Wednesday, January 18, 2006

Jesus walked me home Friday night...

Vanessa here...

Well, let me tell you, oh devoted readers of my adventures, after the week I had last week, I was due. Due for some busting loose. Due for some fun. Due for a rip-roaring time.

Griz and I went out after work on Friday for "a couple of drinks." Three glasses of wine at the first bar, then three at the next bar and another three at the third bar...well, you can guess what Vanessa Virtue was like:

Yep...that was me...sideways.

It started out just fine. A couple of glasses of wine. Then, Griz started flirting with these two guys who work downtown in the financial district. They were wicked cute and sort of knew it, but they chatted with us. They were headed to another bar, so we paid up and followed along with them. We got one of the last tables at the next place where we were joined by a married couple friends of one them and two more guys they work with. Griz and I couldn't have asked for more attention. And with attention comes the buying of more drinks. And I'm just a girl who can't say no.

One of their friends was amazingly handsome. Like, scary handsome. You know what I you're afraid to talk to him for fear that he'll look at you, mere mortal, and scoff at you. But he was totally sweet. We're talking he could be an Abercrombie and Fitch model. So, every woman in the place is looking at Mr. Mass of Muscles. They're watching him and trying to get his attention. It's like cats in heat. But Mr. M of M comes and sits next to me...

Mr. M of M: There seem to be more women than men here tonight.

VV: Seems that would work to your advantage.

Mr. M of M: They seem to be circling. I feel like I keep talking to the same ones. I don't know if they're interested.

VV: Can't you tell when a girl's interested?

Mr. M of M: Well, I've had girlfriends, obviously, but these women...I don't know.

VV: She was leaning into you, boobs forward, hips cocked towards you, listening to what you were saying, tossing her hair, batting her eyelashes. Those are all signs.

Mr. M of M: Really? Those are the signs?

VV: Signs that a woman is interested. She leans, she adjusts your way, she brushes against you, finds ways to touch you.

(Of course, as I'm explaining this, I demonstrate by doing all of these things.)

Mr. M of M: Really? I never knew that. So, you think they're really interested in me?

VV: Ummm...hello. Have you ever looked in a mirror?

Well, the cutest smile just danced across his face. I'm thinking he's going to ditch the Sarah Jessica Wannabe hanging by the bar and maybe stay with me, but instead, he pats me on the back, thanks me and returns to her. Griz told me she thought they left together. Great. Way to go VV. Prep him for someone else.

So, seeing how the good looking guy left the building, I decided to drink a little more.

I don't remember leaving. Griz got up to go pee at some point and I was just sitting there thinking how late it was and that I needed to catch the train back to Cambridge before it stopped running, so I gathered my things and picked my way out of the bar.

Out in the night air, I remember someone asking me if I needed a cab and I promptly laughed him off. Then, I weaved like a classic drunk three blocks to the T. Not only did I make it walking down the street (alone!) that late at night, but I actually managed to get my T pass through the slot and get on the train going in the right direction. And, if that weren't miracle enough, I changed from the green line to the red line AND get on it the right way. Unfreakingbelievable! I don't remember any of it. Any. Of. It.

I made so much noise coming in that Mr. Paulsen, my pain in the ass landlord, came down the stairs to see what was going on. Thank God, William was there and ran interference for me. He told me I wouldn't shut up talking and was laughing and prattling on. When I told him everything, he said, "Jesus must have seen you home. God tends to take care of drunks."

If that's the case, then praise be!

I almost feel like I'm too old to behave like that, but it was a good time.

Oh, and Griz called Saturday morning to 1) curse me out for leaving her, but, 2) be relieved that I wasn't dead in a ditch somewhere...not that there are any ditches in Boston, but then again, she's from South Carolina, so I allow her the analogy.

Have you ever done this? Gotten so stinking blotto'd polluted that you don't even remember getting home? Come on...share your great drunk stories!

Hang loose,
Double Vee


Anonymous j said...

'bout time you posted something! glad to see you made it home in one piece. and yes, guys are that oblivious to the "signs."

8:56 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

That was really dangerous and irresponsible of you to walk alone in a city that late at night - drunk, too. You could have been arrested for public drunkenness or worse, raped, murdered, stabbed, robbed. Course, you wouldn't have even felt it. Shame on you. You know better than that.

10:25 AM  
Blogger Vanessa Virtue said...

Mom? Is that you?


10:27 AM  

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