A New Year's Eve Warning

We've all done it at some point. Called up a friend or an ex or a significant other while completely wasted. The thing is, sometimes you leave evidence. Sometimes you get the voice mail or the answering machine and your better judgement who was sitting next to you three drinks ago is now passed out on the floor so you leave a message. Everyone else is going to warn you about drunk driving but not me, I assume my readers know better. I'm here to warn you off of the phone this New Year's Eve and I'll do it with these two stories: Only once before had this happened to me and it was a doozie. At a party at a friend's house, the first time I had been out to really have a good time since my son was born, my friends made it their mission to get me so blitzed I didn't even know what country I was in. After several rounds of a drinking game and an entire bottle of tequila between the six of us, I called Red Todd Kidd to tell him I wasn't going to make it home (the designated driver had literally had tequila poured down his throat Tijuana style) and could not figure out why he didn't pick up the phone. You see I called his work number. I actually left an incoherant message while someone whom I'd nicknamed Paddy McMick (I had jumped him into my gang* and that was his gang name, it's another story for another day) was singing Tura Lura Lural at the top of his lungs in the background. I have no idea what I said in this message but true to his awesome nature, Red Todd Kidd has never given me a hard time about the incident. I however, have never stopped giving a hard time to The Single Letter (the planned designated driver) over his two famous quotes** of the night, or the fact that when we did leave the next morning I had to drive. My second drunk dialing incident happened in November at Edina's birthday party (you may know her as belely from the knittyboard). We were out at a restaurant and ended up waiting for several hours for everyone to show up, by which point we had had many drinks and no food. Edina had had twice as many drinks as anyone else since it was her birthday we were all ordering them for her. It began to look like she wasn't going to make it through the party. So we started a pool on when she was going to lose it, and by "it" I mean her lovely dinner of tequila and whatever that peach stuff was. Right now I know you're thinking, "So that's what she's like in real life, what a bitch!" Well, yeah kinda, but it was all in fun and I rarely go out like this so cut me some slack. Anyway, a few days later I check my voicemail and I get this message: Later on when Edina asks why she took a picture of Lucky*** it's because she said, "This is a picture of Lucky losing," after she threw _____ at him because we took bets on when she was going to throw up and he said she owed him ____ [expletive deleted] dollars and [expletive deleted] Napolean _________ [expletive deleted] ___________ and now I've drunk dialed myself. At first I'm baffled as to who the hell it is and the third time through the message I realize it's me. It took four more run throughs to figure out what the heck I was saying. Then I had to call up Edina and tell her about it so we could laugh our asses off. I don't know if the message would be funnier or less funny without the garbled indechipherable sections but without a CSI unit to enhance the recording, I'll never know. I've been waiting to tell this story until Edina sent me the picture in question but I'm beginning to think she never will so I'm just going to post this with old pictures of the persons in question (the ones I chose are one of Edina and Red Todd Kidd from like two years ago because it's cute and one of Lucky with Darth and Lola Beans because it will make you wonder why I let him around the kids, it kinda looks like Lola is flipping him off, and lastly because my first pair of hand knitted socks ever are in the pic) and update you with the real pics (and a bonus pic of Lucky wearing his boxers outside his pants a la Madonna from last weekend) when I finally get them. Because I'm sure they'll be hilarious. *In high school a friend of mine declared that I was the leader of a gang. She called this gang Sarah's Gang or SG. She ran around for a long time punching people and telling them they had been jumped into my gang and then giving them rediculous gang names. Years later Edina and I revived this tradition just for the hell of it at a party one night. It went on for another two years after that. ** Quote 1: Not my boots! Without my boots how can I be southern!? Quote 2: Roll me over, that's how Hendrix went out! ***The heretofore only unnicknamed member of my real life friends, has now been dubbed Lucky Champagne for blogging purposes due to his penchant for Lucky cigarettes and Miller High Life. I know it's a lame nickname but that's why it works.