Bloggity Summer Camp: A Poorly Behaved Hobbit

Good Evening Humble Readers...

The saying goes, 'There's no rest for the wicked, and the righteous don't need any'.  That sure sums up my day today.  I've been cleaning, organizing, cooking, doing laundry, all while dying in the humidity.  I know that humidity on the flatland is nothing compared to what it is out east, but man I'm wrung out today. 

With vacation looming (packing and cleaning... I hate coming home to a messy house!), a self-induced Harry Potter movie marathon that I MUST get through by dinner time on Friday, a book I have to finish reading, a trip to make to the library, AND a New Kids On The Block/Backstreet Boys concert in Calgary tomorrow (woohoo!)... whew!  I'm tired already just thinking about it.  And I need to do a bit of grocery shopping too, as I'm planning on making most of our food for on the road.  I'm also pretty sure that AF is going to be making her appearance any day too... so I'm not at my best. 

Poor Ginny doesn't know if I'm coming or going.

But the main point of this point is not to whine about my to do list.  Bloggity Summer Camp keeps rolling on and today's topic is a bit revealing.  Calliope asks, "Tell us about the first time you got drunk or tipsy (as far as you can remember…) Do you ever stop yourself from telling too much when you write on-line or do you think you tell too much?"

Ummmmm... is this a truth or dare situation?  Can I take a dare instead?  Please?  No?  Okay...

Are you ready to be shocked?  It was certainly a moment of extremely bad judgement, I can tell you.  The first time I got drunk I was 12 years old.  And I was babysitting...

Alright, now that you all are officially shocked and appalled, here's the sordid tale.

My friend Nancy and I were going to babysit for a lady that Nancy babysat for regularly.  We were both 12 at the time.  At this time in my life, I was living with my bio-dad, his wife and her kids, and would spend every other weekend with my bio-mom.  The lady we were to be babysitting for was going to be working until the early hours of the morning, and so we were going to spend the night there. 

The evening started out as any normal babysitting job would.  Screaming kids, fights about going to bed, and finally getting to watch music videos on tv.  Shortly after the kids finally went to bed, the on-again-off-again boyfriend of the lady we were babysitting for showed up with some of his buddies, ready to party.  I remember Nancy and I having a hushed conversation in the kitchen, discussing that we didn't feel comfortable leaving the kids with these guys, who had obviously already had a few, and we also wanted to get paid.  We stayed...

I honestly don't remember how I ended up with a Co.or's Light in my hand, but I ended up drinking two or three.  I remember being very tired and laughing at the dumbest things.  I remember eating pizza and sleeping in an arm chair in the living room. 

The next morning, Nancy and I agreed that we wouldn't tell anyone, we got our money, and headed home.  But it didn't end there.  You know that pizza that I ate?  Well, it was ordered from the restaurant where my bio-mom worked, and of course it got back to her that her kid was drinking and partying with 25 year old guys. 

That went over well.  I was grounded forever.

Looking back, I am astounded that all that happened was that we got drunk.  As an adult, thinking about all the many things that could have gone so incredibly wrong, I am really appalled. 

It was three years before I would get drunk again, but that's another tale for another time.

Getting back to Calliope's second question... do I stop myself from saying too much here?  When it comes to stuff about me, I don't hold back.  But if it's in reference to someone else, I try to respect their privacy.  We all have the right to tell our own stories.