They tried to make me go to rehab and I said “No No No”

It’s a Tearin’ up my Heart Tuesday and I come to you today with someone elses sad story…

If you weren’t sure before, this story should certainly convince you that my life is simply unpredictable. And I honestly mean that. Not even I can guess what will come into my life, who I will meet, what situations I will find myself in, when I wake up in the morning.

This past Sunday was meant to be like any other. I woke up, Burny watched football, I did some work, packed the car and waited for the game to finish so that Burny and I could return to our home in Nevada. If you know me at all, you know that I still spend a great amount of time in the Central California Valley for work and weddings and everything else it seems. And since I had not been home to Nevada in nearly 3 weeks, you can bet that I was pretty eager to get on my way.

The funny thing is, Burny and I were in separate cars this past Sunday and any other day I probably wouldn’t have waited around for him to watch the football game. I would have just headed home, and I would have met up with him there later in the day. However, on this particular Sunday, Burny had promised one of our cars to a fellow firefighter. He was visiting his girlfriend in Sacramento and wanted to come back up on Monday and so he and Burny arranged that he would take my car so that Burny and I would be able to ride home together. It’s a much nicer drive when you have company. But this, of course, is not the funny part. The funny part is that had I not waited for Burny, I would have never encountered PregoHitcher. And I might never have been able to write this amazing blog…

Life is so ridiculous sometimes.

Just ask PregoHitcher.

So Burny and I left the Sacramento area around 2- 2:30 in the afternoon on Sunday. It was in between football games so we had to make a break for it. And we were just driving up highway 50, enjoying our conversation, when the gas light came on. No big deal… there was a gas station just up ahead a few miles where we were planning to stop anyway.

Fresh Pond.

It’s one of our favorite stops on the way. We usually stop in there once each direction for something, whether it be food, gas, doggie break…

So of course we pulled off the highway and pulled up to a gas tank.

Burny no sooner than stepped out of the car when he was approached by two women. To be honest, there was one woman who I was sure was a man until she got close enough so that I could see her little, tiny boobies. She had on a backwards hat and piercings and baggie clothes and quite frankly, she was very ambiguous. But that’s hardly the point. She was heading over to talk with Burny and I just had a feeling that whatever she wanted was not going to be good for us.

She asked if we were headed up to South Lake Tahoe.

Burny hesitated, but ultimately answered ‘yes’. There is not a lot on the 50 between Placerville and South Lake Tahoe. I think that it was pretty obvious as to where we were headed.

And then she asked something that I just knew Burny was going to have to say yes to. And I have to tell you that at that moment, I just knew, our day was definitely taking a very strange turn.

The manish woman asked:

“Can you give this girl a ride?…..”

But the sealer was this last part…

“… She’s pregnant.”

And then the manish woman pointed to this very noticeably pregnant woman who had just lit up a cigarette.

Are. You. Kidding. Me.

Burny sighed and opened up with:

“uhhhhh…”

But I knew that he was going to say yes. I mean, what else were we supposed to do? We are Christians! And as random as this situation was, it was pretty clear that she posed no threat to us and it was also very clear that there weren’t a lot of other options that he could suggest.

Burny looked at me, still sitting in the passenger seat of the Jeep and said:

“We’re taking this girl to South Lake.”

Lovely.

So I got out of the car and introduced myself to PregoHitcher, the manish woman and the other girl who was with them. I figured that they all knew each other but as it turned out, the two girls had just seen Prego walking along the road and told her that they could give her a ride to the highway. They figured she would be able to catch a ride with someone heading up the hill.

Lucky us.

Of course we had Harper, my beautiful baby Golden retriever in the backseat, so I introduced him to Prego and helped her squeeze in our backseat beside him. Being a Golden retriever, he was overjoyed to meet her and immediately plopped his front feet and his head down on her lap. Some guard dog!

Burny finished putting gas in the car and then we were on our way to South Lake Tahoe… plus one more.

I have to tell you at this point that neither Burny nor I have EVER picked up a hitch hiker. It was completely out of character for us. But according to Prego, she had never herself been a hitch hiker so I guess there is a first time for everything.

Of course, as we began to head up the hill, the obvious questions had to be asked:

Where are you coming from?

Where are you heading?

Why are you in my car right now??

At first Prego was very vague about where she had been. She said she was actually on her way to Reno but her final destination was somewhere even more North of there. And of course that begs the question:

How did you get all the way down here to begin with?

“I had transportation provided,” was the only real answer she was willing to give at that point. But of course, we had a long car ride ahead of us. There was no way she was going to make it all the way to South Lake without divulging some kind of information… but for the time being, we figured we would just leave it alone. She was clearly in trouble and needed our help. And truly, she was very sweet and obviously very scared. She just kept saying that she was just praying nothing bad was going to happen to her. She was praying that no one would stop unless they were going to help. And of course we were the answer to that prayer. There was really no way around it. Burny and I were the perfect people to have come upon her. We clearly weren’t going to do her any harm, and we weren’t going to just leave her stranded either… we were going to make sure that she got all the way home safe. I don’t know that anyone else coming up that road would have been so willing to help… or rather, unable not to help. God works in mysterious ways.

So, since Prego didn’t want to talk about where she was coming from, Burny switched the conversation to the other elephant in the room… the unborn hitcher. He asked how far along she was and she said seven months. She looked further along to me. As a matter of fact, when we agreed to take her in, I immediately considered the strong possibility that we would be delivering a baby in our Jeep.

He asked if it was a boy or a girl and she said she hadn’t found that out yet, which I thought was strange. Usually by 7 months the doctors are able to tell the sex. Well, as it turns out, Prego only just realized she was pregnant about a month and a half ago. Hmm. Okay. The plot thickens…

Burny asked if it was her first child.

No. Her 5th!

Wow, okay. I was really struggling with all the questions I was not allowed to ask. I mean, really!!! But I did get to ask her age a few questions later, which I was dying to know, and her answer was 24.

How much is this a Tearin’ up my Heart Tuesday story already??? She is 24, hitch hicking in her 7th month of pregnancy. It’s her 5th child. She has no way of getting home, and home has no way of getting to her due to lack of a car and lack of money for a bus ticket. She is not quite willing to say where she is coming from and she SMOKES!

Well, if that’s not enough…

She finally broke down and told us that she had just left REHAB!

Apparently- and I hope I get this story right- she is an alcoholic (although she was very unwilling to fully admit that she had a problem) who had had some sort of trouble with her 4th baby’s daddy. He got in trouble and in order for her to take her daughter, she had to be tested for alcohol, which of course came up positive. But that wasn’t the only thing that came up positive. So now, because she was drunk and with child, the police or the court or whoever basically told her that her only option was to go to rehab and have the baby there, while she cleaned up her act. If she completed the program, she would be able to take her daughter without a problem. However, she had only been at this rehab program for 2 days when she decided that the people there were really ‘weird’ and it ‘freaked her out’ and so she just had to leave. She felt that the people there at rehab were into much harder drugs than alcohol and it wasn’t the place for her. So that’s when she decided that the best decision would be to leave and to take her chances trying to make her way the hundreds of miles back home… on foot.

I know I’m being sarcastic, but it really was sad. Like I said, she just seemed like a very nice girl who had gotten herself in way over her head. And she had prayed for us, and now we were there, and so it was going to have to be us to get her out of the mess she had made for herself. It wasn’t for me to judge her for how she came to be in my car, it was my job to help her at that point. And all I could hope was that she would learn something from it all and that maybe Burny and I would somehow be a good example for her.

And Prego was not the only one who was learning a lesson on Sunday. I honestly have not had such a crazy reality check in quite sometime. Sometimes it feels like Burny and I just can’t catch up with our bills or that we are just never going to move forward in our lives… but to have Prego suddenly pop into my life like that… it was a real eye opener. We really are so lucky. We really want for nothing. We really are blessed and that’s not to be taken for granted. It could be so much worse. And it is for a lot of people. It is for Prego.

So we took Prego all the way to South Lake Tahoe. Along the way we learned more and more about her. She was one of 9 siblings. She had 5 kids to 3 fathers. She lived at home with her mom and boyfriend, none of whom had a car or a job or a dollar to their name. Her kids were 5, 4, 2 and 9 months. She had one girl and 3 boys. I have to say, the more she talked, the more I could see the cycle that had been repeated and would continue to be repeated. She wanted to be a 1st grade teacher but she knew, as well as we did, that that was always going to be a dream for her. It really did just break my heart. There was literally no way that she was going to be able to break that cycle… it was just going to continue. I can bet that this baby was not going to be her last…

Once we got to South Lake Tahoe, Burny called the Women’s Center. It’s located near his fire station and he had met someone who worked there way back when he had gotten hired and he figured that that would be the best place for her. We certainly were not ready to get ourselves involved to the point where we were going to have to drive her all the way home (3 hours further).

When we were almost to the women’s center, Prego called her boyfriend from our cell phone and told us that if she could find a way to wire some money to him, he would be able to get his friend to give him a ride down to South Lake to pick her up. That sounded great. We told her that we would be happy to give her some money to give to him when he got into town. She said that he only had $6 to his name and he wouldn’t be able to even put gas in the car to get down there unless she was able to actually wire him some money before he left.

Okay.

Even though we had somewhat of a plan of attack, Burny still wanted to stop by the Woman’s Center to see if they could help in any way. Residents of South Lake Tahoe: Your Woman’s Center is a joke! Unless you are beaten by your significant other, they can offer you NOTHING. AND… they will be rude to you. And they will judge you. And they will basically encourage you NOT to help anyone else who might need some help either.

We told the lady there about our plan to wire some money to Prego’s boyfriend so that he could come pick her up and she basically looked at us like we were crazy. And then she suggested we just drop her off at the casinos.

“It’s warm and it’s open 24 hours and she will be safe.”

Yes… that’s true, but she will also be stranded, hungry, and alone… and pregnant.

I just couldn’t believe how unhelpful and rude this lady was being. There was no way we were going to leave Prego there. Maybe we were being crazy but she was now our responsibility and we were going to see her through to the end of her troubles. Truthfully, it was very satisfying to her how much she was thanking God for us and how she was so glad that we had come along. I just kept going back to that… we were there for a reason. We had come across her for a reason. We were quite literally the answer to her prayers. We had to stick this one out.

So Burny, Prego and I went to Safeway and we wired her boyfriend $50 to the Safeway in the town where she lived (north of Reno). Burny spoke on the phone with her boyfriend and gave him the instructions of how to pick up the money and then he gave directions on how to get to where we were. Prego’s boyfriend had to find someone with an ID to go with him to pick up the money because he didn’t have an ID himself. So now he had to find someone to drive him, someone to pick up the money, and someone to give him directions to his pregnant girlfriend. I was just so sad for them. And so thankful for what I do have.

Then Burny went to an ATM, took out $20 and gave it to Prego so that she could eat and go to a movie while she waited the 3 1/2 hours for them to come and pick her up. We gave her a ride down to state line and showed her where the shops were that she could wander through, where the movie theater was, and where Burny had described to her boyfriend that she would be waiting when he got into South Lake. She was very grateful and gracious and although we felt terrible leaving her there to wait, we definitely felt like we had done all we could. We were certainly not prepared to wait another 3 1/2 hours until she was reunited with her boyfriend.

I gave her my business card with my cell phone number on it and told her to call me if something happened. I also asked her if she wouldn’t mind calling me to tell me that she had made it home okay. She agreed. She got out of the car and we drove away.

The first thing she did was light up a cigarette.

Oh well… we did what we could for her. You can lead a horse to water….

Much later that night a voice mail popped up on my cell phone. It was her boyfriend. He said that he had reached Prego and that they were nearly home. It was almost 10 at night by then. He, too, was very grateful and asked if there was anyway that he could pay us back that we should let him know. He had said the same thing to Burny earlier on the phone. Burny’s response was:

Pay it forward.

and he added… Take care of her.

So that’s my story for today. I definitely learned some valuable lessons and I can only hope that Prego did too. I know I will never see her again but I’m sure I will think about her from time to time. I really do wish her the best and I hope more than anything else that she finds a way to turn her life around. I am so glad that it was us who found her that day and that we were in a position to help. Like I said, God works in mysterious ways… this is certainly proof of that.

Well Good Morning

I hate to say it, but my step father is rapidly becoming one of my favorite blog subjects. I guess, in a way, that’s what I have to do. I have to laugh at the situation. It’s a coping mechanism. And don’t get me wrong, so often I did laugh, but when I look back now… after all the years of craziness that we went through with him, it’s hard to remember the funny times. And when the funny times are when his drunkenness made us laugh, I’m not sure how funny that really is anyway, ya know? But alas, whatever gets you through. Sometimes you just have to have a sense of humor. And that… I have.

This story is about a legendary Fourth of July camping trip. Some of you are already laughing.

This story takes place not this past Fourth of July but the one previous. Around April of that year MacTen and Raps told me that they would be coming to visit for Fourth of July and of course Burny and I could think of only one thing to do: Camp. Mac and Raps are not necessarily campers. Or at least they had not been camping all that many times before this particular trip, so we thought that that would be the perfect thing for us to do.

As it turned out, we had a pretty good group that decided to join us. Nineteen at one point! And Burny and I could think of no better place to go but Icehouse… which is on the way up to Tahoe from the valley. My family had been going camping at Icehouse on Fourth of July since I was around twelve years old, and Burny and I had enjoyed coming together the year before. It was secluded, it was on a lake, but it was still a camp ground so we really had the best of both worlds. There were showers (that you had to insert quarters into) but the toilets were vial. It was a real camping experience without feeling too ‘in the middle of nowhere’. Perfect for Mac and Raps. Perfect for this story…

Well of course, as was the case any other year, my mother and step father went as well. They, along with my aunt and uncle and a few other family friends, were about three camping spots down the hill from us. Close but not too close. We couldn’t see or hear them, which was just perfect because I in no way wanted to share my trip with my step father. About half of the group were familiar with my step dad and his antics and the other half had certainly heard the stories. Of course whenever he is nearby, the stories come up and it never fails that someone says, ‘he can’t be that bad.’ This statement sets off the more unpleasant list of stories and so needless to say, my step dad was a hard topic to avoid. Especially when he was present.

As a matter of fact, at one point early in the weekend, someone made a joke that it wouldn’t be all too shocking if my step dad were to die on the camping trip. The half that knew him laughed, the half that had not yet had the pleasure thought that that might be a little bit over the top. Well, as it turned out, my step dad tried to go kayaking drunk, immediately tipped the thing over and couldn’t free himself. Yes, he nearly drowned. In no way do I think that that was the power of suggestion. That was the power of vodka.

Anyway, the camping spot we picked just so happened to be the furthest from the road. It was great for keeping our party private but it was a nightmare for loading and unloading the car. But either way, you couldn’t see our tent set up (which I must point out was around six tents) from the road. Well, not unless you were looking.

Well, Saturday morning, my lovely step father came looking…

Most of us had just stumbled out of our tents at this point and if I had to guess, I would say that it was around 10am. It was late enough that all 19 of us were awake, sitting around the fire and enjoying our breakfast. Well, enjoying it until he stumbled up.

I saw him down on the road right away. I have a special radar for him. And Burny pointed him out to the rest of the group. My step dad was still in his sweats and was clearly drunk. Even from that far there was no mistaking his stumble. And I knew exactly what he was after. He was looking for our campsite. Why? I had no idea. But I was in no hurry to find out. The group of us enjoyed making fun of him as he walked past, turned and came back, walked past for a thrid time, and then finally just started up the hill hoping to come across us.

Once he saw our group, and could plainly see (or so I can only assume) that we had seen him, he began to collect small twigs on his way up the hill. By the time he reached us, he had collected maybe 4 foot long twigs. And as he approached, a hush fell over the crowd. I am already embarrassed at this point, some of the group is already laughing and the rest are just waiting to see if all that has been said is true. Let me tell you… my step dad always delivers.

He opens up the conversation to the group of us with:

“I brought you some firewood.”

And then he throws his four sticks on our firewood pile. Ah yes… he thought ahead. He knew he would need a reason for coming up the hill… firewood. Brilliant! So at this point, I more or less have my back to him so I get to see the entire group, who is all staring at my step father. Burny is the one to talk. He asks my step father what we can do for him. My step dad, who can hardly stand, looks around and says,

“Do you have my pipe wrench?”

Most of the group bursts out laughing. Myself included. I mean, what on earth? It was as if everyone was anticipating something so ridiculous that it didn’t matter what he actually said, it was going to be funny. Don’t worry. The fact that everyone was laughing did not offend my step father. As a matter of fact, I don’t think he even noticed. But Burny didn’t miss a beat.

“Your pipe wrench? No, we don’t have your pipe wrench.”

“I let you barrow it,” my step dad said.

More laughter. Clearly we have had no immediate need for a pipe wrench. And why on earth would we have assumed that anyone would have brought one camping?

“Nope, we don’t have it. What do you need?” Burny asks.

“Oh no, I just need my pipe wrench.” My step dad has this weird habbit of opening every single sentence with ‘Oh no,” or “No.” For example: “No, no, you’re right.” or “No, I agree with you.” “No, I put the milk in the fridge.” It’s weird!

“Do you need a hammer? We have a hammer if you need that,” Burny offered.

At this point I can’t help but notice that everyone in the group is nearly in tears. Some of the guys have actually stood up to walk away they were laughing so hard. My step dad is funny, don’t get me wrong, and the conversation is retarded, but I couldn’t help but feel that I was missing something. I mean these guys were literally in tears.

“No, no… I know where my hammer is. It’s at home in the garage,” My step dad said. Clearly he misunderstood the question. Or maybe we have misunderstood everything. Anything is possible with him. And certainly, as I have said before, he will deny any of this having ever happened.

“Well, we don’t have your pipe wrench.”

Just as my step dad is starting to catch on to the fact that everyone is literally laughing at him, I overhear someone say something about a boner…

I turn around to examine my step father further. And sure enough… I kid you not… the man is at half mast!

In sweats.

Possibly no underwear.

I mean it was the morning…

I can literally feel my face get red and I too, have no other option but to cry with laughter. And as if this is a scripted event, Burny asks my step father one final question:

“What do you need a pipe wrench for?”

My step dad is right there to answer back with:

“I need to go pound something.”

WHAT!??!

He has a boner…

He needs a pipe wrench…

and he literally says “I need to go pound something.”

And at that moment he turns and heads back down the hill, as if nothing out of the ordinary has occured. The man does not get further than five feet away before the entire group of 19 people explode in laughter. Laughter that goes on and on. Laughter that is intermixed with words like ‘pound something’ and ‘boner’.

This is not a joke. God, do I wish it was. But alas, it is not. This actually happened.

Needless to say, the few people in the group that had not yet met my step father, or had not been introduced to his ways, asked us no further questions about our stories and our offhanded comments. There was just nothing else to say. My step dad and certainly said it all!

Blame it on the A A A A A Alcohol

Way back when I was twenty years old, just beginning my REAL adventures, I made a bad decision.

Major Woopsie Daisey moment!

Can you believe it? After reading this blog so far, I know you all just can’t imagine ME making a bad decision. But alas, it is so. But I had company in this bad decision. As always, I was riding right along side my very own side kick, MacTen when I made this bad decision. And she made it too. And to this day, we are not sure why…

It was a Sunday of all days, and MacTen and I, and a good friend of ours The Mayor, had just finished watching the second part of a VERY long play called Angels in America. If you are familiar with this play, you can immediately sympathize with the length of the show. If you are not familiar, let me just tell you this much: This play is TWO parts in total. Most theatre companies only ever attempt to do one part, because each part is three hours with two intermissions. Of course my college decided to attempt both parts, and they did this by offering the option to watch part one as a matinée and then part two, three hours later as an evening performance, or you could watch part two the following day on Sunday. This play, however long, is brilliant and I encourage you all to see it if the option arises. I saw the six hour show two times during this run, so you can see how committed I am to my trade. Anyway…

MacTen, The Mayor and I, decided that after such a long day in the theatre, we needed to go right home and embark on a ‘Friends’ marathon. (‘Friends’ like the show). And so we did. Believe it or not, this is not the bad idea! The bad idea is yet to come.

Once at my house, The Mayor put on the first DVD and very enthusiastically encouraged us to join him on the couch. Of course MacTen and I were a little restless. I mean, we had just spent an eternity sitting in the theatre. All of the sudden a ‘Friends’ marathon didn’t sound so fun. So MacTen and I came up with a new and improved version of the ‘Friends’ marathon. And this new version goes like this: The Mayor sits and watches ‘Friends,’ while MacTen and I drink. This is where the bad idea starts. Keep in mind it is about 5 o’clock on Sunday and we have class the following day.

Like I said, I was twenty which means MacTen was probably right around eighteen. So needless to say, we didn’t have a lot of options when it came to drink choices. And despite our efforts, no one seemed to be available to get us any alcohol on a Sunday, so we resigned to drink what we had. What we had to drink that day is the beginning and end of the bad idea.

We drank Popov vodka and Mountain Dew…. Code Red.

And we drank it as if it was going to disappear at 6pm. And disappear it did. MacTen and I did work on this vodka. I really, honestly do not know what our plan was exactly. Naturally things get a little fuzzy in this particular memory, but I seem to remember that her boyfriend at the time was perhaps going to bring us something better to drink a little later on and so we figured we better get rid of what we had in the house… something brilliant like that. So we did. We got rid of that vodka in record time. Literally, I wonder if The Mayor did not enter us in the Guinness Book.

As my memory goes, the vodka was completely gone (split between only MacTen and I… The Mayor was quite enthralled with ‘Friends’) in maybe half an hour. And the next thing I know, MacTen and I are beyond wasted and we are sitting on the kitchen floor, refrigerator door open, stuffing our face with left over CPK pizza. And that pizza was delicious, despite the fact that it may or may not have been in the fridge for longer than its expiration date. This was college. People didn’t throw out food just because it went bad.

And of course… everything we did was hilarious. This fact, has never changed I might add. To this day, EVERYTHING we do is hilarious, but it was especially hilarious on this day. And for some reason, The Mayor just could not quite grasp what was so darn funny. I remember him being rather annoyed, if you can believe that! I mean we were being seriously hilarious.

Well, in the midst of all this hilarity, MacTen gets the amazing idea to go to the beach. And clearly, I can not think of a better plan in the whole world. So we immediately petition The Mayor to drive us there. For whatever reason, he does not think it would be a good idea. I guess we must not have explained it well enough, because of course it was a good idea. It was an amazing idea. And we were not about to be thorted by The Mayor just because he was the only one with the ability to drive. No, no. I can’t remember who came up with our next idea, but it too, was amazing. We decided that we would just run to the beach. Now, I lived in Normal Heights in San Diego. If you know where that is, you’re laughing right now. For those of you who need a little more information… we are talking maybe a 15 minute drive on a good day to the beach from where I lived. But alas, this was not going to thort us either and so we set off.

I was wearing a pair of pink sleep shorts and a black tank top and MacTen was wearing something equally as inappropriate for outdoor wear. I wish I had a visual for you. I know there is a picture out there and try as I might, I can not find it. MacTen, help me out if you have it…

Anyway, I digress… MacTen and I burst out my front door and take off down the street. Now, if someone were to actually run from my house to the beach, they would have taken off in the opposite direction as we ran, but that didn’t really occur to us. Believe it or not, I think we knew somewhere in our subconscious that we wouldn’t actually make it to the beach. And that became clear about half a block from my door step. MacTen took a nasty spill. I am talking one of those trips that leads to an awkward run where you are trying to catch up with yourself when ultimately you know you’re just going to fall anyway kind of things. And of course, as soon as she hits the ground, I, who am following way too close, launch myself right over the top of her. Now this… was hilarious. At the time of course. The next day MacTen had a bruise that would put a plum to shame. But at the time… Well let’s just say The Mayor had to come and scrape us off the sidewalk and escort us back inside where he immediately returned to his marathon.

Looking back… it’s really a good thing that he was there. If he hadn’t have been, MacTen and I might be dead.

Well, after the fall, MacTen and I decided to finally give it a rest. I had two rocking chairs in my living room (I have a bad habit of rocking… well, I don’t really think it’s a BAD habit per say, but it is strange and it does rule my life a little bit). MacTen sat in one, and I sat in the other. Usually, that is exactly where I want to be if I am drunk or feeling yucky. My rocking chair. But on this particular occasion, the rocking motion really wasn’t helping matters at all. The rocking was making me think about all the Mountain Dew Code Red and vodka I had consumed… and the pizza… and the running… and well I just didn’t feel good all of the sudden. And no sooner had that thought occurred to me, did MacTen say,

“I think I’m going to puke.”

Took the words right out of my mouth.

“Me too,” I said.

And so we both retired into the bathroom together. We took our respective seats on either side of the commode. Ane we began the art of spitting.

Now, I have to take a minute here to let you all in on something. I do not puke. I do not get drunk and throw up. This strange occurence has only happened to me three times in my entire life. So you can understand how far this Sunday had gone. But if there is one thing I DO do, it’s spit. I will sit there and spit into a toilet all night long. I won’t puke, but I will spit. The relief you get from that purge is never mine… just the anticipatory spitting. And so of course, I expected nothing less when I sat by the toilet on this particular event.

But before I know it, a phone is ringing and then MacTen is gone and then nothing…

My memory stops.

It picks up again an undetermined amount of time later when MacTen had returned and was shaking me. I heard her voice first and I felt her shaking my body around, but I couldn’t see. The thought crossed my mind that I had drank myself blind, but that thought did not last long. No, all of the sudden, my sight was back but I could not explain what I was seeing. It would seem that there was a wood floor growing out of the side of my head. How strange. But of course the longer I pondered this vision, the further I could see. And then I realized that a ways down the hall, which I determine was what I was seeing, was my bed. I was seeing under my bed. How was I seeing under my bed? Where was I?

And before I could figure that out, MacTen sat me up. And now I was staring at the toilet again. I was sitting cross-legged in front of the toilet, just like that. Just like I had been before my memory stopped. Amazing. As it turns out, I had passed out and was laying half in the bathroom, half in the hallway (if you hadn’t figured that out yet).

Unfortunately for all parties involved at that very minute, the jarring movement from laying down to sitting up brought back all those unforgiving feelings of nausea. Of course the saving grace in all of this was that I was already sitting in front of the toilet. All MacTen had to do was heed my very quick warning, pull back my hair, and hold her breath. And out it came. My first puke from being drunk. Code Red.

After I was done, I finally knew what everyone was talking about when they said, “If you would just puke you would feel so much better.”

I felt on top of the world. But MacTen had had enough. She put me to bed, despite my insistance that I was fine and despite the fact that it was still light outside, and her boyfriend came and picked her up. Man, one throw up incident and the party was over! After all we had been through. I guess that part of the night was not hilarious.

Suddenly I was all alone, still hammered, and feeling much better. So I did what any other drunk person would do in that situation. I called everyone I knew, sitting in my bed, and I told them that I had thrown up. I felt like I had really accomplished something, and I really felt like people would want to know about it.

When all is said and done, I think that the major Woopsie Daisey moment in this story was the Code Red. I mean, really?

And there he goes…

Welcome back to WoopsieDaisey Wednesdays. I wasn’t so sure how this category would pan out, but quite frankly, it amuses me. Turns out I know lots of people who fall and lots of people who have ‘woopsiedaisey’ moments. So it really works out for all of us.

As a matter of fact, I just recently realized that I have a wealth of fall stories in one new friend: PostalService. If she will permit me, I’d love to tell some of those stories in the coming weeks. She too is a squiggly circle and tells stories amazingly, so I might just have to have her be a guest blogger. We will see. I will check with her and then I will be sure to share with you all, one way or another, her amazing stories that kept me laughing as I was trying to fall asleep recently in Vegas.

But for today, I will tell one of my favorite fall stories; one that has become somewhat of a legend. Yes, it involves my step father. And yes, believe it or not, it involves him being drunk. See, I told you that living with an alcoholic has its perks. Despite the heartache, it has provided me with an arsenal of stories. This one included.

So, this story takes place back in the JayHans period. Pre-LemonBass and Pre-our official proclamation of feelings. JayHans and I were in our early teens (or at least I was), maybe around 13. We were flirty, but then again, we were young so what does that really even mean? Basically, it was clear that we had crushes on one another. This might have only been the third time I’d ever met him, I’m not sure. But regardless, we had managed to find ourselves in his family’s hot tub alone. Let me promise you, it was very innocent. Like I said, we were just kids and we hadn’t even admitted to ourselves, let alone each other, that we liked each other. My sister might have even been in there with us. So pretty much we were talking. The rest of the family was not far away, drinking and carrying on in the garage. Like I mentioned, this family knows how to party.

And out of nowhere, here comes my step dad, stumbling up. Now I have probably described this before, but it warrants repeating. My step dad is a DEAD GIVEAWAY. There is never a question of ‘was he drunk last night?’ He is worse than a frat boy. And I don’t understand it because you would think that after a life time of drinking, one might develop somewhat of a resistance to alcohol. I mean, I guess what I can conclude from that is he drinks way more than we can even imagine. And he is not a little guy. He should be able to handle himself better, but he simply can not. He can’t walk. He can hardly stand without swaying. His eyes close. He licks his lips over and over again in the most offensive way and he makes absolutely NO SENSE. So like I said, there is never a question as to whether or not he was drunk. Now, picture if you will, someone whom I have just described, standing in front of you and telling you that they are in fact, NOT drunk. Can you even imagine how frustrating that is?

Again, I digress…

SO here comes drunk step dad with my mom not too far behind. JayHans and I see him coming from a mile away, so we are waiting for the brilliant statement that we are sure is coming. Even still, Step dad still thinks he has surprised us when he finally arrives. JayHans and I are just waiting for it to be over with, whatever it is. Step dad leans over and says:

“What are you two kids doing in…”

And then he passes out. Yes, he passes out mid sentence. I’ve never quite seen anything like it. And because he is not a small man, all that weight has nowhere to go but down. And unfortunately for all parties involved, down is into the hot tub. And there he goes…

This huge man sinks straight to the bottom. There is just no if, and’s or butt’s about it. He is at the bottom. We aren’t sure if he’s hit his head or if he’s had a stroke or what. And JayHans and I are obviously panicked and we are pulling at his clothes and trying to get our hands under him, but not only is he dead weight, he is wedged at the bottom of the spa. If you can picture a spa, imagine the part in the middle where all the feet are meant to go. It’s the smallest part in the spa. Now imagine a huge man, rolled into a ball, literally wedged down in that small space. And it’s dark outside and he is blocking the spa lights. This man doesn’t stand a chance.

But even still, Jay and I are pulling and trying to get our arms down into that space to pop him out, but to no avail. And then, as suddenly as he went out, he wakes up. Try waking up in a tub of hot water, I can only imagine how alarming that must have been. So of course when he wakes up, he nearly takes Jay and I out as he launches up out of the water. We are talking arms flaying, gasping for air, drunkenly trying to climb out. And if I wasn’t so relieved that I wasn’t going to have to live with the fact that I was in a spa with a dead man, I would have been pissed!

But don’t worry, my step dad ALWAYS gives me a reason to be pissed no matter what the circumstances.

He gets out of the spa and turns to Jay and I and says: “They were holding me down!”

What?! Are you kidding me? I laughed. I thought he was joking. He HAD to be joking…

Nope. He was quite serious.

He continued his tirade of how JayHans and I were holding him down and trying to kill him. And then he turns on my mom and accuses her of pushing him in. I mean, it’s not like we didn’t have the motive, but come on! We had just saved this guys life. He is impossible. And if his splash and our sceaming didn’t draw the attention of everyone in the neighborhood, his accusations sure did. He was practically ready to call the cops on us. I mean, this went on and on. All night long he stuck to his story and refused to admit that he even just fell, let alone passed out.

To this day, if you ask him about that story, he holds to the fact that my mom pushed him in and that Jay and I held him down. Now, of course, he will say that he knew it was just a joke, and we wern’t trying to kill him, but he won’t admit the truth. He will NEVER admit that ANYTHING is or was his fault and he certainly would never admit to being drunk that night. It still astounds me, even now.

The only consolation I got was in the morning, when I went out into the back yard, my step dad’s leather wallet was floating in the pool, completely ruined. And just the other night, my sister told me that she ran into a farmer in town that has worked with my step dad. Surprise, surprise, this man has a similar story about how my step dad tried to pin something on him that was actually in fact, my step dad’s fault. Somehow, in some small way, this makes me feel better. Small pleasures I guess, but that’s all I have when it comes to him.

Travel Light

Welcome back to Sisterhood of the Traveling Thursdays! This might just be my favorite day as my travels are my favorite memories!

Tonight I want to talk about a very interesting experience I had in London on my third trip to Europe, second trip to London. This story includes a character whom I have not yet mentioned, so she requires some back story. Stick with me.

Her name is PeppeLaBabs.

I met PeppeLaBabs under somewhat… unusual circumstances. One of my best friends, EMoney, whom I have known since Jr. High was my roommate for a time around 2006-2007. We lived in an amazing apartment overlooking the Bay in San Diego with her twin sister and good friend of mine, Dewip.

It was during this short, but eventful year, that EMoney decided that she liked girls. Now, as a theater person, I have been around gay people since before gay people existed so I of course had NO issue with this whatsoever. But it was the way in which she decided to like girls that got my blood boiling a bit.

This part of the story is a blog for another day entirely, but basically EMoney met this wonderful guy at a bar and started dating him. He charmed Dewip and I immediately, but apparently his sister was the real charmer for EMoney. LONG, CRAZY story short, EMoney ended up with the sister instead… the sister was PeppeLaBabs.

As the best friend, I was expected to become buddies with the new significant other. I will admit, with the way the relationship began, it was a challenge for me to let my guard down and stop judging them both for being so ridiculous, but after a short time, I grew to really enjoy PLB (PeppeLaBabs is officially being shortened).

She was very funny, very outgoing, very interesting, and very much a girl. This sets up a strange dynamic. When you are becoming friends with your best friends boyfriend, the boundaries are so clearly set up, but when the boyfriend is a girl, the boundaries are not so clear. For example, going to coffee with a friends new boyfriend might be a bit odd. But going to coffee with a girlfriend, which is how I saw PLB, is not strange at all. Well, basically, it was hard to figure out what I was and wasn’t supposed to be doing.

I invited Dewip, EMoney and by default, PLB to Vegas early on in the relationship. At first, all three girls were interested, but as it turned out, only PLB committed and went. This is of course another blog too, but my point is this: When the subject of ‘Who want’s to go to Europe with us?’ came up, and PLB said ‘Me!’ I didn’t think it would be too strange to include her on the trip. She had never been after all, and EMoney and Dewip were not able to go.

Whether this was inappropriate to do or not, I’m not sure… but don’t worry, I learned my lesson.

I’m going to give you the moral of this blog right up front: When traveling… anywhere… make sure you REALLY want to be with your travel mate morning, noon, and night, and make sure you REALLY know that person well, because there are no secrets in travel.

Well, to add just a tad more awkwardness to the situation, PLB and EMoney broke up before the trip. SO now I was taking my friends ex girlfriend to Europe. But I must also say that the other girls on the trip were MacTen, Raps and my sis D’Monk, so it’s not like I was going to be alone with her. It was clearly a girls trip and we were all ready to have fun.

Yea…

NIGHT ONE!

When you travel, particularly when you kind of throw together somewhat of an impromptu trip to Europe, the funds are never flowing like you would like. Everything must be crazy budgeted and you have to be smart about what you spend. Well, PLB started her trip with $100 less than I had told everyone was the minimum they should bring with them. That was not the best start, but hey, I figured maybe she was on a different budget than I was.

Day one in London, after doing the Big Red Bus tour which I swear is the best money ever spent, the five of us ran across London (no joke, we booked it) to catch this walking ghost tour we had heard about. And even though our running had paid off and we were not more than two minutes late, we had either missed the tour or the tour was a ghost itself, because there was no one at the meeting place. As a result, we decided to drown our sorrows of having missed the tour at a pub just up the street from where our tour beginning would have been.

This pub just so happened to be around the corner from Big Ben. The sun was setting as we went into the pub so I requested that after dinner and a drink, we go take a look at Big Ben at night. I had seen the clock, but never at night. I had seen pictures and I knew it was going to be extraordinary, but the whole point was that it had to be at night. The group agreed. The plan was set.

Or so I thought…

We ate dinner and with dinner comes drinks. And with drinks comes more drinks. And with more drinks comes budget out the window kind of drinking. I had a brilliant heart to heart with D’Monk, who I had wanted to bring to Europe since my first trip, Raps and Mac were chatting about their long friendship and PLB sat in the corner rather unsociable. She didn’t talk much. She went to the bar to order her drinks instead of ordering them at the table, which we didn’t realize until later was her way of drinking more than we could monitor.

Before we left the states I specifically asked the girls to always keep a low profile. If you have ever traveled abroad, you know that it is never in your best interested to be American. And of course being polite and respectful should have gone without saying, but I guess I should have said it anyway.

When it came time to leave, Mac did something that I will never forget. She had been doing a ton of babysitting leading up to the trip so she had a good $1000 more than the rest of us had to spend and she offered to cover the entire bill. She said that she had had such a great night and she didn’t want anyone to feel stressed or regret spending the money the next day, so she paid the tab of five very drunk girls. That is the kind of girl she is.

PLB, however, was about to show us just what kind of girl she really was.

We walked out of the bar and headed around the corner towards Big Ben as planned. I tell you, I was so excited. I had been mentioning it through out dinner and drinks and making the girls re-promise that we would in fact go see Big Ben at night, no matter what.

‘No matter what’ did not include PLB not being able to walk and shouting obnoxious things and being all around RUDE to passers-by on the street. I pulled the plug so fast on our excursion out of pure embarrassment. I could not believe she was acting like that. The rest of us made a quick decision to go ahead and spend even MORE money we didn’t have on a cab because we knew PLB would either puke or be thrown off the tube. This was of course right around the time that we were piecing together her ‘bar trips’ and counting the glasses on the table in our heads.

The cab takes us to the street where our hostel is, but there is still a block or so walk. Mac and I quite literally had to carry PLB down the street. Now keep in mind that London is not like Isla Vista in Santa Barbara. There was no one else being carried down the street. There was no one else screaming and making a scene. And I promise you, no one else on that entire street puked on someones doorstep… but PLB did. Mac, bless her heart, stood right there with me while I nearly cried out of hate, embarrassment and shame for my favorite city. Usually I am a good friend during these moments. Usually I am the girl who holds your hair back and scoops the puke out of the sink with my hand, but not PLB. Not when she had just thrown up on London!

We finally made it back to our hostel, and let me just remind you that hostels are usually shared. We had a six person room with only five of us, so there was an Asian gentleman, who spoke no English, who luckily had somewhat of a sense of humor about the situation. He could have easily complained to the front desk and had us kicked out.

Of course I was trying to explain this to PLB, but she was busy being a raging bitch. Oh yes, once we got back to the hostel, she went from crazy American girl on the street to rabid beast with a drinking problem. And most of her fury was aimed towards Mac and I, her rescuers. Raps and D’Monk… yea, they went to bed. Sorry guys… but ya did.

Mac and I, put PLB in the bathroom to finish what she started on someones doorstep and what does she do? She absolutely insists on takeing off her shirt. Lucky Asian guy, more aggravated me.

After about 20 mins of trying to convince PLB that she could not sleep in the bathroom, we decided that we were both about to strangle her and we needed to step out for a moment to gather our sanity. I put D’Monk in charge of the raging girl in her bra. We went downstairs and sat on the front porch of the hostel in our favorite city and talked about how people take us for granted. How we are the friends to have and how we really shouldn’t have invited that crazy bitch.

We were gone maybe 10 minutes. We returned to find Raps and D’Monk sound asleep in their beds. PLB was laying on her back with a mouth full of puke. Lovely. So we sat her up and of course more curse words and accusations and full on swings was all we got as a thank you.

Finally we drug her out of the bathroom and put her on the bed, despite her pushing, swearing and fighting us all the way. I have to say that at this point, I had joined her in the curses and violence. I had had it. I was crying, I was screaming, I was telling her in all seriousness that I would be taking her to the airport if she kept it up. And I meant it too. This was NIGHT ONE guys! I couldn’t even imagine another day with her, let alone 10!

But throughout all of this, Mac stayed very calm, cool and collected.

That is until PLB said and I quote: “THis is your fault anyway [Mac], you shouldn’t have bought all of those drinks.”

Remember how we all ordered everything before Mac offered to pay? Well, Mac remembered because she lost it and literally I had to grab her and pull her off of PLB. I had never and have not since seen Mac attack someone like that. It was like she had just been pushed too far. And it was amazing.

Of course at that point, D’Monk thought that it would be wise to involve herself and so she kicked Mac and I out. But on all accounts, that was fine by us. We took off down the street at a crazy pace that was more floating than walking really. We moved so quickly, crying and laughing with no destination in mind. But we knew once we saw it where we had been heading: McDonalds.

There are only a few times in life where McDonalds is a sight for sore eyes, but this was one of those times. Literally, my eyes were sore from crying. I can’t imagine what the other late night diners were thinking when they saw these two American girls burst in the door, make up running down their cheeks, laughing, gasping for air. But we couldn’t have even explained PLB given the chance.

To this day, I still CAN NOT BELIEVE a grown person could act that way. Swinging and cursing at the people who were just looking out for her. The people who invited her on this trip to begin with. Ever play that game ‘which of these things are not like the other?

‘

Well, if you would have played that with the five of us, PLB was clearly the odd one out that was just kind of a tag-a-long that we had included because we wanted to show her the world.

The next morning she acted like all was well. She even made a joke about how crazy the night had been. But the jokes ended when they were not well received. And then they really ended when we realized that Raps had lost her PassPort in the cab ride which we never would have taken had it not been for PLB.

The rest of the trip we all kept our distance from PLB. By the end of it, we even stopped going sight-seeing together. PLB ran out of money early on so she spent her days hanging around the hostels while we went on our adventures.

I did get to see Big Ben at night on that trip. It was breathtaking.

My favorite part of the whole night, looking back, was after we got back to the hostel and PLB was going crazy. The Asian dude got his English translation dictionary out and got our attention. He looked at us, looked at PLB and said:

“She Cwazy”.

I really couldn’t have put it better myself.

Well, life happens…

You’re right… I blew it! I totally left you hanging again on the Justin Timberlake story. I am really thinking that maybe it is not meant to be told! I just don’t know why I can’t get it onto paper/blog. So strange… But alas, I can’t finish it even now because I have something I need to vent about…

I welcome comments on this blog… I always welcome comments, but this blog really warrents comments, so please, apease me!

My step father… he is an alcoholic among other things. I know that that changes a person and I know that it is a disease and all that; my real father is an alcoholic… I know the drill. But I honestly don’t know if my step father is a good person under all the drinking. I don’t know if he has any real decency at all. I never felt this way about my dad, so it’s not just the alcohol. He is also a pathological liar, as I know alcoholics are. But I just wonder if he would be likable outside of the drinking…

Now, in another blog at another time, I will tell funny stories about him and about his drunken escapades, because believe me, there are many! And they are funny. But I really don’t want to go into too much background at this point, other than to say the following (you know I love bullet points):

-He has two DUI’s on his recent driving history and continues to drive daily drunk… not drunk… hammered! He has already had the breathalyzer installed in his car and taken out.

-He has been arrested from his children’s school for drunk in public.

-He has lost custody of his kids.

-He has been through AA several times

-He has been to rehab.

-He ‘quit’ his job one random day to start his own business right after they had sent him to rehab and he continued to drink upon return (i.e. he was fired).

-My mother is the second woman who is divorcing him due to the drinking…

-He claims he paid for my whole wedding to make me look bad. He did not.

-He claimed he paid for my entire surgery which I recently had to make me look bad($65,000). He did not pay a dime. He was actually kicked out of the hospital for showing up drunk.

-THEN he claimed he HAD the surgery I had. Of course, he did not. He is a liar. It’s unbelievable the extent to which he lies. But it’s even more unbelievable how much peopel believe him. Of course he would deny absolutely all of this if you asked him.

-And the worst part of all of this (and there is so much more, trust me), is that ALL of these things are my fault, or my mom’s fault, or his ex wives fault… it’s never been HIS problem or HIS fault. He doesn’t see how hiding vodka behind the tv, or in boxes in the garage, or in the tool box on his car, or in the shed, or in HIS KIDS ROOM is an issue. That’s perfectly normal I guess. Maybe I am the one who is crazy, because I am telling you, I’m beginning to feel that way.

Alcoholism is a serious problem. It’s a disease, like I said. But it’s a disease that there is a cure for. It’s a disease you choose over your family. It’s a disease that people recover from all the time. Don’t get me wrong… I know that it’s a struggle… probably the biggest struggle of a person’s life, but it’s a possibility. The option to stop is there every single drink. The help is there. The support is there. It’s all there.

But let’s not get off topic…

After almost 14 years (or something rediculous like that) of zero changes, my mother has FINALLY left my step father and now rents her own house across town. She left in September.

This past Sunday, my step father thought that it was a good plan to ‘stop by’ at 11pm. My younger sister lives here with my mom, and my mom takes Ambian every night. If you have never taken or seen someone take Ambian, think tranqulizer dart.

My step father knows she takes it. He has manipulated her on it in the past, and he knew exactly what he was doing when he showed up on Sunday.

My mother let him in. He stayed for 2 hours.

Is this inappropriate? My sister has made it MORE than clear that she does not feel comfortable around him. I have tried to get a restraining order against him. And this is nothing new. This is how we have always felt.

So I ask again, is it inappropriate that he came over and was let in?

Now, once here, of course my mother was nearly unconscious, he begins to verbaly abuse her as he has done for years while my sister sits in the same room not willing to leave him alone with our mother. He makes sexual comments to her. He tries to take her unconscious self to bed. He tells her how much she is ruining everyone’s life including his new girlfriends life and how  my sister and I are responsible for every problem in their marrage (of course it’s not his drinking). When my sister’s friend finally arrives to kick him out (on sister’s request), my step father tells him how my sister is the problem and she can not be trusted and on an on. And SHE should leave, not him, because he has every right to be there. Let me promise you that he is not on the lease. He pays nothing at the house. He has NO RIGHT to be there.

So for years now, I have been his main scape goat. You can ask his family (they will likely agree with him), you can ask our mutual friends, you can ask anyone. Why did their marrage fail? ME. That is always his answer. For years I have taken this with no one defending me. For years I have been the bad guy who only wants to defend her mother. For years I have suffered. I don’t mean to be dramatic at all, but I have suffered. SOOO many of my adult decisions have been based on protecting my mother. Moving home, when and where to get married, why I felt I needed to get married, what house we rent, where we might buy a house and how much room there will be for my mother, where my sister should go to college, trips home from college and on and on… all had to do with my mother. I always had my mother in mind and all the what ifs of her life with my step father… what if he dies from his liver failure or his Diabetes? What if he dies in a wreak (that is becoming more of a ‘when’)? What if he kills someone else and they sue? What if he doesn’t pay the house payment and they lose the house? What if he gets arrested again and goes to jail? What if he gets fired (that one happened)? What if he kills my mom? What if he shoots her and then shoots himself with all the guns he has in the house? What if he kills me (I actually slept in fear for a long time thinking this… to the point that I boobie trapped my door)? The list goes on and on. Is this fair?

So of course, now my mother and I are at odds because I don’t understand why no one is standing up for my sister and I? Why is this the way we have to live? Why do I always have to be the bad guy? How long do I have to be the one to blame? Why is it held against me for moving away? How on earth can it be said that I don’t care??????? I don’t understand. When does it end? Does it?

That is a lot of questions, I know… I don’t even really know what I’m even asking… I guess I am open to advice. I would love to know that I am not crazy. That I haven’t lived my life wrong. That I haven’t made all the wrong decisions because I make them with my family in mind. That I’m going to get my own life someday…

I don’t know where to go next…