My "Canadian Friends"
Remember when I noted my bout of drunkeness at the writing retreat? Well, my sister told my dad. My dad told my mother, and I got a phone call asking how my trip to Canada was.
After a period of time, my mother nerved herself up to broach the subject, and said, "So I hear you had a fun time with your Canadian friends."
Me, clueless: Yeah, pretty good time.
Mom: I heard you were up to some....interesting escapades with those "Canadian friends."
Me, wracking my brain and wondering if you can call writing every day in your room an interesting escapade: I guess I wrote a lot.
Mom: That's not what I heard. I heard you got in a little bit of trouble with your "Canadian friends."
Me, imagining Dave and Laurie and Peter and Sara: Um, no, not really.
Mom: You were talking a bit oddly with your "Canadian friends."
Me (things are starting to dawn): Mom, what Canadian friends are you talking about?
Me: Oooooooohhhhh. (pause) There was no rum. (ed: This is strictly true.) There was Baileys and port. (ed: No, not in the same glass. Ick. Peter saved that experiment for later in the week, and man, was THAT vile.)
Mom: Uh huh.
Me: There were no escapades. I drank a lot of water and was sleepy. That's all that happened.
Mom: That's not what I heard.
Me: And I called a few people. But really, I had a lot of water and nothing happened.
Mom: (very skeptical) You were pretty plastered from all reports.
Me: I threw up a little.
Mom: I worry about you.
Me: Well, I haven't done it since. (ed: Also true.)
Mom: Well, I hope you've learned your lesson.
Me: I think so. (ed: Lesson learned. Don't drunk-dial your sister who will then fink on you to the 'rents. I called Rachel up and she confessed mentioning it to Dad in a conversation about learning from other people's mistakes. Woo hoo. And the family--or at least the older generation--remains convinced that my life outside of Utah is a drunken debauched swirl of hedonistic revelry and sin! I said to Rachel, "You know I don't drink very much." Rachel, innocently, "Yes, I don't know where Mom gets her ideas.")
Anyway, that's going into Lis's new book of parental euphemisms. "Canadian friends." It's not like what I was drinking was even particularly Canadian, except for being bought at a Canadian liquor store. Head-meets-desk.
I mean, this is the second time in my life I've drunk enough to throw up. The first time was in San Francisco, while I was dating Lee, and we were staying at Merrick's. Two times in six years I've been THAT drunk. Yeah. Woo. Raging alcoholic here.