Typical Tuesday night

I went home to a house full of ladies last night. 10? 8? Something like that. Counting is hard.

They were all in the war room, discussing. Getting excited about... things. Planning and learning to use chop sticks. I dropped a couple bottles of wine on the table and tried (and failed) not to distract anyone from their meeting.

Later, most everyone had gone to wherever ladies go when they leave our home. There were four of us left. Drinking, smoking too many cigarettes, laughing, sharing stories. We were on the back porch and someone in the apartment complex next door shooshed us.

It was kind of a loud shoosh. Then, the neighbor from just upstairs came near his window and I asked if we were being too noisy - he said we weren't. Cool, so we kept chatting, giggling.

And then. Regis (my pup) went apeshit and ran toward the front door. Which means that either someone was knocking or he thought someone was within a block of our home. My roommate went to see who was there while the rest of us remained on the porch.

She was gone for a few minutes and honestly, I forgot about the possible late night visitor. Until I walked into the kitchen and caught a glimpse of my roommate holding Regis and talking to a gorgeous man at the door. A police kind of man.

Someone called the cops on us for being too noisy. Likely the shoosher.

I sat my glass of wine down and went to investigate at the door. My roommate was just asking Officer Hotness what time it was (noise curfew?). He answered 11:30pm. Pretty serious. Of course, they had already confirmed that there were only 4 people present and that he couldn't hear a thing when he walked up. But he's bound by duty to investigate a call.

I am bound by nature to ask him if he has a girlfriend. And then (un)kindly mention that I don't want to talk to him anymore when he says he does. We - all four of us girls and O.H. chatted about our project and planning, he told us about his sister, and he pet Regis.

So thank you, crankypants shoosher. Made my night much more rad.

Stoopid week

My week started off badly. Sunday night/Monday morning will go down in the history books of Tabbie for all time as one of the top 10 strangest experiences of my life.

Drinking turns some people into completely psychotic dick noses. I'm not going to go into details here because it's too much to put into writing. Maybe someday when we're sharing our 3rd bottle of champagne (or cap classique) of the night, I'll tell you the story. By then, it will be light-hearted and I'll toss in all of the things that make me giggle about it. I'll leave out the parts where I was afraid for my safety and the part where I thought a friend of mine was for sure about to produce a monstrous amount of puke and/or get arrested in Nevada.

After that night, my week got worse. The drunky drunk friend let some information slip that shouldn't have gotten out. Another friend of mine got her feelings hurt. I hate to see my friends hurting.

HATE it.

But there was really not much I could do about this. So I just sent out a warning signal to the other people involved in the mess that there was, in fact, a mess. And I backed off.

Now, I'm not sure where to turn next. It's like my ability to process friendship information is broken. I love every one of the people involved in this icky mess, but they don't love each other.

People I love are being mean to each other. I HATE this.

Also, there's no goddamned clock on this computer screen. It's some kind of bullshit when I can't even use a computer screen to tell the goddammned time. Fuck you, screen.

Wait. It's not the screen's fault that I'm pissed. Still, I hate this stoopid, worthless screen.

Indicators of sleeplesness

Today, I am considering the need for friends.

So much of the time, I feel like having friends is more of a hassle than its worth. Friends hold me accountable to things. Being there for them during happy and sad times. Showing up to events that they give a shit about.

I didn't invite anyone to my own freaking wedding, for serious. Why do I have to show up to yours?

A few of my friends are super people-lovers. They often tell me- oh, you have to meet so and so. You'll love them!
And all I can think is- probably not. I'm chatty and friendly with people I meet generally, but it's not like I want to meet them for drinks later just to chat. I love talking to people and laughing and hearing their stories, but fuck. Then they want me to schlep out to their kid's party on a weekend when I could be vegging out, reading Odd Thomas.

But then. Then I remember that most of my good friends are incredible people. They hug me and ply me with xanex and wine when I'm broken and crying my eyes out. They take me on adventures and hand me toddlers to swing around with on dance floors at their birthday parties. They drop everything and take trips into wine country with me to play with cheetahs. And sometimes they even applaud after incredible singing of karaoke in their living rooms.

So I'll keep being friends with people for now. These ones are worth it, at least.

I fucking need a nap.