We arrived at five…ordered a few beer and a bite of supper to begin a night of rebel rousing and foolishness. Crazy and I were in the mood to poke fun at each other and giggled to our heart’s delight while awaiting the arrival of a few more friends!
By eleven…two sets of Lamb and Tetford followed by one set of Wreckhouse, several beers and a plate of nachos later…we were done.
And that’s when it happened.
In the crowded bar with multiple pub crawls, wall to wall revellers and folks vying for a place to sit…we stood to leave. Numerous people began edging towards us in the hopes of stealing our much coveted front row seats as we put on our coats and said our goodbyes. While placing one arm in her sleeve and swinging her jacket across her back, a Tampon escaped from Crazy’s pocket, flew into the air while slowly spinning, hit the edge of the table and landed on the floor with a massive thud.
It glowed! Fireworks erupted from the unspeakable item as it spun in circles like the hands of an unwinding clock before finally coming to a standstill…the bleached white perpetrator shining brightly on the beer soaked, dark wood floor…all eyes drawn to the atrocious item that had no business being where it was.
“Hey lady” the handsome gentleman said as he honed in to steal Crazy’s seat before the warmth of her butt, sitting six hours straight, escaped the wood. He tapped her shoulder…a grin stretching across his face as he questioned “that yours” while pointing at the albatross.
Crazy’s face…red from hours of singing in a heated, crowded bar…now redder from the shock and embarrassment of her mismanaged pocket stash…betrayed her. “Oh My God No!” she exclaimed…too mortified to do anything but kick the matter of discomfort under the table…her foot slamming the side of the bench drawing even more attention to the bright white object on the floor as it bounced off the leg of the table landing even closer to the crowd of grave robbers attempting to steal our seats.
Then…in a crazy loud voice as only Crazy can do…she boorishly laughed her response of “It’s not mine it’s HERS!” as she pointed accusingly at me then promptly pushed me out the door proving yet again…how quickly a friend can throw you under the bus, how immature we really are and how absolutely painful your sides become when you laugh that hard…for so very long. Period.
At least the handsome gentlemen now know that you are PRE-MENOPAUSAL and still in the game!
Yikes…does that mean post menopausal’s are out of the game? Guess I’m happy for this final sputter I’m experiencing and maybe hoping it’s not final at all.