Rachel’s Slice:
I can’t let Dial-up stop me! Summer vacation indeed, I haven’t felt like writing at all. Or using my brain in any capable capacity other than to come up with amazing craft projects for the various theme weeks at work, Argh! Oh the July heat-wave we’ve been having seems to have fried my decision making abilities. But let’s get back to something interesting first, huh?
The Broman and I finally accomplished a feat I had seen coming for some time now: we attended the same party. Of course we didn’t talk to each other for more than two seconds and ended up doing more glaring and obvious evasion of the other. But, he did end up asking for a ride home from my sober ass, and then proceeded to ask me inside since his parents were out of town. So, finally Charlee got to meet the Broman in all his drunken asshole glory.
Well, to make matters worse, two minutes after crawling into bed to cuddle with his near naked-self, he informs me that he is going to be sick. I care about him a lot, so of course I stayed and made sure he was okay. I fetched him glasses of water, used a damp washcloth to wipe away his Rum-sweat and basically helped to peel his drunk-ass off the bathroom floor. I kept telling him he needed to sit up and go to bed, and he finally looked at me with the most excruciating sad-face and said, “Baby, I’m sorry!” and when I asked why he replied, “Because I’m not listening to you very well.” There’s a part of me that can’t help but be a little bit in love with this kid despite my efforts not to be.
But when the next weekend rolled around and a classy cocktail party was being held, I was not so much feeling the love for this guy at all. I was dressed to kill, and for some god awful reason decided to make myself multiple drinks in order to sample all of the various alcohols on the kitchen table. I was drunk by 9:30, texting my co-worker of all people about my blue tongue(Blue Hawaiians, how I love you). Broman didn’t talk to me at all, and I felt like if he didn’t even want to talk to me when I looked my best, then what did he want from me anyway? At one point, the Broman and I were texting back and forth from across the same room and decided against talking to each other while we were within ten feet from each other. Instead I said all I wanted to do was make out with him, so we set up a rendezvous for the bottom back deck of the house. I was too drunk to even accomplish this, since as we were walking down stairs to meet up and suck face, I thought he was going out to meet someone else since of course I wasn’t good enough for him(Damn low-self esteem). So I went inside, and then bitched at him when he told me he was leaving. I have never been the drunken bitch, and plan not to be ever again. Dearest readers, this was not one of my stellar moments. The hangover I had the next day more than made up for things. Just rewards indeed for this hungover waif.
I have now been to both of Mercer Island’s fine drinking establishments! I’ve been putting in some *ahem* over-time and have yet to get home from work by 8 a single night this week. Well, except for tonight since I booked out early to get ready for girls’ night. Is it a bad thing that my work life has begun to blend in to my social life? Or would you call that the ideal situation? There’s one thing for sure though—I have finally been pegged as a guy with-his-shit-together’s type! His literal words: “Well, you know my type,” then he motioned from my head to my toes and raised his eyebrow in a “come-hither” kind of way. Maybe there’s hope for me not to be an asshole magnet for the rest of my life. We’ll see how these last few precious moments of July go.
XOXO, Rachel
P.S. I feel like I’ve been cheating on pie—far too many cupcakes have been thrown around lately.
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