Fatties vs. Fogies

Now that you are up to speed on my traumatic childhood, I can get to the vacation details. So it's Saturday morning and I've now had exactly 6 hours of sleep before my big 2.5 mile race. As a fatty, I normally wouldn't roll out of bed for such a short event. I mean, if I'm going to run there needs to be a certain ratio of calories burned to calories consumed that will allow for random binge eating throughout the day. 2.5 miles doesn't even cover liquid gratification. I was still burping up onion rings from the night before and that served as a gentle reminder to get my ass out of bed! My husband stayed in bed as he feels that "watching me run is boring.” Don’t over exert yourself hard charger. Bla Bla...the race went good and was over in exactly 21 minutes. Kudo's to Aunt Kathy for coming through with the Little Debbie’s at the finish! She's kin to Mother. Oh and like Mother, the Little Debbie’s were in the trunk of her car and offered up on an invitation only basis! Love it!

After 21 minutes of hard labor I was looking forward to a nap. Not so much. We had a date at a 50th anniversary party. It was being held at the local VFW. I told you this was Mayberry. So we get there and the first thing I notice is the average age in the room...256! Ok that was the 2nd thing. We all know what I saw first....food! Anyway, if one were a funeral director you could do some heavy prospecting in this room! I looked at my husband and said, "Do you think we'll be married 50 years." True to form he responded, "It's possible." Not a lot of comfort in that statement. I decided to go for a sure bet...the food. I got in line only to discover that the plates were disproportionately small compared to the spread. Could it be that they subscribe to the smaller plate weight loss theory? Doesn't mater. I can carry up to 6 at a time. It's a talent. Now I'm in line behind "Mother, Father Time" and all of their siblings. My Mother always taught me to respect my elders and let them ahead in these situations. Had I followed that nugget of wisdom I'd be the last one to eat....unacceptable! It was on....Fatty vs. Fogies round 1.

After wolfing down 5 or 6 mini plates of food I decided I need something to wash it down. Draft beer was free...sold! In my excitement I failed to notice the man standing by the tap. Had he smiled prior to my decision to get a drink, I may have paid for liquor and gone in another direction. Why you ask? Hmmmm...how can I say this....he had what I call "summer teeth." Ya know sum are here and sum are there. I believe there were more "there" than "here." As hot as I am, his smile only produced 4 that I could see! Scary. He informed me that the tap was producing a lot of head. Hoping that wasn't a sexual innuendo I politely thanked him for the information and quietly hope he'd never smile again!

I get back to the table and like a 2 year old my husband was covered in food. He dumped his beer and his plate of food all over himself. I have no idea how and I was too traumatized to care. I didn't bring the diaper bag so I suggested he have a chat with the toothless wonder and gain back his self esteem. It was mean yet effective. As the day went on I think the head on the tap got better as I downed about 560 cups of beer. What did I have to lose? 99.9% of the crowd was deaf and or blind. It was my moment to shine. At one point it started to get really hot in there. The smell of death was lingering. I was in a pickle. In the next room over there was A/C (not common in my hometown) and in this room there was cake! Cake or Cool? Ugh! I ran over to the next room, cooled off and got back just in time for the cutting of the cake. I wasted no time when the server asked, "Would anyone like a piece of cake?" "I would and I'll take that big one with all of the frosting." I may have elbowed a few elders to get to the cake but they didn't seem upset. I have this cute trick I use to win over the hard of hearing. I mouth words to them as they are looking at me and they get this look of "Wow, I'm really deaf." It's usually followed by a smile and a dash a panic. Good party game. You should try it. The only thing that could top that moment was a quick chat with Aunt Doris. God love her. She's a very sweet lady that doesn't often wash her hair and doesn't have much fashion sense. That's being kind. She proceeded to ask me if I ever watch that show "What Not to Wear". Umm no, but if you tell me that you do I may have a seizure right here on the spot. Yup. Watches it all the time ...yet comes to the party sporting matching plaid from head to toe. Mind boggling and possibly the highlight of my evening.

As usual I over stayed my welcome. The guests of honor were packing up the car so I kindly offered to finish off the keg. Most would offer to help with the packing but I know how to really go above and beyond! In attendance at the informal after party created by me, my old lunch lady from elementary school! Just looking at her brought back the smell of ham patties and tater tots. Maybe it was still lingering in her beehive hairdo. Can't be sure. It was time for a feeding so we headed back to the house to grill out. By this point I was absolutely tanked! Dad and Sean were going to grill out with no help from me. Nope. I had something better to do....

There, in the garage, was my nephews pocket rocket! It stands about knee high and holds up to 200 lbs. Score! At last check I was still less than 200 lbs so why not take it for a spin? Because I'm 35 and drunk was the obvious answer! I had a hard time figuring out how to maneuver my legs so that they wouldn't drag on the ground. Sober this would have been challenging. Drunk it was down right ugly! Finally I decided that riding it on my stomach would work. So there I was, riding around the yard like a super giant on a motorcycle that I could have sucked into my crotch given a deep breath! My mother was setting the picnic table yelling at me to stop, my Dad was laughing and I'm quite sure my husband was calling his attorney. But there was my brother videotaping the whole thing! Gotta love kin! I was giggling and crashing into everything. I was covered head to toe in dirt wearing my Sunday best. Suddenly I was 2 again.

I think I passed out about 9pm. The last thing I remember was my mother reminding me to wash the dirt off my legs before I got into bed. Yes, Mother. Yeah I never did that. I fell asleep in the bed that rolls to the middle. You have to work to stay on the edge. When you are drunk it's just not possible. It's like sleeping in a vagina. You end up in a crease where you lay until you can't get up anymore. Comforting. No Mother I don't need a new bed. All in all a good first night. I felt strangely young. I ran great, I had my teeth, my hearing, my vision and I was intoxicated. How would day two stack up? Stay tuned....