ed

Going to the beach yesterday was awesome (made possible bymrsmeadand the letter Q...the former being much cooler)...I ended up wading a bit in my stupid underwear which resulted in a very sandy ass...silly beach sand.

It was a good day, that be for sure.

So I did something terrible, yet terribly funny. Please don't hate all girls from my one bout of evil.

Today, doing a good portion of my 10 hours of hell, I hung out with Danielle (yes, she's the one dating Jeff) and we figured out this whole silk-screening business. She made some kick-ass t-shirts.

We find a lull in the conversation for a while, and we can't recall who, but one of us comes up with the idea to get into a fake fight when Jeff comes home from work. And for some reason of unspeakable evil, it appeals to us. And then we decide to enhance it with fake black eyes.

Soooo...about two hours before he gets home, we whip out my giant compact (not so compact) of cheap eye shadow and give ourselves really horrendous bruisers. Trust me, fake bruises will be the next in thing. I will make sure of it, and hopefully somehow make a lot of money out of the idea.

Anyway, we spent a good few hours off and on discussing how we would have gotten in this fight, what portion of it he would witness, and possibly how it would end.

So poor Jeff, calling to let us know he was coming home, hears a deadpan Ed with a shaky-quiet, somber voice assure him yeah, she's okay, uhm...I'll see you when I get home.

And arrives to hear, through the open window, Danielle screaming from the bedroom that she can't believe I just said that, and me screaming that I can't believe she just hit me. SLAM of the bedroom door, and then scuffing and SLAM of the bathroom door (accessible through our bedroom, only). I was screaming for her to get the fuck back out here, open the fucking door, was banging on the door (I banged so hard it actually did open and we had to keep from laughing); she was screaming that I was psychotic, and that she was calling Jeff (which she did, as planned, but he was inside the apartment at that point and didn't answer it).

So there's a tentative knocking on the door from Jeff, since I locked it before I slammed it, and all I can think is...fuck. What do I say now? It's dead quiet for a moment, then I open the door, defeated, and hair mussed, refuse to look Jeff in the eye (I was supposed to be crying, but lacked the tears), mumble that I don't want to talk about it. Collapse in a fit of sobs on the floor, convulsing, just repeatedly mumbling to get her out of the apartment (meanwhile Danielle is screaming that she's not leaving until I apologize, and she can't believe the shit I said), and me just a ball of tears.

So I finally plead, "Just get her out of here; I'll go into Jessica's room, just get her out of the apartment, I'll close the door (opposite ours), please."

I run into the other room and get some water-for-tears out of the sink, rub my eyes a bit while Danielle apparently finally emerges from the other bathroom, fuming, WITH the black eye being the first one Jeff sees, and slowly they head out towards the front door.

Before Danielle can actually be escorted out, though, I crack open Jessica's door a peek, and Jeff finally sees MY black eye...that expression, I apologize for finding, was precious...and then Danielle breaks from his hold and starts marching across the room towards me.

And hugs me as we fall into a fit of giggles.

I know, it was so terrible. But the only guilt I feel, really, is for NOT feeling guilty. It was just so fun, so exhiliratingly ridiculous...Danielle was getting an adrenaline rush five minutes before Jeff even arrived.

We're definitely doing it again. Only, next time in public. Not sure if we'll actually start throwing punches, but having a row would be fantastic. Especially in this tourist season.

"Thank you, thank you...we'll be here till Thursday!"

Okay. Yes. I am horrible. But. Fuckit!