My BFF and platonic life partner FoN is posting the story of FoN vs. The Fucktard Sisters, in which SuperKeely plays a minor role, so I thought I'd take a stroll down Memory Lane too. I used to spend a lot of time drunk and my memory is not fabulous, so I asked her what SHE thought I should post about.
Do you guys have a friend with whom you share 20 years of history? It's awesome. And fucking terrifying, sometimes. She replied immediately with "Are You Dissin' My Man?".
Oh Dear Lord, I know I'm a
heathen atheist, but please give me strength.
This may be a shock to some of you, but I have not always made the best choices in life. I know! Me! I seem so rational!
Anyway, at the time of this incident I was dating a guy I shall dub
Dickhead Cheater Conceited Motherfucker I Wouldn't Cross The Road To Piss On If He Were On Fire Pilot Boy. Pilot Boy and I had plans to attend a weekend music festival in which FoN's husband's band was participating. Obviously, FoN and Valentina and a whole host of other friends were there too. None of them really liked Pilot Boy because he was a manipulative fucker who cheated on me constantly but they tolerated him for my sake.
Since the music festival was being held on a patch of turf that was normally used to grow wheat, we were all camping for the weekend. Some people were lucky or organized enough to bring an RV, but most of us were just pitching tents.
Anyway, Pilot Boy and I eschewed my sensible 4x4 Toyota truck for his vehicle, a Datsun Z, because clearly that is the rational choice while attempting to camp in a muddy field. We pulled into a spot that (unbeknownst to us) would be semi-permanent, and, rather than unpacking our gear and putting up our tent for later, we elected to begin partying post-haste.
Located somewhat close to us were some people who thought themselves above both tents AND Winnebagos. They had arrived in their semi truck. Which, okay, had a sleeper, but apparently no bedding or power or comforts of home whatsoever, because they left the thing running constantly. And they occasionally set off the horn, just to maintain good neighbourly relations. We rolled our eyes a bit, but assumed they would shut off the truck and stop honking the horn once all the music was done and people were ready to pass out.
You know what happens when you assume, right?
The evening pretty much progressed as most evenings did with Pilot Boy; that is to say we both got drunk, he got more asinine and I got more sensitive, we fought the whole time and overreacted and generally made each other miserable. And then, when they stopped serving booze, we realized that we had nowhere to sleep. So at 2am, still yelling at each other, we began a futile attempt to drunkenly and uncooperatively put up a tent. In the dark.
FoN and Valentina came to see what all the yelling was about, and I turned on them, too. I can't remember why but I'm sure I felt justified at the time. Then the evolutionary U-Turns in the semi truck honked their horn and I screamed at them as well. FoN, with typical humour, said something to nicely inform me that I was being an idiot, and defused the whole situation. She didn't do it to save Pilot Boy from my verbal tirade, she did it to save me from myself, because I was tired of yelling.
Also, there may have been people trying to sleep at that point.
So, in better spirits, we kept trying to get the tent set up. The idiots in the semi truck, in a somewhat delayed reaction, yelled "Shut the fuck up!".
Coming from someone that had set off a foghorn moments earlier, this seemed ridiculous, so I jovially hollered back, "Fuck you!", and Pilot Boy and I continued figuring out the tent in the dark, on speaking terms once again.
A few minutes later, a strange guy strolled up and stood next to us, a smirk on his face.
"My girlfriend is going to kick your ass," he informed me smugly.
(I know! I'm sorry for the two-parter. But it's getting really long and I need to confirm a few details with FoN)