Proclamations mixed with alcohol, and a dash of emotions.

Here is a heavily edited accounting of another incident in which I thought that the cops were going to be called. .  This one involves my twin brother, my sister, my other sister (my best friend), my new step sister, a random 13 year old girl, a hookah, lots of alcohol and well ME!.

                A little back history, my twin and I are not on speaking terms. Meaning I do not speak to him. And here is the shortest version of why:

                He thinks with his small brain, and chooses girls who are either

A)    Crazy

B)     Pathological liars

C)     Obsessive

D)    Hates all other females

E)     Almost always all of the above. . .

Because of this tendency in the past year and a half Ron has gotten married to a girl who wanted a divorce a week later, then faked a pregnancy, the a miscarriage and moved back to Hawaii. After a few weeks living in marital bliss even buying a puppy, the crazy up and leaves. Out of the blue.

                Well of course my sisters and I said a big ole “TOLD YOU SO!”

But all was forgiven because well he was going off to a war zone and that shit is scary. Over the four months Ron spent in the sandy dessert, I sent him a few care packages and our relationship was becoming better. I even spent 7 hours at an airport just to see him after he got back. The he starts to talk about his newest plan. Moving to Texas to be a plumber. A job he lined up through a girl he met online. (s/n not on any dating site but on tumblr. Which says A LOT) After many conversations and deep thought I realized his little member was thinking again. And we had a HUGE MASSIVE fight in which I am pretty sure I told him he should just stop telling people he has a family because he doesn’t really care about us anyways. Ladies and gents, this was after a very stress filled few months in which I was job searching and after my brother bailed on me multiple times, breaking a few promises. All because he was glued to his phone, chatting with Texas.

Well Texas didn’t work out. SURPRISE!! Shock gasps and awe. NOT.

This weekend was the first time I had seen my twin since all of this went down. And needless to say I was (and am) still salty about the whole shebang.

Back to last weekend: Within 20 minutes of being in the car with Ron, Tori offered me meds out of fear that I was going to crash the car just to maim Ron, who was trying to back seat drive.

That night after lots of drinks and dinner, a group of us were huddled around the counter when out of nowhere Ron states

“I’m taking Tori’s advice and staying single for a while.” Excuse me? Whose advice?

Remember this post about advice the good bad and the ugly?

Yeah everything I kept saying for YEARS!!!

 I hit a level of angry that quite frankly I haven’t hit since a boyfriend had to tackle me to the ground to prevent me murdering the very same brother. After a lot of “fuck you’s” and aggressive posturing I managed to calm down. Mainly it was because my sister Tori distracted me with the offer of smoking Hookah.

So the younger sect of the wedding party (those listed above) trek out to the porch. After talking about a bunch of raunchy things trying to get Ron, the only guy there to leave, we accidentally scared of the 13 year old. Finally Ron LEFT!!! Thus commenced 20 unadulterated minutes of girl talk, where we gave advice on lots of random things. Alas it did not last. You see we are a bunch of LAZY girls. So we called Ron back to get us more drinks. He then stayed.

In the middle of a particularly nondescript story, Tori interrupts me and says hold on this is going to be good.

Ron then gave the proclamation that turned an okay night into a night I will never forget. He is in a platonic relationship! They cuddle, watch movies, and occasionally make out!!! SINGLE MY ASS! That is a relationship my friends! I then proceed to call my mother from down stairs and well the rest is a bunch of drunk platitudes and mini conferencing that every person has experienced at least once.

The night ended with me proclaiming I am the most normal, and sadly the most sober. The latter I am still not sure is entirely true. This stirred another intense debate among my family, of which Erin was disqualified on a technicality, (she probably is the most normal, but sadly is adopted.) and Tori was out because she is getting married at a young age, which most of society frowns upon. To make up for it I am sure that she will be the most normal given 10 years of marriage.

I am pretty sure the few neighbors that were in Nags Head that evening did not appreciate us all hollering at each other. But hey isn’t that a normal night at a beach house?

Bridezilla? Or frustrated with incompetence?

I seriously thought that I was going to go to jail this past weekend back home. MULTIPLE times. What does that say about my weekend home? Only that it was epic, and one that I will remember with a certain fondness for many years.

The first instance I thought that I was going to be handcuffed and dragged away was at David’s Bridal. While a part of me in convinced that the women are used to verbal abuse, I still felt that my sister was going to take it to the next level and starting slinging fists.

Here is why:

8 weeks ago Tori went dress shopping (without me) and feel in love with a gown. She went in to try it on but they only had it in the unreasonably small size of a 4. She didn’t care she wanted it. She then went through the process of getting measured. My sister being a very fit and healthy woman is a size 8. A size that many women would kill to be. Cue to this past weekend.

Wanting to have that “moment” with each other I waited patiently outside the fitting room for her to be laced, hooked and zipped into the many accruements that go along with a dress. After 20 minutes, I started to get worried. I heard muttering, and well angry protestations. After another 10 minutes and apparently another bustier, Tori came out, and man did she look drop dead gorgeous. Only she didn’t look happy, instead she looked like she was about to murder someone. WHY you ask?

The dress didn’t fit, more it wouldn’t zip.

After about 30 minutes of back and forth and requesting to speak to the store manager who was one of the women who assured my sister that she was “a perfect size 8” I decided to take matters into my own hands. Especially since Tori had made it very clear she was not ordering a size 10 to take in.

First I saw that the slip, which is this huge bell skirt that goes up to just under the breasts wasn’t zipped all the way. It didn’t fit, and because of this the dress would zip over it! I unhooked it pulled it up and zipped that dress up in two shakes!

We then privately had our moment since no one was anywhere to be seen! I called back the store manager and explained the problem; she then had the seamstress take my sister back to the dressing room to get a bigger slip.

20 minutes later my sister was storming back out, spitting out FUCKS every other word, I seriously thought she was going to hit the seamstress trailing behind her. She stopped in front of me and said “Tricia Zip it again.” After taking off the slip (Tori said it was too hot and not needed) the lady still couldn’t zip the dress!!!

Ladies & Gents, the dress was zippable, it was tight but it did fit. And after I zipped it again, we were there for another 20 minutes talking about bustling. Needless to say after we got out of there both Tori and I were agitated.

We have decided to have our moment on her wedding day, not surrounded by women whose only purpose in life seems to be incompetently pushing for more alterations than necessary; this was also evidenced by a few other disgruntled customers back in the fitting rooms. FYI.

So yeah, that coupled with a very drunk family and some very interesting proclamations I spent the whole weekend just waiting for someone to call the cops. :D