There’s trouble…

My mom’s wedding was wonderful on Saturday… excess amounts of family that I haven’t seen in years were greeted… my nephew topped us all my looking the best and almost stealing the show (he asked is mom for a faux-hawk for the wedding)… although my mother was a truly a gorgeous sight to behold. God I am glad to be back at home with my family. I missed them.

As I was re-visiting relatives for the duration of the day, I hardly drank anything, nor ate either. Once the wedding dwindled to a few family members left, my new sister, Winnie, her boyfriend, Miles, one of my oldest friends Michael (previously known as M&M), and I headed to the store. Somehow in my slightly buzzed state I thought five bottles of champagne seemed appropriate for us, after the dozens that had already been consumed throughout the day.

Our parents decided they didn’t care for any champagne. So the four of us sat at my mother’s our parents’ house and drank the remainder, while gifts were admired (I am still baffled that her neighbors bought her wind chimes, I find that’s comparable to my sister buying her own kids a drums set, but whatev…)

That’s pretty much all I remember for the night. I awoke Sunday morning in a strange bed, wearing my $12.99 Ross find (the dress that I received compliments on all day throughout the wedding). I had a large bruise just above my right knee and a bruise on my right palm (I have never bruised the palm of my hand before).

Realizing I was in Winnie’s apartment and had slept in her rarely-seen roommate’s bed, I wearily found the bathroom. While there I found a large “X” on the back side of each of my hands, obviously drawn on by a Sharpie. Confused, and trying to piece together the previous evening I looked into the mirror while washing my hands and saw my reflection, complete with a large black “X” on the side of my face. I had “fallen asleep” while resting my head upon my hand. Who’s gorgeous?

I went into Winnie’s room where she moaned herself awake as Miles (who didn't go out with us after the wedding festivities) hurriedly got ready for the family breakfast we were all supposed to attend. Needless to say, we didn’t attend. Instead Winnie pieced together an evening of me getting kicked out of the same bar three times (at that point I blame it on them).

The first time I was asked not to return was after losing my balance and grabbing onto her arm, as she sat on some guys lap. I pulled her onto the ground with me. She scrambled up, ensuring that her flower wasn’t shown to the drunken masses (as she wasn’t able to wear… undergarments… with her dress she chose for the wedding). Nothing says welcome home like my new 20 year old (with fake ID) sister pleading my 30 year old case to get back into the club… brilliant.

I paid her back though… oh yes… in true Drunk OCG form at the next club I got a guy to buy us bottle of champagne (because we needed more, I assure you). We left shortly thereafter and returned home (disclaimer: neither of us were driving) after the necessary drunk stop at Del Taco.

In between Winnie’s mad dashes to the bathroom Sunday (oh so ill) she looked at me and said, “The best thing that ever happened to you last night was you getting cut off. Be thankful.”

Miles later talked with her and said, “So is OCG moving back for good?” When she replied, “Yes.” his only response was, “Oh there’s trouble.”

How has that nickname followed me for so long? I don’t get it…