Apes and I just got back from spending the weekend at the river and I haven't had time to write anything for today, so I'm pulling from my archives. This is one of my favorite memories from last year.
It's way long, so refresh your beverage and hit the bathroom. Of course, the other option is to not read it all. But I promise if you do, it'll make you want to call up your bestest friends.
Enjoy!Tuesday, March 07, 2006 (original post date)
Birfday barfing, wedding dresses, flaccid pizza and princess farts.
What do all of these things have in common?
All are part of last weekend in Chapel Hill. And
them's just the highlights.
A little history before we begin. There are three of us. Suzi and Laura grew up in
Bradenton, FL and have been best friends since shortly after the embryo stage. The three of us attended Florida State University and were freshman back in the day (1993). Laura and I met in the basement laundry room of our dorm, Reynolds Hall, where I was sorting whites from
darks and recovering from the disaster that had been my first roommate - Alina from Miami. I still can't talk about it.
It wasn't long before I met Suzi and the three of us became a relentless bundle of giggles, complete with utter disregard for anything PC and lady-like. Here were girls I could spend forever with - eating raw cookie dough while drinking Vodka straight from the bottle; who would forgive me for washing/drying their white clothes along with my tube of bright red lipstick; who'd laugh so hard they'd pee their pants because we locked our keys in the car AFTER spending 6 hours on the side of the road thanks to a dead battery; who'd bake birthday cakes with "hidden goodies" inside; who'd fight me using nothing but a red Sharpie; who'd trace their footprints on my wall and include perverted captions; who'd walk around wearing bras on their heads; who'd try to save me from my SECOND roommate who I am still convinced was part of a cult; and who absolutely supported and loved me when, 10 years later, I told them I was gay.
Suzi went on to graduate with a law degree from George Washington University and Laura is working on her PHD at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Around Christmas-time, Suzi's boyfriend
Sarat proposed and she became the first of our gang to become a real life
growed up. I get
verklempt just thinking about it. July 3rd is the big day in a place
TBD in West Virginia.
Ignoring reminders that in college she dreamt of getting married in cowboy boots and purple taffeta, Suzi wanted to go dress shopping. The fact she asked Laura and I to be her wing-women in this endeavor is something that can never be explained. I mean, Laura has to ask if her outfit matches before she puts it on. And me, well, I know nothing about wedding dresses, but I'm pretty handy with a Polaroid camera, so at least I had a task and something to keep me busy.
Last weekend was the perfect opportunity to get together because Friday, March 3rd, was Laura's 31st birthday. Suzi made the trek from West Virginia and I traveled from Knoxville.
A few hours into my trip, an already tipsy Laura called to tell me that she and Suzi were going to head downtown and for me to call her cell phone when I got closer.
About 9pm, I rolled into her driveway, made my
dawg agree to a speedy pee-break, changed clothes faster than Superman and dabbed a blot of blush on my cheeks and a smack of gloss on my lips. I was ready.
As I approached Franklin Street, I did as told and called Laura's cell phone. The plan was that she'd meet me outside of the bar they were in, hop in my car, help me park and we'd walk back to the bar. Given our history of NOTHING ever working out as planned, I was not in the least surprised when she didn't pick up her phone the 1st, 2
nd, 3rd or 4
th time I called. I just patiently circled all the drunk kids on Franklin Street, knowing that eventually the tipsy bitches would remember I was in town and call.
About 20 minutes later my phone rang and it was Laura, DRUNK, begging my forgiveness and telling me she was outside looking for my car. Assuring her I still loved her, I swung around and saw my best friend, looking all cute and fit in her black top, slimming jeans and yellow belt. She was standing in the middle of a parking space, barking at people who tried to get her to move. Once parked, I hopped out of the car and received the biggest,
bestest bear hug. Laura was laughing, telling me how drunk she was (
noooo, really?) and arm in arm, we walked into the bar where Suzi and a number of Laura's grad student pals were
throwin' 'em back.
As the ever dutiful DD (that's what you get for being the last to arrive), I downed only one beer and watched merrily as the rest partook in several more beers, a blow job shot and a car bomb shot. The highlight of my night came when the hot girl sitting next to me tried to get off her bar stool and stumbled into me, accidentally grabbing my ass and waist. She apologized profusely, trying to make sure I knew, without doubt, that her intention was not to grope me. Um.okay. I assured her I was totally fine with her copping a feel and Laura, Suzi and I shared a knowing glance and giggle.
I met A. at this bar. A. is a grad student hailing from Spain who had a hard on for Laura. They casually dated a few times, but Laura just wasn't into him. So they had the "let's be friends" talk and things have cooled over the past few months. I couldn't help it, but whenever he spoke, I felt like I'd been transported to Disney's Epcot. His accent reminded me of someone selling lemonade
slushies or Mickey ice cream cones. I shared my observation with Suzi who punched me in the arm but cracked up nonetheless. Whenever I'd hear him speak, under my breath, I'd say "
vich ice
kreeeme bar
vould you like to have,
leeettle girl?" Laura admonished me, telling me it was sexy -um,
ok.
Laura asked if we could drive A. home. I said sure and as we walked back to my car I felt it a good time to share that two people would have to lay down in the back of my hatch-back because the seats had been laid down to make room for luggage. Whoever chose to sit up front would have to do so with their knees scrunched up around their ears. They all stared at me and then broke out in peels of laughter as Laura and Alfredo stumbled into the back. Suzi and I both noticed how touchy
feely A. was getting. He most certainly was enjoying the close proximity to Laura in the back of my car. After we dropped off a longing A., we headed home and I rushed to let a drunk Laura out of the back of my car because she was lightly (thank God) kicking the window and yelling, "I'm stuck, I'm stuck! Let me out!"
The three of us piled into Laura's bed, just like old times. And, just like old times, Laura's drunk ass had to get out of bed because her world was spinning. The last thing I remember was her crawling over Suzi to get out of bed.
The next morning, Rosie, my pup, woke me with an anxious paw and full bladder. I trotted down the stairs and there was Laura, on her couch, white as a sheet, hand on her head, looking absolutely miserable. I let out my most sensitive laugh and she shot me the bird.
I said: "
awww, Lu, how are we this morning!"
To which she replied:
"I'm puking out of my mouth and bleeding out of my..." (insert most crass thing you can think of here - I'll spare you).
Instead of being repulsed, I laughed until I cried and shook my head, thinking, "see, THAT is why I love these girls." I poured her a glass of OJ and headed back upstairs to catch a bit more shuteye.
A few hours later, Suzi informed me she was certain Laura was on death's door and we decided that while we loved her, wedding dress shopping must commence without her. Laura barely lifted her head as we grabbed the Polaroid camera and headed out the door. As we got in the car, I wondered aloud if the snooty wedding boutique people would frown upon my hair that reeked of smoke. I'd opted for more shut-eye versus shower-time. Hey, I wasn't the one getting married.
Like two blind mice, we found our way to the first boutique.
Traditions is tucked away in the recesses of a plain strip mall. But walk in the door and they start charging you for every solitary breath you take. A sophisticated woman sheathed in black swept upon us and introduced herself as Carol, the boutique owner. Immediately I knew she sensed the lack of dollars in my purse. I nearly felt the need to scream "HEY! She's marrying a doctor, OK!"
I noticed this VERY gay man dressed in a black suit accented with a fitted red shirt standing in a corner, watching our every move. Carol informed us we had picked the perfect day to visit, as one of her designers had flown in from New York and could personally take our measurements and discuss customizing. Eh,
ok, great. I waved. He barely nodded in my direction. I bet he smelt my hair.
As Carol set us loose to peruse rack after rack of STUNNING gowns, we selected several and Suzi headed toward the dressing room. Realizing I forgot the Polaroid to snap shots of our favorite picks, I ran out to the car. I wasn't back in the store 3 seconds before Carol swept over, grabbed me by the arm, looked at me like "poor girl just doesn't know better", and informed me that under NO circumstances may we take photos. She'd signed a contract with the designer stating that no one will take photos of his work AND given the fact that he was standing in the corner (with a frown on his face), she'd appreciate it if I heeded this rule.
Ok. I turned to him and waved again. I pointed as I gingerly lowered the camera onto the padded bench.
Suzi emerged from the dressing room in a very pretty gown. Here's one thing I had no clue about. When you go dress shopping, there aren't different sizes of the same gown. So, you either try on a dress that looks like a fancy burlap sack on you, or, you try on an
itty bitty gown that you've got no prayer of zipping up. All depends on the size the store carries. So, Suzi emerged, her blue
Hanes underwear visible, holding up the dress so she doesn't have a nip slip. Her red argyle socks completed the look.
We "eh" the dress, much to the designer's dismay, and she went in for round two. She emerged again and immediately Carol screamed "oh, no, no no! that dress is not right for you!" Her arms waved madly and she shooed Suzi back into the dressing room as if the mere thought of her coming out in that dress would mean disaster. Suzi and I just stared at each other and laughed as she shut the door, saving the world from seeing Suzi in that dress.
As I waited for Suzi to try on her next dress, I became enthralled with this upper middle-class family that sauntered into the store. I took note of their two daughters and thought to myself, "damn, I wish I had long, thin legs like that." Now, remember that this was my first thought as it will be important. The engaged daughter might have been 23. Her younger sister was probably 17 or 18. They walked in and the engaged daughter (ED from here on out), showed her dad the strapless bridesmaids dresses that she'd selected. Her dad said:
"How in the hell are all your bridesmaids going to fit in that? Nikki is a fat cow!"
HORROR. Carol, apparently used to such bad manners, rushed over and in a calm voice explained how they measure girls at their largest parts and tailor the rest of the dress. My jaw was still on the ground.
The youngest daughter went in to try on her bridesmaids dress. She walked out, looking stunning, and her dad said (nastily): "well, you ALMOST look skinny. You'll have to take the back out so it doesn't scrunch up around your butt"
WTF? I was mortified for this girl who looked crushed. She was STUNNING!
He asked his daughter what size the dress was and she responded, quietly, "an 8". AN 8!!!!
My head whipped around so fast that the man's wife took notice. Very meekly she admonished her husband who said sternly: "Janet, shut your mouth. Jenna Lee knows I'm just kidding. I love to kid with her like that."
Oh yeah. Jenna Lee was having a ball. It was clear.
About the same time, Suzi and ED emerged from their dressing rooms and I nearly started to cry. Suzi looked like she was floating in one of the most amazing dresses I'd ever seen. She looked like a princess. Carol informed us that it was a Ramona
Keveza gown and called the Grace Kelly.
Price tag: $3,200.00. Gulp. But it was stunning. I couldn't stop staring at her. Even with the blue underwear and red socks.
ED also looked gorgeous, but she was rather busty and holding up her dress. Her dad said: "well, your boobs look a little smaller, I guess. Maybe a 1E, huh?"
Ok, I wanted to rip this man's head off and spit in his neck. He proceeded to tell his daughter that he liked the dress OK, but that her veil was incredibly boring.But if she wanted to be boring, then that was her choice.
At this point, Suzi was trying to talk to me, unaware of my involvement in this family's abusive patterns. I saw her lips moving, but had no clue what she was saying to me. My blood was boiling. Finally, Suzie said "you aren't listening to me at all, are you?"
Nope.
She changed back into her clothes and we talked to Carol about dress logistics if we ordered, how fittings work, etc. We explained we were going to a few more shops and that we hoped to be back with our friend who wasn't feeling well this morning. As we left, I purposefully threw the Polaroid camera over my shoulder, winked at Mr. Designer and glared at big fathead.
In the car, I unloaded on poor, unsuspecting Suzi. Ranting and raving, I explained fatheads like that man are a big reason why women have such poor body images and starve themselves to death.
It was only after ordering a peanut butter, banana and honey bagel from Foster's Market that I was able to unwind. That is, until I tasted the strawberry smoothie I'd also ordered and it tasted like ass. Then I had to complain about that.
We got home to our ailing friend and she tried her best to eat half a bagel. We told her she didn't have to go to the second shop with us, but she explained that Suzi and I had already left her out enough and she'd have no more of it. To make her point, she shakily drug her weary ass into the shower and forbid us from mentioning any word that even rhymed with drink or shot.
A sort-of refreshed Laura emerged from the shower and we loaded back into the car for the trip to Raleigh. Laura took the back seat and alternated between lying down and needing fresh air. We got to the next shop, called Victorian something or other.
You know how when you sit on an airplane and you watch people come down the aisle and you think, "no, please not you, please don't let it be you who sits next to me." Well, I admit to doing this the moment we walked into the store. And it didn't work. This woman walked up to us and unlike Laura; she clearly does not have friends who help her dress (I must interject here and admit that Laura no longer needs our help. She is a complete style maven now). Add to that this woman had something BAD wrong with her nose and she had a gigantic band-aid that was doing its best to cover it. I couldn't stop staring. I tried everything I knew to trick my eyeballs into looking at something different.
This lady started off on the wrong foot with Suzi when she chastised her for not having shopped for her dress sooner. I'm not sure, but I think Suzi shot her an under cover bird. The dresses were
ok, but they weren't nearly as pretty as Carol's dresses. Of course, they were half the price of Carol's dresses. We hand picked several and Laura and I entered the large dressing room with Suzi.
The first two she tried on fell into the "eh" category. The third one she tried on had me peeing my pants. Because we got Suzi stuck in it. She protruded from this dress at all kinds of bad angles and openings and we had no idea how to get her out. She stumbled around the dressing room, doing her best drunk Joan Collins impersonation and I couldn't control my bladder. I'd had way more fun trying on wedding dresses than I ever imagined. We finally got her out and into the last dress that was beautiful. I still favored the Grace Kelly dress, but this one was a great second choice if
Sarat put the kibosh on spending all kinds of money on a dress.
We left with Suzi feeling like the dress was a great contender, but the mean, nose-ailing saleswoman left her with a bad taste and she wasn't entirely confident they could get the dress delivered in time.
We decided to ponder our options over Mellow Mushroom pizza. We convinced Laura to save our seats while Suzi and I headed to the bathroom. She accused of us secret sharing, but she stayed behind and manned the booth. Our waitress came to take our order. Eons later, she brought out their veggie pizza and my CHEESE pizza? No, no no. I ordered a
HAWAIIAN. I said "um, this has ham and pineapple on it?"
She looked at me like I had two heads and said, "no. it's a cheese pizza." Her tone dared me to challenge her. I felt confident, so I did.
"I ordered ham and pineapple. Not cheese."
She whisked my plate away and I said "didn't I order a Hawaiian? I did, no?" Suzi and Laura confirmed I did indeed order an island pie and like good little friends, they waited until I received my new pizza. We waited nearly an hour. The waitress DID come by and say "the cooks are making it on the fly, so it'll be hot when it comes out." We spent a lot of time discussing that "on the fly" clearly meant different things to different people.
By the time my pizza finally arrived, I'd munched on enough other things that I considered just asking her to bring me a box, but felt that would be impolite. So I ate one piece and then asked for a box. Suzi picked up her first piece of pizza, studied it and remarked, "
ya'll, my pizza is really flaccid." I found that hysterical. I might as well of had Susan
Westenhoffer sitting right beside me, sharing her best material. I made a silent vow to not drink any more liquid because I was having trouble controlling my bladder.
Our pizza boxes and Laura in tow, we made a quick stop at David's Bridal before taking Laura to see the beautiful Grace Kelly dress. David's Bridal
skerred me. First, it was PACKED with people. Everyone from prom dress-seekers, to blushing brides, to flower girls, to obnoxious mamas who'd cut you if you looked like you were going to reach for the dress they had their eye on. We didn't stay long.
Back at Carol's, Laura and I waited for Suzi to try on the dress. While we waited, I re-told my fathead abuse story and we both waved to Mr. Surly designer. When she walked out, Suzi shook her head like "yeah, this is really the one I love." I tried to stay objective because both her choices were beautiful, but this dress was my favorite. It didn't take long for Laura to fall in love with it too. Carol took Suzi's measurements and said we could call anytime to order the dress.
That night, we made our pros and cons list and debated back and forth, back and forth. Laura loved the Grace Kelly dress but thought it too expensive and kept bringing up starving children. I balanced that out by reminding Suzi she looked like a princess floating on air. And that she'd be WAY prettier than all the other brides. It came down to flipping a coin. I picked heads. It landed on heads. YEAH!!! I suggested after the wedding she sell her dress and send the proceeds to the starving children. Win win for everyone.
Agreeing to let Laura relax and have a quiet, non-drunk night, we settled in to watch Hide and Seek. It's a freaky moving staring Robert Deniro and little Dakota Fanning. But it was nowhere near as disturbing as the melody of "princess farts" that continued to come from Laura's butt for which she was completely unapologetic for.
Driving home Sunday morning, I reflected on how lucky I am to have friends like Laura and Suzi. Friends who allow me to be so carefree and who make me feel like no matter what else is happening in the world, I have sisters whose jokes and farts will always make me laugh, and who'll never fail to make me cry with engagement rings and wedding dresses.
