llegal, Illegal, Illegal - the three little words you've always dreamed of uttering at the end of a magical night out! Just when I thought the dating universe had aligned to provide me with a simple, meaningless "fun night out", (as a peace offering after January's dating debacle) I was grossly mistaken. Dirty blond hair, turquoise eyes, perfect chiseled features and 6'3' was a combination that was impossible for me to say no to, until now that is :-). Ahhhh "jedd", lovely handsome jedd - I gave him the benefit of the doubt that the red that was lining his beautiful ocean blue eyes was simply from a long hard day of work at the new business he opened but when he ordered a vodka and two beers to start (none of those being mine) something seemed a tad amiss. It didn't take long for Jedd to descend into a drunken stupor the likes of which I have not seen since our days of blackouts, brownouts and the Joshua Tree. He continued to order the trifecta at each order as I nursed my one Riesling, knowing I needed my wits about me to plan my escape. As Jedd continued to stumble back and forth from the bathroom, I realized that his looks were simply not enough to sustain him in the absence of even one, well formulated sentence. As I told him I thought it was time to get the check-he told me I should go, he was going to stay and proceeded to take out his bowl and his little Ziploc of green pot balls in the middle of the restaurant. He then explained to me that he had some drinks and had gotten high before the date. As I put my coat on, the only thing I found myself able to say, repeatedly, was - illegal, illegal, illegal. As Jedd advised me to loosen up on my way out, I closed the night off with one of my favorite dating salutations "give me a call from jail".
UPDATE...
Jedd texted me this morning to apologize and explain that he had shots with co-workers prior to our date, his fault completely and he understands if I hate him.
Jedd is funny, if not delusional.
PROLOGUE
So often we hear of people and their epiphanies: monumental thoughts or events that catapulted each of them into major life changes or successes beyond compare. As an un-inspired writer, I have been waiting for one of those to crash into me for quite some time now. Some event that will get me off of my proverbial ass and make me tell my tales, the way my family and friends have been imploring me to do for years. Up until now… buppkes. No job to get fired from, no relationship to end in heart wrenching despair and no quarter-life crisis; just coasting along in the general mediocrity lane. Ironically – it is actually the pocket-sized dramas, the ones that build upon each other like a child’s awkward, unsteady, Lego building and seem comical from a few days distance but insurmountable at the time, that brought me here. A teeny tiny green gossamer drama, that led me down the drain and right into my epiphany…
Down The Drain: The Real Story
At least a week had gone by wherein my bathtub was seemingly having some type of drainage problem. Nothing egregious at first, only about an extra 10 minutes for the water to go down but that 10 min. quickly crescendoed to about 12 hours. I tried everything at my disposal, a full bottle of professional strength Drano Max, internal/external plunging sessions (with rain boots during high tide) and a faux “snake” but to no avail. As much as I hated to acquiesce, the time had come to call in the reinforcements a.k.a. handyman. As I am of the belief that I can do everything on my own or live with it not being done, asking for help is always my last resort. I left word with my doorman and then ran out so I didn’t have to bare witness to my own damsel in distress-iness. When I returned home and asked him if everything went well, my doorman loudly replied, “oh yeah, fine, they found a pair of green underwear in there – they may have to tell the building manager”. I wasn’t quite sure which aspect of this was most disturbing: the fact that the entire lobby now knew I occasionally wash my delicates by hand, that I may get in trouble for this or that I was such a bad “mother” to my garments that I didn’t even know one of my favorite underwear had gone missing. To add insult to injury, when I called the handymen to apologize and find out what became of my underwear he explained to me that he had it in the office because he needed it as evidence. EVIDENCE! My green thong, who did nothing bad to anyone, was being held ransom. People’s reactions varied from amusement to anger, I however, was more awe struck by the idea that green underwear were once again destined to play a significant role in my life. They were there the first time I "cleared the bases" (not the same pair) and now they would be the impetus for my epiphany. They are the raison d’etre behind this blog. I miss them still, but it gets easier everyday…
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