Okay, so officially, there are three glaring consistencies in my blog: my friends and I drink a lot, Mandy falls a lot, and Vincent is a crazy person. That being the case, I would be remiss to not blog about a night a while ago when these three facts came together in a maelstrom of mayhem. Somebody cue the doom music because it was one of THOSE nights. Also, to alleviate some confusion, you should be forewarned that Vincent had gotten rid of the crazy beard and long hair. Anyway....
It all started when a certain beloved and missed Teri came into town. Teri bailed out on us to live in the Virgin Islands a few years ago, which I really don't understand because, obviously, Columbus is totally comparable to beaches, beautiful sunsets, and boozin' it up in Paradise year round. If you're reading this, and I'm assuming you are (because otherwise you've psychically channeled my thought process, and that's just scary, so cut that shit out), pause to glare at Teri for a moment. Okay. I feel better now. AAAANYWAY, Teri was in town for the first time since forever, so we went downtown to celebrate.
It was all the normal fun and games until Rachel showed up. Now normally when Rachel shows up, she starts buying massive rounds of Jaeger, everyone gets trashed, and we all hate her the next day because odds are good you don't remember what you did, and you can't figure out whose shirt you're wearing or why there's a new entry in your cell phone labeled "Tasty Zebra Balls." As crazy as that can get, I'm prepared for that. I wasn't prepared for Rachel to say she wasn't going to drink that night. At all. Personally, I believe this defies nature, kind of like gravity saying, "Oh, I'll just be taking the day off. Float around at your leisure!" Therefore, I blame Rachel. For what, you ask? Well, for starters, I blame her for the creepy guy hitting on Ric. He started out as mildly irritating but somewhat humorous, so we tolerated him for a while. Then mildly irritating turned into worthy of being shot with a bazooka, and Rachel started teaching lessons to me and Mandy on how to glare at annoying people appropriately so that they'll leave you alone.
Okay, so that last part is what I *imagine* she was thinking. Amazingly enough, she somehow manages to not say such things aloud. But back to the story, while Rachel's attempting to train us, poor Ric's getting molested. And he wasn't even smiling at the guy! Eventually, the creeper got thrown out, but Ric has a new-found paranoia of men who stand or sit too close to him, particularly if they're rubbing their nipples and licking their fingers.
I don't even know if you could call it a fall, really. It was more like she was just walking along then suddenly decided to drop to her knees. Maybe the Holy Spirit moved her. Maybe she has a secret aversion to knee skin. Maybe there was a four hour delay before she realized that Rachel didn't drink at all that night. Yup, I'm still blaming Rachel. Whatever it was, Mandy was bleeding, so I figured it might be a good idea to clean her up so she didn't bleed all over everything. For some reason, this annoyed Vincent.
It really is best to just play along with Vincent when he gets demanding, especially since he chills out pretty quickly, so we all had a drink. This...was a bad idea. The next half hour pretty much goes like this:
Sierra the Cat looks on from the bedroom with obvious disdain. Teri takes her cue from the cat and decides it's time to roll, so she asks Vincent to walk her back to her car at the bar so she can head out. I kid you not, Vincent grabs a pocketknife for protection just in case, walks out the door, locks it, a minute passes, then Vincent knocks on his own door asking us if we've seen his keys. I skip trying to explain to him that if he locked himself out, he HAS to have his keys (which were in his pocket), he informs me that Windex is great for stain removal (which I take as a hint to clean the hallway), and they're off. I alternate between cleaning the carpet and laughing hysterically at Mandy because all that's visible of her from the bathroom is her calves and her shoes, which are, well...
See what I mean? The Wizard of Oz will seriously never be the same for me, and yes, I did draw rainbow barf again. It's a hoark of a different color. So yeah, Mandy and Ric are both passed out, Vincent returns, and since we have nothing better to do, we watch a Three Stooges movie, which was hilarious about 30% for the movie and 70% because Vincent was giggling at it like a little girl. Apparently something in We Want Our Mummy inspired Vincent, and he goes and grabs an air pump and what appeared to be an air mattress but according to Vincent was "a fuckin' floaty thing. Why you gotta ask so many fuckin' questions?" Undeterred, I asked him why he was inflating the fuckin' floaty thing.
Folks, if I've learned anything in the years I've known Vincent, it's that you can't argue with awesome. As much as I would've loved to observe the spectacle of Vincent floating around in the dark getting a tan, Ric and Mandy both woke up right about then. Vincent passed out a round of water bottles, Mandy remarked that the water was delicious, somehow someone misheard "water" as "balls" so the next ten minutes was spent cracking up over how Vincent's balls were the most amazing thing any of us had tasted ever in the history of everdom. Well, we were cracking up. Vincent, however, was still diligently inflating his fuckin' floaty thing and mumbling to himself about how awesome his tan was going to be. We left, slept for a couple of hours, then took Mandy back to her car. Coincidentally, Vincent texted while we were in the car.
Guess she was a bad witch...
