to drink it, but somehow poured it over my head and got my hair all sticky sloppy, vodka-ed up. yes, i was desperado and put vodka in gatorade. (for js- vodka’s good for your hair!!!) hey, at least it wasn’t tequila! but admit it, you gotta be in pretty bad shape to miss your mouth by that much.

then at like 5ishness yethica and chris decide to leave. woo hoo, the bed to maaaaiiiiiii self! but crazy beech can’t find her credit card or drivers license and stupid beech picks up the phone. hunny cakes, we have to go to work in the morning and i think i’m still drubk! i look around the apt. nothing. so stop telling me this story! there’s nothing more i can do! she calls again, she wants to come over. fine! i don’t care, come over all you want. look all you want. i neeeeeeeeed sleep. just don’t talk to me. she comes in. she needs hugo. she needs the power cord, she needs to wake him up but can’t. ef off beech! i just wanna go back to bed and deal with this shit in the morning! she makes phone calls while sitting on the edge of my bed, is that really necessary! get out! she needs a pen and paper, just effin look around! if i wasn’t so drunkenatedly passed out i woulda been more homicidal. finally she cancels the card and goes home (a full hour later). then calls me again! this time stupid beech doesn’t pick up. go me! it’s now 7am.

at 8am i hear the strangest most frightening noises i’ve ever heard. and they’re not far away. they’re wicked close! they’re under my bed!!! someone is drilling, hammering, drilling, and sawing, under my bed!!! i’m gonna die! was my first thought. then, they’re gonna die! was a close second. the mother-effers were putting in the washer/dryer and my obnoxious beech of a landlord/lady never bothered to drop me a line. just a note, the floor structure includes a finished floor (about a half inch to five eighths thick) over a sub-floor (about half inch thick) over joists which are open to below! no plaster, no insulation, no drywall to muffle the noise, i hear every word of someone flippin whispering down there, and they’re drilling!!!

two discontinuous hours of sleep should be enough for the day, right? useless. i am totally and utterly useless.

did i miss anything? most likely.