The Epicenter Of His Bad Behavior

Last night was interesting.

Randy had a college friend come for an overnight visit last night. He doesn’t see this friend often but when he does, they’re going to fucking act up.

I had to have a talk with my beloved a few days before the visit.

Me: You know how we’ve been together for all these years and I’ve rarely put my foot down over something?

Randy, looking like he suspected a trap: Yeah?

Me: Well, I’m putting my foot down. I’m putting that shine up. Y’all aren’t drinking it.

Randy, raising his eyebrows: We’ll drink it if we want.

Me: You and the epicenter of your bad behavior won’t be drinking moonshine. 

Randy: I’m getting the glasses out now. 

Me: Yeah…no. No, you will not be having any.

Randy: Okay. 

To their credit, they mostly behaved in a civilized manner. Well, if we can consider Randy’s normal, not-drunk behavior civilized.

If you read my last blog post, then you know that I’ve been ill. I’m getting better, but far from okay. I even had to cancel my reading at Indy Reads Books tonight and I’m so fucking pouty about that. I really wanted to go, but I’m still dizzy and shaky and perhaps I don’t want to put myself in position to vomit on a microphone in front of a crowd.

Oh god…unless that’s my thing now? I mean, I had an audience last week when I puked. Maybe I’m learning something new about myself. 

Anyway, I’m not feeling well and I had to make sure two 55 year old men didn’t act like fools all night long.

At one point, Randy drunk dialed people. My husband turned into a woo woo girl.

I did get to take the phone over when he got to his sister on his contacts list. Just hearing Randy’s baby sister’s voice makes me feel grounded. After dealing with being poisoned by my own medicine, it felt good to hear her voice.

I let the festivities continue until just after midnight. They were singing Clash songs and hitting every third or fourth word when I told them I was tired and needed to go to sleep. I only had to use my mom voice twice.

Poor Randy. His head hurts a little this morning.

I will make breakfast for Randy and his friend. I mean, I cook for Joey and his friends when they stay the night, I can do the same for Randy when he has friends sleep over. I’m also looking forward to giving them shit for acting like kids last night.

By ‘make breakfast’ I mean I drove to Dunkin Donuts. 

Actually, Randy’s buddy was a perfect gentlemen. I may have pinned the ‘epicenter of bad behavior’ button on the wrong person.

That’s okay with me. I absolutely loved watching my husband have fun. It thrills my heart to see him happy. I love it when we visit with friends or people come here and he visibly relaxes. And laughs. Randy can be a tough nut to crack. He doesn’t laugh easy. Although, get an old friend around, or when we go to the mountains or with his family and I’ve seen him laugh until he cries. For all that is holy, one of these days I will have to tell you guys the story about him and his sister laughing over ‘potato chip ears’. I thought they were both going to have strokes.

Randy is my foil here. Well, not just here, I don’t just hang shit on Randy on this blog, I do it in real life, too. He reciprocates. This is very often how we say ‘I love you’ to each other. Even though he is my foil, I am never really aggravated with him. And that is very nearly true!

This summer marks the 20th year we’ve lived together. I feel quite smug because I know how lucky I am to spend my life with someone who still makes my heart skip a beat. I am happy because he is still the first person I want to share all my news with, good or bad. He is my safe place and I am his.

I don’t want to get too mushy…motherfucker will start expecting it.

They also didn’t touch the moonshine.


26 Thoughts.

  1. “By ‘make breakfast’ I mean I drove to Dunkin Donuts. ”

    We have very similar breakfast making techniques, except I generally buy in bulk and get the doughnuts out of the cupboard. Mornings = evil

    Anyway, I have similar problems when my husband has a particular friend over. Except, instead of singing, they like cranking hubby’s sound system up or “playing original music” on the synthesizer in the basement. By “original music” I mean the same three bars, over and over and over and over and over and…

    You get my drift.

    Either that, or his friend wants me to demonstrate martial arts moves on him. Or he forgets I’m female and corners me like he does his male friends, which never ends well.

    Glad last night wasn’t too terrible for you, though! Hope you keep healing up.

  2. Firstly, I’m sorry you’re still not feeling great, hope that gets sorted quick smart as you need to get your butt back on a stage asap.
    Second, you know we are going to have to do the party on the patio thing at some point, it just has to happen. Got to figure out the small matter of this large expanse of water between us first.
    Third, ‘Dunkin’ Donuts for breakfast’, brilliant!

  3. I’m sorry you’re still not feeling great, but also glad you didn’t throw up over a microphone. I’m sure you’d make it look amazing, but it wouldn’t be nice to the others unless you were the closing act. Although I guess if you did throw up over the microphone that would end the evening for everybody. What I’m getting at is that if you do go to a reading and feel like you’re going to throw up tell the moderator “Put me far down on the list.”

    And happy 20th anniversary to you and Randy. You’ve done a wonderful job of summing up in just a few words here why y’all are still together.

  4. While I’ve never thrown up on a microphone, I did get the shit shocked out of me by one once. I stepped up to it to sing my backup part, and before I could sing anything, a blue spark jumped between the mic and my lip, and all of the sudden I didn’t know where I was, what I was supposed to be doing, or what this wooden thing strapped around my neck was for. Apparently it made a loud, amusing noise, though, as people started yelling and clapping about it. Once my memory came back I did OK, but I didn’t try to sing any more backups that day.
    Hope you are feeling better really soon, and moonshine? Bad juju.

  5. “He is my safe place and I am his”. Nice.

    My fella and his peeps passed a mason jar of 25 year old shine and drank from the (very) rusty, crusty top.

    Boys can be so yucky 🙂

  6. sorry you are still feeling pukey. But I don’t think puking in public is your thing.
    Your thing is making me laugh out loud with lines like
    By ‘make breakfast’ I mean I drove to Dunkin Donuts.

  7. At least Randy didn’t eat a half gallon of Hagen Daz, wash it down with a bottle of peach schnapps, and then email everyone.

    Emails last forever; phone conversations can be forgotten pretty quickly, especially if you wake someone up out a sound sleep. If they call the next day to inquire politely just what in hell that was all about last night, you can just tell them they had a bad dream. You were drooling peacefully into your pillow all night.

    All in all, men still do this kind of stuff better than we do.

    • Trillie…it has passed in blink. I KNOW it’s been decades, it just doesn’t feel like decades. It feels like we JUST got over the ‘getting to know you phase’ and have recently settled into the ‘the is comfortable and it’s fucking awesome’ stage.

  8. That was a good one. Kinda sweet. And no vomit from either of you. Bravo! (I’m whisper-typing in respect to Randy’s head)

  9. Is this like, moonshine moonshine? Brewed in backwoods stills somewhere in Tennessee (or someplace similar)? I was under the impression the moonshine business went out of business when prohibition ended. Apparently, I am very mistaken.

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