It’s hour 10 of the iPhone release day. I haven’t dared to leave the house or even take a shower. I pee with the door open (admittedly I do that anyway- with 3 kids under 5 it’s a matter of survival.) I’m waiting as the minutes and hours tick by. The anticipation of hearing that knock on the door- knowing a smiling FedEx delivery person will be there to greet me- ever increasing.
I am a dutiful wife. I wait not for my own iPhone 5- but for my husband’s. It’s a responsibility I am proud to take on. It’s not like I had plans today or errands to run or chocolate to stock up on. I’m relegated to online window shopping, denied the satisfaction of wandering the aisles of stores.
You owe me one, Babe.
If there was ever a question whether I would turn tail on the cars and plaid and football threads in favor of tutus and bows and sparkle it has been answered.
There is an undeniable and also bizarre allure to glittery pink frills but I’ve certainly stayed true to my boy-mom roots. I’m still a sucker for bugs and sports and camping themed boys apparel.
That and I am ashamed to admit during this seasonal clothing swap I discovered that each of the boys have more clothing than I do.
Hey, babe, I need to go shopping for myself. Cool?
We are at the beach this weekend.
My husband, father and brother (playing from LA) were planning a Friday night video game session. So my mom and I decided to go out for a drink and dessert.
We head to the Yacht club which, as I’m about to reveal is not as classy as it sounds. We are deep in conversation and all of a sudden a very large very drunk very old woman lands in my lap. Our drinks are spilled everywhere, our purses are soaked. My pants are wet.
I’m pretty sure I turned to this woman, after she extricated herself from my lap and said “Seriously?! What the f*ck?!” I have never been one to be timid.
And her friend says “Don’t yell at her she is elderly.” Since when is 70 elderly? This is one hell of a friend.
So I said “She’s not elderly, she’s wasted.”
Fast forward to where we have new drinks and a new table to sit at. The woman who not 10 minutes before tried to give me a lap dance is now walking across the bar holding on to her husband’s arm. They are both stumbling. She falls onto another woman sitting at another table. Give. Me. A. Break.
Suddenly one of the other women says “Are they driving?”
Over. My. Dead. Body.
I reach across our new table grab my cell phone from behind my brand new margarita say to my mom “I’m going to go get in a fight in the parking lot, be right back.”
“Sir, you can’t drive. You need to give me your keys.” I say to the back of his head while he stumbles thru the parking lot.
::hic:: “I’m fiiiiine.”
“You are not fine.”
“No, you’re wasted. You’re stumbling everywhere. I’m not going to let you kill someone.”
He’s opening his door. He sits down. I reach out to grab his car door so he can’t shut it. He tries to pull on it. I move so I’m standing inside his car door I see the keys in his hand. I try to grab them. He pulls them away. I reach into his car to try to grab them my elbow slips and hits the horn.
I start honking and screaming. I’m alone in a dark parking lot. Half in some very drunk very large man’s car. Screaming “Give me your f*cking keys!” at the top of my lungs. His wife is slumped over near the door to the club waiting for this guy who is slurring his words like a frat boy.
Two women come running over to me. They probably thought he was trying to kidnap me. But it worked. At least I have help.
Eventually a bartender joins us. He convinces this mess of a man to let him drive his car, one of the women offers to follow and bring the bartender back.
They turn to me and say “You did the right thing.” Then he turns to me and says “She’s harassing me.”
“Harassing you?! You’re drunk. Shut the eff up! I don’t care if you think I’m a crazy bitch- you are NOT driving that car.”
I watch them switch seats. And I walk back to the club passing grandma who is still holding on to the pole of the awning I look her in the eye and say “It doesn’t matter that you think I’m a crazy bitch, your grand kids will thank me knowing I didn’t let you kill anyone tonight.”
Today I heard that a friend and her partner were hit by a drunk driver last night. They are okay, but thankful that their sweet baby was not in the car with them.
If you see someone trying to drive who shouldn’t. Please stp them, okay? You don’t have to drop the f-bomb like me- but everyone deserves to go home to their family.