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I am a holiday orphan.

In my twenties I used to spend my holidays with Red and her family.

I liked Red’s family a lot because much like me they enjoyed their wine.

At any given get-together we would have a minimum of three different glasses of wine in front of us at all times.

I liked this very much.

One Thanksgiving, after replacing our blood with Merlot, Red and I  decided to stop at the store for some (you guessed it!) more wine.

We were at the check out counter when we happened to spot it!

THE SIMPLE LIFE, SEASON TWO!

Now I don’t know if you remember this reality show, it starred Paris Hilton and Nicole Richey (Red and I actually appeared in the series finale, but that’s another story). They were on a farm doing disgusting tasks. Red and I loved watching the privileged suffer. So we snatched up the DVD and headed to my house to watch it with our wine.

After a few episodes I went out on the balcony to smoke.

Thats when it happened.

I fell off.

Now, I can tell you exactly how I fell off the balcony. I was hanging from the side and I reached for a step that didn’t exist.

What I can not tell you is why.

Why the hell was I climbing off the balcony to begin with?

Red and I came up with a few  scenarios.

1. I was saving a stuck cat.

2. I thought I was a whore (like Julia Roberts) and Richard Gere was waiting for me below.

3. I was too drunk to realize I was climbing over the railing.

4. I was abducted by a UFO and they realized I was a bad specimen immediately.

Somewhere in my hangover haze I had a slight memory of trying to relive my teenage years of sneaking out.

My feet left the edge and my arms were too wimpy to hold me. I remember the “oh shit” moment of unintentionally letting go. but mostly I remember the THUD of my back hitting the concrete.

The wind was knocked out of me. Luckily my head hit the dirt. The pain went through me faster than wine through a bladder. It even halfway sobered me up.

What I remember most about this moment was my dog, Rita-tarded, seeking years worth of revenge upon me.

She walked right up and lifted her leg.

It took Red a good hour to notice I was gone. Actually, she never noticed. She was transfixed on the TV.

I eventually rolled my pathetic, dog urine soaked ass over and crawled back into the house.

Once inside I found Red’s class note-book and wrote my will. If I was to be paralyzed, Red was to call Dr. Kavorkian.

Red discovered my will while in class a month later.

Now, if you ask Red she will tell you this story is highly exaggerated.
I just think she just doesn’t want to admit her love for Paris Hilton.

My whore ass is going out to that very balcony right now to wait for my prince in his shiny, white Kia.

One thought on “Red Wine Gives You Wings

  1. Pingback: The Fun Girls | It's not my fault.

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