So apparently I am a drunken slob

My very very good friend Slut and I are about to embark on yet another adventure. I KNOW! I can hardly believe it myself, which is actually really a stupid thing to say, when you think about it for more than a split second, because obviously I'm one of the people embarking on said adventure WITH Slut, so why the hell WOULDN'T I believe it?! Unless, of course, I'm either schizophrenic, or maybe narcoleptic, in which case, who cares.

Exactly.

So, like I said, we're going on another adventure. As if New York City wasn't enough.

Slut picked me up Monday evening and off we went to learn more about our adventure. We had decided to volunteer for the HOPE Volleyball Summerfest, which is an annual charity event that gives the money raised to chosen charities. This year, one of the charities chosen is Camp Quality Eastern Ontario, a camp for kids with cancer. As most of you know, Dee had cancer and has been going to this camp for something like eight years now. Slut also has a son who went to this camp for many years.

Our volunteer area is working in the beer tent. Clearly, the decision-makers know us only too well.

Slut and I try to do our part in giving back. And then I found out we were going to be serving beer, not drinking it, and I felt pretty pissed off and almost threw a fit, but didn't because I have a few ideas up my proverbial sleeves, guys. Just try and stop me, volleyball people!

As we made our way to our training session for the volunteers, Slut and I had a heated discussion about the training session itself. Neither of us really knew what the hell it was all about, and why we even had to be there, since we are pretty much all-knowing and, even when we don't know, we usually get away with it. That's how we roll, guys.

We were told this was for SmartServe training, and Slut and I both thought we knew what it was, but what was actually the case was that neither one of us knew anything, including where the building was for the training. Somehow, though, we got there, and that's with Slut driving without her glasses. Apparently, she doesn't need them to drive.

Slut was pretty sure that the SmartServe training was to teach us about intoxication, how to say no to people who wanted more to drink but who had obviously had a wee too much, and what the laws were. Of course, I knew Slut was completely and utterly wrong. It was totally obvious that the SmartServe training was going to teach us how to serve drinks, how to pour the beer without causing too much foam, and how not to seem drunk when serving others their beers. Not sure why Slut thought it would be something as lame as learning the laws, but she did. Whatever.

Turns out Slut was totally right, and I was totally wrong.

We had to sit through two deadly hours of video presentation about people getting drunk and acting all crazy and stupid. I was thinking to myself that they could have saved themselves the money and time, and just had people come and watch me be myself for a while, and they would walk away fully knowing what to look for.

Because the signs of intoxication chart totally describe yours truly. Seriously. What.The.Hell? I maybe have one drink a month, if that, and here I am, being told I am an intoxicated slob who needs to go home and sleep it off? What gives, government police people?

Signs that totally describe me, as well as someone who's had a few too many mojitos, include annoying other guests, making sexual advances, using foul language, repeating jokes, being careless with money (Mr. Handsome would no doubt nod to that one!), unable to sit straight in a chair (hello! I have scoliosis! Thanks for judging, judgy people), stumbling, and difficulty seeing and hearing (once again, I'm pretty sure judging someone based on physical disabilities is totally wrong, and not so nice).

So, yeah, I'm a drunk.

And Slut was right about the training. But at least I knew where the event takes place. So I win. And Slut loses, because she thought it took place here:

and that people brought in truckfulls of sand for the event. Poor Slut. She lives in her own world at times. But I still love her like she was my own.

The event actually takes place here:

which is a great beach we have right in the middle of our city.

Next week, we go in again for orientation, which I'm pretty sure means they're going to advise us how to quaff down a keg of beer while carrying a tray of alcohol to tables without losing our way in the crowd.

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Meanwhile, I wanted to tell everyone how much I appreciate their advice on the fake tan issue I've been having lately. I haven't taken anyone's advice yet, but I'm about to. However, now I'm in even more trouble because apparently you have to wash your hands after using this stuff, which I did, but it seems my palms are still tanning. So now I have palms that look like I've been playing with carrots all day long: Which I'm pretty sure I haven't been.