Marrying George Clooney

quick story.
i was drunk. an all girls night. five of us. talking, drinking, crying, laughing, sharing, crying some more… laughing harder. drinking.
i live down the road from allison. a quick drive. 5 minutes.
we have a new driveway. it’s for when we build our new garage so that when we’re old and incapable of walking down the staircase from our now existing garage slash barn neither one of us — ken or me — will fall down and bump our heads in the night, and then won’t be found for like seven, eight days (because neither one of us will remember that we were/are in fact married to each other… life … funny that way…. all the years together, and then boom…it’s all gone from the memory chip) and so, it’s a new gate, a new deer fencing gate with a very long and sturdy pole that … a ‘make-shift’ gate, it’s all just a simple deer fence gate that isn’t meant to be opened and closed at one in the morning by a drunk woman in a dress… that wasn’t in the design plan of the makeshift gate.
okay so here I am drunk, in a dress, decided, nah, fuck it i won’t drive through the real gate…i’ll be bold & audacious & reckless…. and i’ll open this… this… this… temporary deer fence with this huge heavy motherfucker pole and drive through and close the fence and won’t i just be the coolest woman on the crazyville block.

well, the pole was way too heavy, like massively heavy like 200 lbs heavy, and the fence was too weak, like deer fence thin and fragile, and i couldn’t maneuver my way out of it, and it — the fence and the pole –caught itself on my fabulous Citron dress and ripped the shit out of it, and the pole was massively heavy, much too heavy for a girl wobbling…
so the moral of the story.
is this:

when you’re drunk never ever ever pick up a pole that’s bigger than you are. never. unless you are willing – for one crazy wacky evening – to be a pole dance.