The Fairly Odd Mother

I am positively giddy for tomorrow night.

We have been invited to a “wine tasting” party within walking distance of our home, which means: no need for a designated driver! Also, my mom has offered to stay over at our house, which means: no babysitter charging $10 an hour!

Sadly, I have become a wimp at drinking. One-half a glass of wine, and I feel tipsy. Two glasses of wine, and I had better be wearing flat shoes. Anything more than that, and I will be seriously hurting Saturday morning.

And Saturday afternoon.

And Saturday night.

I think wistfully of my college days when a hangover would last a couple of hours. Now, it could be days before I feel better.

But, before I partake in an evening of wassailing, I will leave you with the image from my youth. The year was 1994, and the cute little brunette by my side is my sister. We have just returned from a night out-and-about in the city of Boston, and are crashing for the night at the (God-knows-what-has-been-on-this-couch) apartment of a few guy friends.

I wonder how those tights would play in the suburbs?

(you can find this on a t-shirt here)

A long, long time ago, Mary Alice tagged me for a meme about my most memorable nights. This tag happened so long ago, I can no longer find Mary Alice’s original post to see what the heck I am supposed to do. But, I am not a slacker! Procrastinator? Yeah, but no slacker!

So here goes: Fairly Odd Mother’s Most Memorable Nights, Part I:

The Year: early 80’s

The Age: 16ish

I was young and ridiculous. So with three other young and ridiculous friends, we decided to really act up and STAY OUT ALL NIGHT LONG! Woo hoo! We were twits.

My accomplices were as follows: 1) a dear childhood friend who was flirting with the wilder side of high school life; 2) a sweet and innocent friend who always told her mom the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth; 3) our “new” friend who had a tough older sister (the kind that smoked, swore and got into lots of fights); this new friend also had an older boyfriend—about 35 (gag!), who owned a nightclub in the nearby city.

We were four women on a mission—-kind of like ‘Sex and the City’ without the sex, or ‘Desperate Housewives’ without the hot housewives.

Upon arriving at the club, we ran up to the bar where I committed a major sin of underage drinking.

Bartender: “What can I get you?”

Me: “A beer.” (phew, I did it!!!!)

Bartender: “What kind?”

Me: (what kind?!?!? trick question!!!) “Oh (trying to be nonchalant), just a beer–any kind.”

I’m pretty sure he poured me a glass of urine.

My girlfriends were so much more sophisticated, as they ordered Sloe Gin Fizzes, the drink only consumed by girls under the age of 18. They should just handcuff anyone who orders this drink because you cannot possibly be 21 and ordering this stuff.

I don’t recall much about the bar itself other than the noise of the music and the feeling of being w-a-y out of my league. I was not a ‘hip’ 16 year old who had seen the world. I was wide-eyed and dazzled and confused.

Our friend with the much older (cough—molester—cough) boyfriend disappeared into the back of the bar for quite a while.

When we finally left the bar, it was late, but not late enough. Since we had all told our parents we were sleeping at someone else’s house, we now had to stay out all. . .night. . .long. This sounds so much more fun at 7pm than at 2am.

We first went to an all-night diner for pancakes and eggs. Then, we drove around for a while until we were tired and cranky. That was when we pulled into the back of an apartment complex, lowered the seat backs and covered ourselves with some blankets from the trunk of the car—it was winter, and it was cold (what were we thinking??)—and went to sleep. . .until 6am, when the sun woke us, and we made our way to McDonald’s until it was late enough to head home.

Did we ever get caught lying to our parents? Well, the ‘new’ friend’s sister found out about her sister’s way-too-old boyfriend and threatened each of us with bodily harm if we ever helped arrange another rendezvous (hey, I went for the beer!). Then, my sweet-and-innocent friend broke down and told her mother everything.

But, me? I never confessed to my parents. But, I did learn how to order a beer in a bar, and never again slept all night in a car.

And, now, as a parent, I know to ALWAYS call the house where my children are supposedly sleeping, just to check.

Red, Red Wine

Oh What a Night. . .

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