I'm Kind of a Shitty Friend

My dear friend, Melissa, and her family were over to visit.  It had been several weeks since we had seen one another, and Melissa was so kind as to bring something along for me. 

“Here,” she said, handing me a plastic shopping bag with a few clothing items in it, “You left these at my house and I washed them for you.”

When I looked inside the bag, I found a pair of my pajama pants and underwear.  “Oh, yeah,” I said, recalling why these items had been left behind, “I’m kind of a shitty friend.   Sorry.”  These were the clothing items I had pissed through while vomiting in her bathroom and stumbling around her hallways in a drunken stupor.  I had just left them lying in a corner.  Yeah, I’m a really shitty friend. 

The night I pissed my pants at Melissa’s had been the evening of the Zombie Pub Crawl.  I don’t believe it is possible for me to attend this event and stay sober -- like, seriously, as impossible as male pregnancy.  Immediately following ZPC, I received a request from a blog follower to post about that evening.  I haven’t done so until now because I maybe – just maybe – don’t remember the majority of the night.  Further, as I didn't confront the Ying Yang Twins about their language this year, as I had done with DMX the year prior, the events didn't seem quite as blog-worthy.

Upon recently having bits of the night recounted to me, however, I am able to state the following: Not only am I kind of a shitty friend; I am kind of a shitty human being.  More importantly, one should not accept successive high-proof shots from old Somalian men.  Yeah, I blame the old man for every stupid thing I said or did that night.

Melissa and I attended ZPC with another wonderful friend, Jessica.   Respectively, we costumed ourselves as Alice in Wonderland, the Queen of Hearts, and the White Queen. When I got together with Jessica not long ago, I told her about the return of my piss pants and my belief that I can be a shitty friend.  Jessica, who is never one to abstain from telling the truth, informed me that I was kind of shitty a few times that night. I did recall, of my own accord, telling a DJ, “If you don’t play my request next, I will rip your fucking balls off. You hear me?  I know I put my request in before those skinny little whores there.”  So, yeah, Jessica was probably right about my behavior that evening. 

I also knew that I had yelled furiously at some man Jessica was talking to, although I could not remember what he said to so infuriate me.  I learned the comment had been, “If Alice doesn’t watch out, someone is going to crawl up her rabbit hole.”  Just in case you didn’t figure out, the rabbit hole he was referring to was my vagina. Yeah.

His comment, though quite disgusting, was warranted as I had passed out on the sidewalk.  Jessica informed me that after he made this comment and pointed out my pathetic, inebriated state, she decided she really ought to check on me.

 “And there I found you,” she said, “just spread eagle on the sidewalk.  ‘I am trying to trip people,’ you whispered and laughed hysterically, clearly amused with yourself.”

When I later asked why I had been lying there alone, as Melissa is certainly not a woman to abandon her friends, Jessica explained that Melissa was talking with two homeless men about the services available at her ministry’s community center. 

“Yeah,” Jessica laughed and rolled her eyes at me, “so there you were trying to trip people while Melissa is trying to get these men a good meal and some warm clothes.”   

Having such a stark contrast of interests pointed out to me, I confess that I can be a real shitty human being.  Compared to Melissa, though, we’re all kind of assholes.  I guess this post, then, is to say thank you to her for being such a kind, generous individual (even though she has since told me, “Oh no; those guys were shifty. They weren’t coming down for the chicken dinner”).  

I also owe a debt of gratitude to Jessica for ensuring no one entered my “rabbit hole.” Thank goodness for friends who love you all the same even when you’re spread eagle on the sidewalk.  

For the record, it may also be unwise to accept shots from strangers in large, bloody rabbit costumes.  Tell your children.