Part One: It all started at the 2 - 1 - 2

whoa. what a weekend.

Well it all started at the 2 - 1 - 2...my apartment that is. Southern Belle was coming up from Atlanta and we had an action packed weekend planned. I don't think I've announced yet that I finally bought a condo - yippee! I had wanted to do an appropriate farewell for 212 waterman (and all the shenanigans that went down there) and I thought the best time to do it would be when Southern Belle was in time since that was the place where we became such good friends.

So i'm getting ready for the party and for Southern Belle's arrival and T has an idea that I should put a sign up in the hallway inviting anyone from the building (this would actually be a first meeting since I have no idea who anyone is) down for a drink and some food. I really don't expect anyone to show up since I never actually see anyone. I think everyone was hoping for a guest appearance by the man who lives under the stairs because we are dying to see what he looks like...

So Southern Belle gets here and there are about 8 of us chatting it up and telling stories about my 600 square foot apartment and all of a sudden there is a little knock on the door. It's a waif of a girl holding a handle of bacardi in a brown paper bag excited as ever to come to the party. Her name is Alex and she lives upstairs and of course we made her feel welcome right away. Perhaps tooo welcome.

As soon as I realized that she was on drink #10 and her body weight was about 97 1/2 pounds I knew we were in trouble. That's when the inappropriate touching began. First it was the arm around my shoulder that "happened" to grace my boob. Then it was her hand on my leg (um..i had shorts on) - Wait I'm sorry the stroking of my leg while she told me how good it was to meet me. whooaaa nelly. keep yourself together. i know there isn't a whole lot of action going on up there on the 2nd floor but no need to come down to a party and make advances on me and my friends. everyone is weirded out and no one knows what to say or really do. and of course T is egging her on by announcing every time you could see my bra under my shirt. she then slurs to us that she wants us to go with her to a "secret" bar at Brown. oh wait - this is after she is now drinking the sweet tea vodka on the rocks. and after she has smoked a pack of cigarettes on the front porch. i honestly was surprised she was still standing. we avoid going to the "secret" bar, with the other "secret" lesbians and she gets her friend to pick her up. I also thought I was going to find her sprawled on the ground in front of the steps to 212 waterman with the neighborhood skunk who lives in the dumpster about to crawl over her. but thank god she wasn't.

if the walls in 212 waterman could talk they would have a lot of stories to tell - the beginning of great friendships, new love interests, broken hearts, broken bones, and hours upon hours of reality tv on that pink couch.

And I couldn't have asked for a better ending.

However- that was not the ending of this crazy crazy weekend...to be continued...