what? me, normal?

It's that time of the week again: time for MamaKat's writing prompts.

This week I chose: "Normal is..."

In my little world, normal is redecorating a bar and stealing a priceless British artifact on my friend's 40th birthday. Last Saturday, we held a surprise party for my BFF's hubby. The party was at a local bar known as the British Ale House.

In the back of the building, they have a function room set up to resemble a warm, cozy British library. It has dark wood panneling, bookcases, and green sconces on the wall. There's a fireplace flanked by leather chairs with a painting of a fox hunt over the mantel. On one wall is a cluster of pictures of the royal family: Elizabeth, Charles, Diana, Harry, William, Camilla, Andrew and Fergie. On another wall is the other royal family: John, Paul, George and Ringo; Mick, Keith, Ron, and Charlie; Jeff Beck, Jimmy Page, and Eric Clapton. Plus, there's a framed map of the metro system. What better place for a party?

I got there early with a couple friends to tie mylar balloons to chairs, scatter confetti, and place the cake on the cake table. S had her husband's kindergarden picture sprayed on the cake (exactly HOW do they do that?), the same picture that was on the invitations.

He arrived about 45 minutes later, genuinely surprised and touched. We all ate pizza and talked and drank beer. Lots and lots of beer.

The thing about me and my two best buds, J and S; we get kind of out of control when we drink. Not in isolation. I can conduct myself with an appropriate amount of decorum when I drink in their absence. It's only when the three of us are together that my reasoning skills go right out the window.

My reasoning skills had gone right out the window when we decided that the 5 x 7" picture that was the model for the cake would look spectacular in one of the frames. After looking around the room, we decided that one of the lesser known musicians wouldn't be missed. We put the birthday boy's kindergarden picture in the frame and hung it back on the wall. It DID look spectacular! And we reasoned that it COULD be a picture of Paul McCartney in kindergarden. Who would know?

Then we went to watch the band. And drink more beer. And dance. And drink even more beer. When it was time to go, we went back to the function room to get our coats. By the fireplace, there was a dressform covered by a British guard jacket. (You know, like the dudes who hang out in front of Buckingham Palace?) Well, we couldn't leave without trying on the jacket. And taking pictures in front of the fireplace. And in the leather chairs. By the wall sconces. Next to John Lennon. And then, we (meaning I) put on my coat over the British guard jacket and ran out into the parking lot. And got into the car. And rode home. Still wearing the British coat.

Once home, J and I proceeded to take pictures of ourselves with her cell and send picture messages to numerous friends: "Hey! Look at the jacket I just stole!" Ever listen to the radio when they talk about stupid criminals? That was me and J on Saturday.

Let me just reiterate now: this is NORMAL behavior for me! J's husband was shaking his head at the two of us and listing the things we have stolen while drunk in the past year: "A cake, some wine glasses, Brian's car..." Perhaps that's why the text messages we got in return did not seem in the least surprised. "Sweet!" ; "NIIIIICE" ; "Drunk again, eh guys?"

The next morning, J and I ran to each other: "We have to return that jacket!"
But....so hung over....and big snow storm....and warm jammies....and movies on the TV.
We can return it tomorrow.

So on my way to work Monday, I stopped by the Ale House with the priceless British hierloom triple bagged in waterproof plastic. I tied it securely to the back door so that it wouldn't blow away in the storm. I briefly considered leaving the following note inside:
"I woke up on the floor yesterday morning, wearing nothing but union jack boxer shorts and this jacket. You may want to have it dry cleaned before putting it back on display"
But then I remembered that most people don't find me as funny as I find myself.

That nite, I got a call from S: "Did you guys steal a jacket on Saturday?"
Me: "Steal a jacket? Um, why do you ask?"
S: "Because I got a call from the manager of the Ale House saying they got the jacket back and the plow guy saw a girl in a red jeep tie it to the back door."

Crap. Now when I go to check and see if the picture is still in the frame I'll have to park down the street.

Why couldn't I just behave like a normal person?