Please enjoy the above photo of Bill and Charlene Beasley (Charlene has apparently drank from the fountain of youth or, like Merlin, is aging backward--she looks younger every time I see her) whooping it up at the Bubble Q. You'll note that the background, unlike the subjects, is the only thing actually in focus. This amateurish effort represents the sum total of the photographs I got at the event despite lugging my camera around with me all night. Except for that time I abandoned it on a random table at one point. The camera was still there, unnoticed, when I returned. A good example of what happens when champagne and I mix.
And then I think it would be a really good idea to have another glass of the stuff.
This then leads to me staggering from table to table making inappropriate comments to various people, remarking repeatedly on "my situation" whilst tugging my dress down and teetering dangerously atop my FM pumps which I, for some reason, thought it would be a good idea to wear to an outdoor event. Several times, I stood next to Laura K (there may be tragic photographic evidence of this) a situation I always promise myself never to get in as she is fully a head taller than and seriously one-fourth the width of myself. When I throw my arm about her waist it actually meets me on the other side. Quickly.
And then there was that whole ill-advised conversation with Patience Renzulli during which I may have made a slight confession about a few abandoned doggie poops. Um, yah, not a good idea. For a minute there, I thought she was going to beat me to death with my own shoe. And I thought that mainly because she told me she was going to beat me to death with my own shoe. Luckily, I managed to stagger away and back to...
...the champagne tray. Tra la!
Around this time, Christa convinced me it was time for dinner (empty stomach and all that). On my way to the buffet spread, I spotted a policeman acting as security.
I should pause here and tell you that I have an illness inherited from my mother. And that illness is: put a few drinks in me and get me anywhere near an officer of the law and I immediately become convinced it would be the FUNNIEST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED to have my picture made with said officer. I have been photographed under the influence with officers of the New Orleans PD, the San Antonio PD; my mother has similar photos with the Detroit PD and, in an incredibly lucky coup, a London bobby. We think these photos are hysterically funny. It's a little weird. But that never stops us! No, indeed!
Meanwhile, back at the Bubble Q, I simply must, of course, have my photo taken with the policeman. Strangely, any time I ask the police if I can take a photo with them they're all, "Why, sure!" and this officer was no exception. We linked arms...stared into the camera..."Cheese!" just as a helpful voice called out from across the event,
"Hey! Did you know she was arrested last month?!"
Yah. Good times (MONICA).
The policeman actually drew back in horror. I mean, one minute he's cheezin' it up with a semi-respectable fundraiser attendee and the next staring into God knows what camera lens all pressed up against God knows who. The poor guy was traumatized, I tell you...traumatized!
And you know just how sorry I felt for him.