. . .I only had one beer.
Sis 1 here . . .
It's been awhile since either of us posted. I think life kicked us both in the boobs at the same time and we've been struggling to function. I for one, want to take this blog in a different direction. Sill sassy and sarcastic, but not mean and bitchy. Karma will get ya for that. Not to say that occasionally I won't rag on the antics of the soon-to-be ex, but I want to tell you some funny stories instead.
So, I'll start with the title of this post.
Once upon a time, Sis 2 and I were out partying all night (as usual). We were chugging vodka straight from the bottle (probably why I don't drink vodka much these days) and we were driving all over town. Yes . . . back in the day, I did a lot of drinking and driving--it's a wonder we are alive to tell about it now. Anyway, I had a little boyfriend with me at the time and all night long, he kept popping breath mints in my mouth. Isn't that sweet? LOL! Just before we went into the arcade, late night, he popped one in my mouth and said, "don't chew, swallow." Side note--that phrase means something totally different to me these days. . . bwahahahaha. Anyway, I did what he said, and we were all having a great time, when I decided that it was time to go for a drive. We ended up on a backward ass country road, pitch dark, winding all over the place (to this day I can't find that spot), when I missed a hairpin turn.
It could have been really bad, but I just ended up driving through a field/yard and got stuck on top of a log. Yes--I drove a tank in those days, just like now. :) So, the only smart thing that sweet boy did all night was chuck the vodka bottle as far as he could, because just as I got the car unstuck, the sheriff pulled up. Yikes!
He asked me how much I had been drinking. . . not have I been drinking, but how much. Tells you something about growing up in Indiana in the 80s. At first I said I hadn't been drinking and he gave me that look, you know the one. The one that says, "do I have stupid stamped on my forehead?" So then I said the most famous line ever, "Honest Occifer, I only had one beer."
So, the lovely man with the gun asked Sis 2 if she could drive . . . of course, she said no. Then he asked sweet boy if he could drive . . . he wasn't even 16, so no. So he tells me to follow him. FOLLOW HIM?! Are you fucking kidding me? I couldn't even see him by that time. But, being the resourceful girl that I am, I said, yes sir. He got us back to the main road and stopped . . . I did not come anywhere near rear ending him, but I was afraid I would.
He then came back to my car and said he was going to take us home. I told him to take me to jail, because if he took me home, my daddy would kill me. I wasn't exaggerating either. So he went back to his car and got on the radio. We just knew we were all dead meat. He came back and said, "I want you to go straight home and I don't want to see you out again tonight." OMG! Saved! Then he turned around and said, "someday, tell your daddy I said hi." He was a friend of my dad's and knew exactly what would happen if he took me home.
Needless to say, we were all very happy and had every intention of going straight home . . . NOT. I won't bore you with the details, but after three more police "run ins" that night, finally we went home. BTW . . . wondering why sweet boy told me to swallow instead of chew? In his infinite wisdom, he thought that giving me a hit of speed would cancel out all the vodka. WOW! No wonder I couldn't see straight. Kids--speed in the 80s was not like speed now. It was pills and you could get really skinny taking it.
Anyway . . . that's the most famous of the stories . . . I'll try to think of some more to entertain you. In the meantime, keep it #sassyandsarcastic . . . .