So, you know how sometimes I go for days or even a week or more without a post here on Word Lust? Well...I don't totally disappear off the face of the earth. You can usually find me over on Twitter. It is just so much easier to be clever in 140 characters or less.
Anyway, last week (I think it was last week...maybe the week before), a girlfriend called me at 11pm on Tuesday night. Her and her -ahem- sweetheart of a boyfriend had gotten into a fight and he stormed out. Well, she didn't want to be alone. Knowing what I know about this girl, it would have been a terrible idea to let her be by herself while she was upset. And I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself had *something* happened to her after she reached out to me for help.
Being the amazing friend that I am, I grabbed my purse and a few changes of clothes and headed out to the country to keep her company for the next few days. Rather than rehashing the whole story, I will let my Twitter account fill you in.
[This actually kind of reminds me of the *Textually Active* post from last year where I posted some of my favorite text messages. Hmmm. May have to start making this a regular feature.]
~*Tuesday Night/Early Wednesday Morning*~
FUCK! One of my girls is having an emotional breakdown. Heading out to the country tonight to keep her from doing anything stupid.
I should be a goddamn psych nurse. With all the crazy bitches I hang out with, it's like it was meant to be.
And of course that motherfucker couldn't have the common decency to break up with her during the daylight hours. Had to be at 11pm.
It's midnight, I'm wearing sweats and I'm driving out to BFE. This is how every single horror movie/porn I've ever seen has started.
Y'all. It's dark. There are no city lights. I see cows and I think I may hear banjos. I'm scared. The shit I do for friends.
Oh lord. There. Is. A. Fucking. Horse. In. Her. Front. Yard. I may not make it out of this alive.
Holy fuck, y'all. Who stays in a relationship *this* fucked up? I mean, really? Why didn't she drop his ass months ago?
Estelle, suicide intervention and drinking buddy. I should print up goddamn business cards.
Totally re-living therapeutic communication from psych nursing right now. >_<
Okay...she's alright for the moment. I am so fucking tired though.
Fuck....my head hurts...
After 10pm, the only counseling skills I possess are to just make you drink until you feel better.
I woke up disoriented and in a bed that isn't my own. Oh hell. It's like every weekend I ever had in college.
Lying on the bed and clinging to it for dear life so the world will quit spinning. I'd even settle for it just slowing down a little.
I need a massage and a bloody mary...and some aspirin.
So...um...has anyone seen my shoes?
Estelle's hangover update: the room has stopped spinning. Mostly.
Disregard previous tweet. Room still spinning.
~*Wednesday Night/Early Thursday Morning*~
This bathroom is so fucking pink. Highly unsettling. I don't want to be here right now.
At a bar. On a Wednesday night. *Crazy Bitch* is blaring. Yeah. No way this could end badly.
Estelle Darling; RN, Crisis Intervention, alcohol poisoning spotter. Lovely.
Well...this isn't the first time I've had a drunk girl with her head on my chest saying how much she loves me & what a good friend I am. Oy
All I ask is that she please not throw up on my boobs.
You'd be surprised how quickly you sober up when you are holding back your friend's hair while she's leaning over a sink .
Apparently, I am "the most bestest friend a girl could ever ask for and OMG can I live inside your bra?!?" O_o
Estelle's bra = no vacancies.
Well...this is just the tiniest bit awkward.
I lied. It's really fucking awkward.
Friend's ex showed up. Has a key...just walked in.
I'm wearing the tiniest, most revealing pajamas imaginable. And I haven't showered today.
If the look on his face when he saw me was any indication, he thinks me and her spent the past two days fucking. Lovely.
You know how two days ago I said this could either turn into a horror flick or a porno? Yeah...my money is on the horror flick.
If y'all don't hear from me in the next 2 hours, it would be safe to assume he has killed us both & is now burying our bodies in a field.
Did I mention he's a bouncer at a strip club? I couldn't make this shit up even if I tried.
I would like to assure all of you that I have not spent the past two days having raunchy, kinky lesbian sex.
I've spent the past two days drinking vodka, watching bad movies, and listening to her bitch about him not being able to get it up.
You know an argument is getting serious when the woman used the words "premature ejaculation" and "sad ass little broken dick."
And now she's in the bathtub upstairs and he's talking to me about nursing school. How the fuck is this my life?
"You're only 23 and you're an RN now? Impressive." "Dude..let's not pretend I didn't just hear your gf call you a lousy lay."
I made it home! And I wasn't killed by an impotent strip club bouncer & buried in a field in the middle of nowhere! :::Happy dance:::
I kept saying to myself, "For the love of God, Estelle, don't make a joke about his penis not matter how hilarious it would be."