Halfway to 29

Today’s my half-birthday.  Yes, I still celebrate it.  It started when I was a kid and wanted to be older.  Now, I recognize the hump-day of each year of my life.  It’s all downhill from here, folks.

My actual birthday every year sucks.  Chamuca’s Birthday Party 2009 was no different.

My birthday was on a Monday.  Both Lobster and Tomcat have their kids on Monday night, so we couldn’t go out drinking.  So we went out after work on Sunday night instead.

Tomcat still couldn’t come, but Lobster, Kitten and our manager friend, Sabrina, could.  So it was just the 4 of us at The Mill.  Fine by me.

Kitten volunteered to be my DD, because I am hers every year on her birthday.  Actually, I’m the DD most of the time. Or the one who doesn’t drink as much to make sure no one kills themselves.   BUT NOT ON MY BIRTHDAY, BITCHES.  I WAS GETTING WASTED.  FUCK Y’ALL.

So Lobster and I get to the bar first, and I yell to everyone “that it’s my fucking birthday and they need to buy me shots.”  Either from fear of my wrath or desire to jump my bones, many shots are purchased for me.

Kitten and Sabrina show up an hour later and I am already drunk.  Lobster is matching me shot for shot, so he is as well.  I end up falling over outside when trying to come in from smoking.  Lobster has to carry me in.  I yell to the bartender “I’m sorry I’m so drunk.” Way to get yourself cut off, asshat.

Also, anytime anyone disagrees with me or something doesn’t go my way, I stomp my feet on the ground and screech, “You’re ruinin’ mah biiiirthdaaay!!!” I do this every year.

My friends are amused at this point, because they have never seen me this drunk.

We close the bar down.  Sabrina volunteers to drive me home, while Kitten drives Lobster home.  Kitten is in a hurry because she wants to go over to Tomcat’s house, because they’ve just started dating.

Sabrina drops me off and I stumble upstairs to my apartment.  I drop my purse, take all my clothes off at the front door,  and find my bedroom to pass out.

About 5 minutes later, I hear my phone ring.  I have it set to announce who is calling me . . .”Phone call from Lobster” it says.  He knows I’m wasted, so I figure it must be important.

I lurch out of bed and answer my phone.

“I know you’re drunk and all, but Kitten got pulled over.  The cop’s making her walk the line.  Go back to sleep and call me in the morning.  I’ll tell you what happened.”

I hang up and somehow put my phone on silent.  I’m sleeping the fuck in on my birthday.  Fuck Kitten’s drama.

The next morning (noon) I wake up and check my phone.  I have voicemails and texts from my family members wishing me a happy birthday.  I don’t call any of them back.  I call Lobster.

“So what the fuck happened?”

“Right as we turned the corner next to the 7-11, the cop turned his lights on.  She was driving too fast because she was trying to get me home so she could get to Tomcat’s.  And she was driving squirrelly because she always drives squirrelly.”

“True.  She can’t see because of her chinky eyes.“

“I got her to pull over in a legal parking spot so the cop wouldn’t tow her car.  She got out and he made her walk the line and all that DUI stuff.  Then I called you.”

My interpretation of the events.

“Yeah, I was passed out and clotheslined myself on my ironing board trying to get to the phone.”

“So then I dug around in her purse to get Tomcat’s phone number to let him know what’s going on.  The cop put her in handcuffs and put her in the back of the car.”

“No fucking way.  She didn’t have that much to drink.”

“It was apparently enough.  The cop left me with her keys and her car.  I have no idea why.  I was obviously too drunk to drive.”

“Plus, your license is expired.”

[Sidenote:  It's still expired.  I am driving his ass to the DMV tomorrow, because his birthday is in 2 weeks.  If he doesn't do it before then, he'll have to take all the tests again.]

“So then Tomcat showed up and drove me back to my apartment.  Her car is still there.”

“Is she out of jail yet?  Has anyone heard from her?”

“I have no idea.  I haven’t talked to Tomcat.”

So I call Tomcat, but he hasn’t heard from her either.  At this point, she’s been in jail for 12 hours.  He tells me he’s leaving work right now to go over and bail her ass out of jail.

I also call our manager friend, Sabrina, to let her know what’s going on.  Kitten is supposed to work in 2 hours, but obviously is unable to call in for her shift.

I call Lobster back to let him know what’s going on.  While I’m talking to him, I get phone call from a random number.  I switch over to it.

“An inmate in the [Yadda Yadda] County Jail is trying to call you collect.  Your phone is not set up to take collect calls.  If you are this person’s lawyer, please press one to be connected.”

Since I’m not a lawyer, I’m afraid to press one.  I switch back over to Lobster.

“I think Kitten just tried to call me from jail, but my phone won’t take collect calls.”

“Yeah, I think she tried to call me too.  But I didn’t answer since it was a blocked number.”

“Oh wait, she’s calling me again.”

This time, I throw caution to the wind and press one.  What the hell are they going to do to me?  I can claim I don’t speak English.

I get connected through, but there is no one talking.  I only hear background noise.

“Kitten?  Kitten?”

“Chamuuuuuuuuuuuucaaaaaaa?” (as she hysterically cries.)

“Don’t worry, we’ve got everything under control.  Tomcat’s there right now, bailing you out.”

“He iiiiiiiiiiiiis?

“Yeah, and I called Sabrina to get her to cover your shift.”

“I’m sorryyyy I ruined your birthdaaaaaaay!”

“You’re ruinin’ mah birthdaaaaaay!”

“I’m sorryyyyyy!  I told my new jail friends that I ruined your birthdaaaaay!”

“Oh man.  Ok, well Tomcat’s there, so you’ll be out soon.”

“Thank yoooooou!”

As soon as Tomcat drops her off at her car, she drives over to my place to give me the scoop.  She looks like a hot mess.

Kitten’s Felony Facts:

• Her jail friends consisted of a large black woman with bleached hair in a wheelchair, and a tiny Cambodian gangbanger chick.
• The only food she was given was a bologna sandwich.  Kitten’s a vegetarian.
• Her parents failed to register her as a citizen of the US when they adopted her, so she wasn’t in the system.  She had to talk to Immigration and almost got deported back to Korea. This is especially funny because the only words she knows in Korean are doctor, chocolate and Happy New Year.  If she got deported, she decided she’d get a job in a clothing factory and send us messages sewn inside of shoes, so we could come rescue her.
• She tried to call Tomcat and her own brother first, but their phones wouldn’t even acknowledge the calls.  I was her last resort, because she didn’t want to call me on my birthday.
• The police officer who arrested her saw Lobster going through her purse.  He though Lobster was a hitchhiker or something and asked her if she knew him. Kitten told the police officer Lobster must be going through her purse, looking for candy. (The only time he gets in our purses, is to look for candy.  He is like our child.)
• Since I drove to the bar, and was driven home, Kitten was supposed to drive me back to my car the next day.  Since she was in jail and everyone else was at work, at jail bailing her out, or doesn’t have a car, I had to walk 2 miles back to the bar to retrieve my own car, ON MY BIRTHDAY.
• When they arrest you, they take an inventory of all the possessions you are carrying.  This includes all of your money, which they give you a receipt for.  Kitten gave me her receipt and wrote “Happy Birthday, Chamuca!!!  Love, Kitten” on it.  Especially cool, since the timestamp on in is my birthday.  I think it may be the best birthday card I’ve ever received.
• She got arrested again a few months later for driving with a suspended license.  She was driving a car which has no front blinkers and one headlight out.  Retard.

So to commemorate my half-birthday, I am going with her to her last Diversion thingy, an A.A. meeting.  Should make for some interesting stories.