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2002-05-27
Oh, I'll Memorial It, All Right
I am in pain.

Oh, yes.

But it was totally worth it.

Let's back up. I'm working today. I'm fairly certain I'm The Only Girl Working In The Whole Wide World. It's rather weird - there are practically tumbleweeds blowing through the station, but outside, it's a madhouse - millions and millions of tourists clogging traffic and drinking and being insane. It's like we're in a bubble, or in the eye of a storm.

Not that I'm complaining, 'cause I was one of those storm people yesterday.

Friday, we went out and stayed all night. Pretty generic, really. Drink, dance, flirt. The usual. At the first bar, we were practically the only ones there, so it was like we had our own personal band. They kept engaging in conversations with us from the stage, asking what we wanted to hear. "For the girls in black."

Slept past noon on Saturday. Then, I proceeded to go home and pass out at 8:30 p.m., whereby I slipped into a deep, deep coma and could not be awakened until 11 a.m. the next day. I'm not sure, but I think I was kinda tired. I think Shawn tried to rouse me to go out around 11 p.m., but I wasn't having it.

But Sunday. Oh, Sunday. Shawn called, "Jamie. Get ready, pack a beach bag. We're going to [local resort]. I'll be there in 1/2 hour."

Me: "Yes, ma'am."

I took a superfast shower, tossed on a bikini, and packed the bag. Shawn and our friend Oscar pulled up a short while later, and we were off to the resort.

Let me tell you a little something about the Keys. There's this hangout called The Sandbar. It's not a bar or a restaurant or anything, though. It's a large patch of shallow water with several anchoring buoys, about a mile out in the ocean.

Weird, huh? But so fun. It's actually a big locals spot, but there are plenty of people from the mainland who party there, too. It gets crazy, too - everyone just wanders from boat to boat, drinking and socializing. It's kind of like South Beach, but in the water. Huge, zillion-dollar yachts. Loud music. Girlies getting naked. Boys getting rowdy. Jamies and Shawns getting full of rum.

It's even wilder over holiday weekends. We finally found a parking space at the packed resort, and met up with some buddies who were headed out to the Sandbar, so we cruised out with them.

Hundreds and hundreds of boats. Hundreds. Tan, shirtless boys as far as the eye could see. It was 3 p.m., and it was like we'd arrived at a night club. We found some people we knew out there, anchored and tied up next to them, and started the boat-hopping. Everyone just skips from boat to boat. The water's only about 2 to 4 feet deep.

We ended up two boats over. Where there was a blender. A gas-powered blender. Yes, read that again. A gas powered blender. With a pull-chain to start it. Like a lawnmower.

After a few blended concoctions and a lot of sun, we decided to go back and get ready for this pool party we'd been invited to. (Blender boys blew kisses at me as we pulled away.)

Plus, I was starving.

We were going to go home and shower and stuff, but instead, we said, "Fuck it" and showed up salty and sandy.

What a fun party, on this nice outdoor pool patio thingy. I was pretty lubed up from the daiquiris at that point, and my hunger was becoming it's own living, breathing entity. When Shawn put a plate of barbequed pork and baked beans in front of my, I was so happy I almost tore off her clothes and made sweet love to her right then and there, but instead, I just ate like it was the First Meal Ever.

Then Shawn got in the pool, with our friend Zee, who'd invited us to this shindig in the first place. Apparently we were at her boyfriend's house. I don't know. But once Shawn got in the pool and started yelling at me, I knew what was coming. Despite my protests, I think I only had time to shriek, "I should really wait a half hour after eating!" before I was enthusiastically tossed into the pool, fully clothed.

I peeled off my tank top and skirt, and joined Shawn and Zee for a little pool-fun.

Um, but when it was time to get out and act civilized again, I had nothing at all to wear. And of course, Shawn and Oscar take off for a while to check out the Full Moon Fest, so I'm wet, cold, heavily buzzed, dripping, and all, all alone.

Now, when I'm drunk, I really should not let other people dress me. Here's the fantabulous outfit these "friends" put together for me: Grey men's boxers. Giant men's khakis, hanging down below the boxers, all homeboy-style. Little lacy blue tank top with split up the front, showing stomach. No bra. Wet hair. Barefoot.

I was like Princess Ghetto. Oh, it was awful. Well, it would have been, if anyone had cared. I could have run around wearing nothing but barbequed pork at that point, and no one would have given a flying fuck. Zee's boyfriend kept getting in my face, saying, "You can pull it off! You make it work!"

Well thanks, Versace. But Shawn looked at me like she wanted to put me in a straightjacket when she finally showed back up, so how the hell are we going to explain Fashion Fun to her, huh?

Fortunately, Shawn knows me well enough to realize that she can't leave me alone at a party with a bunch of strangers without SOMEthing weird happening to me. She just shrugged, found my wet clothes, and herded me into the car.

At this point, I remember chattering senselessly from the backseat, and Oscar laughing, all, "Jamie's funny when she's drunk!"

Shawn was like, "Uh-huh. Well, then why don't YOU deal with her tomorrow?"

Actually, it wasn't a problem, seeing as how I made it to the radio station all by myself. So nyah. I'm not going to pretend like getting ready this morning wasn't a horribly painful experience, but I made it, and that's all that matters. I talked to Shawn a little while ago, though, and she and Zee and Zee's Boyfriend are all headed out to the Sandbar. Bastards. I'm totally jealous.

Oh, God. I just remembered photos. Someone at the party was definitely pointing a camera at me in that goony outfit. I think there are photos. Crap.

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