So I basically stayed in all weekend studying diligently for some Microsoft classes I'm taking. The past two weekends were a little crazy so I figured I'd take it easy and get caught up. Well, my buddy and his new wife are on their honeymoon to Mexico, so I'm checking on his place and watering his plants while he's gone. Around 9:30pm or so Saturday night, I head over to do my good deed. As I finish up, I see he's got a few new DVD's I hadn't seen yet. He's also got a 56 inch big screen TV so I figure I may as well throw in Jarhead and see what that's all about. (Incidentally, a pretty good flick.)
I finish movie watching around 1:30am and head back to my place. As I pull into my cul-de-sac my headlights pass over a female laying on the ground in a driveway in front of an open garage, she's not moving. I think to myself "Oh great, someone just beat the hell out of their wife and threw her out or something". I get my truck safely stowed in my garage, and head over with my cell phone out ready to dial 911. When I get about 5 feet away I can smell the booze.
I ask her if she's alright and she slurs out a negative response. I ask where she's hurt and she mumbles something about not being hurt. I then ask what's wrong with her and she replies "I can't stand up.."
At this point, I just want to laugh. Hell, I've been there myself (although not in a driveway in front of my condo) so I can sympathize. I put the cell phone away as it looks like I won't need it, and ask her if we were in fact in front of her place. She confirms it, and I convince her to give me her keys so I can unlock the door for her and then help her in.
Around this time she starts asking me the same half a dozen questions over and over again. "Who are you?" "Where did you come from?" "Where's your wife?" "What's your name?" were the prevalent ones.
Let me make it clear now that this woman, while not a complete bowzer, was not attractive. She appeared to be in her late 40's, and while not a fat woman she was rather large. You know, kind of a big-boned Amazonian tribe sized gal.
After a good deal of work, I finally managed to get her on her feet, and helped her into the condo. I maneuvered her around the numerous plants to her couch, and accomplished getting her to sit down without knocking anything over or dropping her on her face. I'm quite pleased with myself. And I prepare to make a chivalrous exit while wishing her well, fully aware that if she didn't end up puking all over herself she was certainly going to have a mammoth hang-over the next day.
I didn't get out that easy.
She then starts trying to find out where I live, and repeatedly asks if she could make me something to eat. The thought of her anywhere near a stove throws me into a near panic, and I convince her that I'm not hungry. I try to get out but she then asks if I could "get my stuff" out of her car. This worries me, as I immediately think drugs.
It turned out to be a large dish of potato salad. While retrieving this from her car to put it in the fridge, I notice her car is all the way to the front of the garage. In fact, if it wasn't for the mattress leaned up against the wall, she might very well have ran her camaro into the far wall of the garage. I'm amazed she didn't get pulled over or get herself killed on the way home.
After locking up her garage and handing her a bottle of avian with explicit instructions to drink the whole thing, I finally made my escape.
I realize I could have made this gal out to be a 25 year old hottie, who proceeded to have a grateful room-mate with whom she had a very hawt bisexual relationship with, and what followed would be the stuff of Penthouse Forum legend. But it seems like too much work.