Oh My Gentle Jesus.
Tonight totally didn't turn out the way I'd planned...not even a little.
Saw Sweeney Todd with my sister (my thoughts regarding that will be forthcoming for those of you interested), then came home to shower before my friends showed up. They had dinner at a restaurant in Hialeah that Luis and Shels frequent; as I'd eaten prior to my movie-going experience, I wasn't hungry. We needed after dinner plans, and since Luis and Shels' place was out because of space and Luis' mom, my house is the default place whenever we do anything north of 8th St.
The group arrived around 12.15: Shels & Luis, Michi, Rosie (sans Ricky), Christie, and Cesar & Jenny, another couple we hang out with whenever they can join us--so far so good. They brought a 6-pack of Heineken with them, which was good, since I only had 2 bottles of Killian's left from the last get together at my house for my birthday a few weeks back. Put the beer away to chill, sat around and ate shit.
At around 1.30-ish, my sister's friend Melissa, accompanied by my sister, scampers into the house and uses the downstairs bathroom. She's barefoot, which is a little weird, and she doesn't really greet anyone, which is also weird, but not enough for me to think something is wrong.
She leaves after a little time spent in the bathroom, and walks out, again without really saying anything.
Then, my sister comes in, with her friend Christina sobbing, one of Christina's arms slung over my sister's shoulders.
My first thought is: "Either she broke up with her boyfriend, or she's fucking drunk."
Guess which one was true.
Christina stayed in the bathroom for half an hour, throwing up and nodding off and getting upset and being a weepy, self-loathing drunk. My sister and her friend Alex, the designated driver for the evening, kept trying to get her out of the bathroom and back into Alex's car; Christina refused to be moved. Finally, I had to ask Luis and Cesar to help us get Christina out of the house--the house which also contained my parents and grandparents, none of whom had the faintest idea that a drunk girl was holed up in the bathroom.
It takes a while, but we get Christina outside, going through the garage. The door going up alerts my mommy that something odd is happening, as the garage is right under her and my step dad's room. She comes down and asks if the garage door is open; I lie and say no, because then I would have to explain that it was up because we were trying to sneak a drunk girl out of the house.
The next part--that is, getting Christina into the car--is equally as difficult as getting her out of the bathroom was. Cesar and Luis manage to get her in, and then Luis and I manage to both get her sitting upright and buckle her in (she wasn't letting Cesar and Luis get her to sit up, so I switched with Cesar and made her, deciding it would be easier if I did it because a) I'm a girl and I don't have to worry about being gentle, and b) I'm not her friend, so I'm less prone to letting her decide when she can sit up and whatnot, when that is clearly beyond her at this point in time). But she starts complaining that she needs to puke, so I open the door to check on her and see if she's just being a crazy drunk or if she's actually serious, and she gets her seat belt off and then tumbles out of the car and onto my driveway with all the grace of a sack of potatoes.
She refuses to let anyone get her up, until I finally lose my patience and ask Cesar and Luis to pick her up and shove her into the backseat if they have to, but she needs to get off my fucking driveway now. Meanwhile, my sister is trying to deal with Melissa, who's also drunk, but sober enough to act fucking stupid and know it. Luis and Cesar, also annoyed at this point, get Christina back into the car and buckle her in. They also tell she's not going to fucking puke, that's a lie, because she hasn't got anything left to puke, which is true--I held her hair back for her in the bathroom the last time she "puked," and it was just spit.
My mommy calls my sister at this point. She's completely pissed, and my sister tells me to close the garage and open the front door, which I do, fucking terrified for my life, because I may be 22 and an adult, but my mommy scares me shitless to this day. I hear my mommy pacing around upstairs; I slip back outside and tell Alex she needs to get the fuck out of here like yesterday, before my parents come out to investigate exactly what the fuck is going on out here. While I was creeping through my house, praying for my mommy not to come downstairs and find me, Rosie basically told Melissa to stop being such a fucking douche bag; apparently, Alex had already tried to leave once, but she had to stop because Melissa opened the fucking passenger door.
They leave at roughly 2.30, Alex's backup on their way to her house to help her with her soused cargo; we all go inside. My mommy calls my sister's cell phone and from the look on my sister's face, we're pretty close to being killed, because all of this drama caused a lot of fucking noise--enough to wake up my step dad, who can sleep through basically anything. My friends ask if they should even be here, and I tell them I want them here--as long as they're here, I won't get reamed.
Well. They leave around 3.20-ish, and my mommy comes downstairs immediately, and calls me and my sister into the living room...where we get reamed. But we stick to our story: my sister's friends dropped by, and it started to get noisy, so we moved it outside. We went through the garage because that's where we had the beer chilling (lie--it was in the kitchen fridge, not the garage one), and we had the door open for easy access. My mommy's issue with the garage is that ours is (like most of America's) full of unattractive crap that is just as unattractive in its placement within the garage. The last part about why the garage was open I made up on the spot, because she wanted to know what the fuck we were doing with the garage door open, which she knew was open because my step dad came out to the garage for a bottle of water; luckily, he didn't realize that we weren't gathered around talking shit so much as gathered around Christina, laying on her side in the driveway so she wouldn't choke on the off chance that she did vomit, trying to decide how to get her into the car against her will.
My sister is now mortified that I had to recruit my friends to help her with hers; I'm mortified that a night of our usual shit-talking turned into babysitting drunk teenage girls.
Ugh...my head hurts.