Coming Home (PS - Scroll Down For LOTS of Pictures!)

I got home at 7:30 in the morning, having driven straight through the night. I would have been there sooner, but I broke down in Breezewood, PA, about 20 miles north of the Maryland border and had to wait for a jump. I crawled out of the car, hugged my mom, and fell into bed. My 90-pound doberman/shepard jumped up with me, crushing me against the wall as usual. I was home.

Some interesting things that happened when I was home:

My boss from Red Hot and Blue called my house the morning I got home, at around 9. I was the only one home. I was sleeping, having a dream about Chicago. I picked up the house phone, thinking it was my cell, and fully believing I was actually in Chicago.
"Hi, Marilyn!" he said, thinking I was my mom.
"No, Jeff," I said, sleepily. "I’m Jessica."
"Oh, hey! I didn’t know you were home yet. I was calling for your dad."
"Well, I don’t know why you called me. I’m in Chicago."
"Um....okay. I called your house line. Did it transfer to your cell?"
"I’m in Chicago."
"Uhhh.... alright. Well, I guess I’ll try your dad’s cell. You’re sure you’re in Chicago?"
"Yep.... Chicago..."

I hung up on him and went back to sleep. I was so out of it I didn’t even remember the conversation until 5:00 that night, when I saw Jeff and he said, "Wow! You got home from Chicago quick!" I was so embarrassed!

I can tell this story because I am a big sister and it’s my job to embarrass the crap out of my siblings:
I went to a party at my friend Kelly’s house. My brother TJ was there, with his girlfriend, and a bunch of other people we know. My brother’s only 19 and hasn’t mastered the art of pacing yet. He ended up getting WASTED.

His girlfriend left, leaving me to take care of him. I even had to stand behind him while he peed, to make sure he didn’t fall over. I took him to the kitchen to drink some water and he grabbed a bottle of bright green apple Palmolive dish soap off the sink. He thought it was Apple Pucker. "Let’s do some shots!" he mumbled.

He still hasn’t lived that one down.

I overheard a young man, about 23, in a wifebeater and a Budweiser cap, say, "There’s got to be more to a relationship than sex. Look at 90-year-old couples. They probably haven’t had it in 30 years but they still love each other. I want that!" Quite mature coming from a 23-year-old guy, don’t you think? I know I was surprised.

I got into a drunken playfight with my friend David, Virginia David, on the streets of DC at 2 in the morning. It started with him not believing me that I used to box, and almost ended horribly. He said I punch like a girl, I punched him in the mouth and busted his lip. I felt so bad and came close to him to wipe the blood away, then he got me in a headlock, bending me over. A carload of people drove by and yelled, "Hey! Get off her, we’ll call the cops!" I burst out laughing and David let me go. Then, since I was half in the bag, I thought it would be hilarious to shoot him with my mace. Thank god I missed! Yet, surprisingly, he hasn’t returned my calls. I wonder why.... Wow, what a night!

I started another blog, a stupid bog. www.dearestadam.blogspot.com