As promised, here is part 2 of the holidays with PIC . The evening was great, but it was the antics of one party guest that really made for party stories to last the year.
PIC has a neighbor who is…shall we just say…lewd and crass, and that’s before she crosses over her thinly veiled line between buzzed and hammered. For the purpose of the blog, I will call her Marci.
Marci has E.D.
Ok. I know what you are thinking. E.D. is NOT something any woman could have. Nay. This isn’t THAT. And, please note that I’ve met Marci exactly once before.
PIC: Hey…how long has Marci been in the bathroom?
Me: Um…. at least two songs ago (we were singing karaoke) you think she is sick?
PIC: shrugs and keeps singing Poker Face.
Marci: WOW. You guys! You know what! I have explosive diarrhea. Like….. (Ok. For your sake and mine, I’m going to stop here and leave the detail she gave out. Suffice it to say she was descriptive and it made me hurl a little.)
PIC and Me: exchange mortified looks, stop singing mid Adele.
Marci: GOD that was awful. I mean….
Me: ROLLING IN THE DEEEEEEEPPPPPPP (trying to drown her out)
Marci: What. What’d I say? Like you don’t have that happen to you!
Me: YOU HAD MY HEART AND SOOOOOOULLLLL
PIC to me later: I don’t think I’ve ever used the words explosive diarrhea out loud, especially if the room contained people I’d met once. It makes me uneasy. Let’s just say E.D. instead. I used an entire can of Febreeze in the bathroom.
Me: And that was the least intrusive part of the night….
Marci Hurt My Hand
Marci: POW! she smacks the crap out of PIC’s butt.
Marci: You know you like it. POW!!! Another smack that I could hear across the room
PIC retaliates by smacking Marci’s butt with a karaoke box set of cds.
PIC to me: Ow. I hurt my hand and wrist.
Marci: Oh nice one! Smack it!
I move between PIC and Marci, take a long drink of wine, grab the mike and sing. Marci dives toward PIC and bites her arm.
Marci: You like it. You know it.
PIC and I exchange looks again. I was about to tackle Marci. I didn’t care if she was 50 pounds larger than me. Smack my PIC one more time….she must have read my look, because she settled down….for the moment.
From another room:
OWWWW! WHY GOD WHY?
I turn to see what happened. Marci has fled to the bathroom again. I walk into the room and see a stunned PIC.
PIC: Marci bit me… ON THE ASS.
Me: WHAT?! She already bit your arm!
PIC: I have a bruise from that one already.
Me: What is her problem?
PIC: (with a frown on her sweet face) I don’t know, but she has E.D.
Marci went home shortly after, accompanied by PIC and I. I half drug, half pushed Marci up the hill to her house. Once she was in and PIC and I could return to normal, we rang in the wee hours of 2012 with lots of singing, some more wine, dancing like mad and laughing until my abs hurt the next morning.
At the first breakfast of 2012, PIC and I discussed Marci, her E.D. and her biting problem. And as we looked down at our lovely breakfast….and back up at each other…..we quickly vowed NOT to discuss or bring up the term E.D. again. Ever.
PIC and I resolved that 2012 will be fantastic – filled with epic moments, belly laughs, car dancing, karaoke, wine slushies and blogging. Cheers to 2012 – may it bring you happiness on every level.