And THIS is why people don't invite me places.

So. I have been.....tired lately.

The fatigue caught up with me last Friday, and that is how it came to be that I found myself asleep in a friends front yard in a floor length peach monstrosity of a dress, and a bonnet, at 3 in the afternoon. (Or thereabouts. I sort of lost track of time, there.....) For several days, little pieces of the story have come together in my fuzzy mind, and I have done my best to record them in a coherent manner. It would probably have been easier had I actually been coherent at the time these events transpired but hey, I have to work with what I've got. To start with, it is important to note that I tend to forget to eat. Or drink. Or pee (though there isn't as much need for that, with the whole no drinking thing). I also threw my back out last week, so I have been taking some medication that makes me even more tired than usual. I am not making excuses, mind you, just giving you a little background on how it all went down. at least, as much as I can remember.

My girlfriends were having a luncheon garden party on 4/20 (turns out that was just a coincidence, but no one told me that until it was much too late). There was a contest for the best outfit, a scavenger hunt and trivia game, and it looked very promising in the food and drink department. "Come hungry!" they instructed. No problem, I'm always hungry. So I skipped breakfast and lunch, arrived 20 minutes late and absolutely starving, and then spent 10 minutes trying to negotiate the gate at the top of the driveway.

First I checked to be sure it did not involve electricity (it didn't) by calling for further instructions because what the fuck, is there a secret password or something? No, my friend explained, no electricity, no code, the taffeta wrapped around the gatepost was hiding the clip that was holding the gate closed. BECAUSE OF COURSE I SHOULD HAVE UNWRAPPED THE TAFFETA.

sidenote: I love everything about gated entries. I aspire to one day have a property that requires (or allows for) a front gate, just so I can fuck with my house guests. (Oh, the gate? I forgot to mention that? Just type in the code. Still no? Well, let me send Jeeves to let you in. YOU SIMPLETON.)

Instead of just leaving my car in the driveway and climbing over the gate, I listened to the instructions as they were relayed to me over the phone, unwrapped the taffeta, found the clasp, unclipped the chain, swung open the gate, drove through the second (springloaded) gate like I was at a car wash, flinching and grimacing as I gingerly pushed it open as instructed with my front bumper, letting it drag across the hood of my car and up over the roof sloooooowly, and then I rolled carefully down the hill on high alert for the roaming equines that necessitated this level of gated security.

I parked on the lawn after checking to make sure it was clear of horses.
And horseshit.

I dragged my prom/bridesmaid thrift store gown from the back of my car, located my bonnet on the floor, and dug out some lipstick in the glove box that was only partly melted. I was ready to party.

But first I had to get changed.

In hindsight, it would have been wise to try on the gown before I bought it, but it seemed long-ish and stretchy, so I took a chance and decided not to try it on until it had been laundered with a significant amount of white vinegar. Turns out it was long enough, but my shoulders were perhaps not as delicate as the previous owner's obviously waif-like frame.

But I made it work.

Okay, NOW I was ready to party. And clearly, I had the prize for best outfit IN THE BAG. I mean, I was wearing a bonnet for crissakes. But when I made my way back outside I realized that I had been the very first guest to arrive. It was now almost 45 minutes past the start time noted on the invitation. My stomach was in knots. Not wanting to appear greedy, I didn't immediately start unwrapping the food on the buffet and shoving it in my mouth - instead, I distracted myself with a cocktail. In retrospect, this was probably not the best idea on an empty stomach. Add to that the cumulative sleep deprivation of raising Dude, and the muscle relaxer I had taken that morning for my back, and things went downhill pretty damn quickly - even for me.

As guests began arriving, I continued distracting myself from the buffet, trying to keep it classy. Which is ridiculous because A. I was dressed like an asshole and B. I could have eaten at any time, this was a group of girlfriends and no one cared if I plated up and dug in.

Within an hour or so (I had no sense of time at this point) I was.......let's just say I was very relaxed. I was so relaxed I was nodding off a little bit. I had finally gotten a plate of food, and now I was sitting in the sunshine. The warm, warm sunshine. Soooo waaarrrrrmmmmmmmm.

For the record, I drank ONE MOJITO. In one of those tiny plastic cocktail cups. But from the way I was slurring, you would think I had just chugged a bottle of tequila. What can I say, I'm a cheap date.

Just when I started to realize that I was actually going to have to find somewhere to nap - because the nap was absolutely unavoidable in my current state - I also realized that the guest list included people I did not know, and their mothers. Their lovely mothers arriving in sundresses and linen for a garden party on a beautiful Friday afternoon were coming face to face with a woman wearing a peach ballgown that was two sizes too small and a bonnet, virtually unconscious, muttering to herself about 420 and eating filet mignon with her fingers.

Classy INDEED.

I was at the stage where I had not only lost all sense of time, but also all control of my limbs. I was just numb. Numb with fatigue, rum, sunshine, food - you name it, I was maxxed out on it. I had to will myself to stand up, having a very unconvincing and fairly disjointed conversation in my head - at least, I hope it was in my head - that went something like: "Your legs still totally work, you just have to open your eyes and stand up. You will not fall down. You will NOT fall down. YOU WILL NOT FALL DOWN."

I made it to the front yard, where I kind of fell down a little bit, but managed to land in a bench swing rocker-type thing. And then I got up and moved to another benchy rockery thing - this one with cushions, and there I proceeded to pass out, smack dab in the middle of the front lawn, in full view of the entire garden party. To their credit, they all pretended that nothing was at all amiss, and that having some chick snoring on the lawn swing in the middle of the afternoon during a luncheon was normal. Charming, even. And for my part, I managed not to throw up or drool on myself, although I honestly have to say that it was all luck. The gods saved me from that one final bit of humiliation.

I remember very little from the party. I remember feeling chilly in the breeze and opening my eyes, staring through the fence at my car and wondering if I could possibly get there from where I was. I believe that I did walk over there at one point, and I further believe that I fell asleep IN my car for another undetermined amount of time.

When I woke up, sober and dehydrated in my hot car with the windows closed and my dress stuck in the door, it was evening and the sun was setting. I had enough sense to do the walk of shame back to the house (still in that horrible dress) thank my hosts, get a cup of water, and start plotting ways to sneak into my home, avoiding the babysitter until after I had showered and changed clothes.

It was all for naught, the babysitter and the children greeted me as I walked through the door resplendent in my ill-fitting peach satin and rhinestones. To see the look on their faces as it changed from joyous welcome to barely veiled horror was priceless and the only thing I remember clearly about the entire afternoon.

Except the filet. It was delicious.