Things That Make You Go Hmm…

Jul 4, 2011 by

You just can’t make this shit up. 

Today, I’d like to time travel back to my first wedding anniversary.  No, our anniversary is not in July (it’s in January), nor will this be a sentimental mushy blog (i.e. men, you are safe to continue reading). 

Adam and I went to Galena, planning to hit up a bed and breakfast, do some skiing, wine tasting, relax in the hot tub, etc.  We’d accomplished all of the above, except wine tasting, so on our last day in town we decided to do a quick wine tasting before dinner.  We had reservations at what was rumored to be a delicious Italian restaurant, but due to my husband’s irrational desire to be SUPER early to everything, we had over an hour to kill before our reservation.  This turned out to be very bad news for me.

At most wine tastings, they give you 3-4 small samples of various wines and you’re on your way.  Not this time.  I easily sampled 8-10 different half glasses of wine, with the last being port.  We still had half an hour to kill, so we headed to the restaurant bar, where I decided on a fruity martini.  Even after that, we STILL had time to kill, so we ordered a bottle of red, and took it to the table with us.  

I was drunk.  Way drunk.  Could barely speak to order my dinner, and proceeded to puke it all up in the bathroom shortly after it arrived.  Adam was mortified, I was miserable…ok, we were both miserable.  We left. 

For those of you who’ve never been, many of the roads in downtown Galena are brick paved.  The road the restaurant is on was no exception.  Due to predicted inclement weather, we’d driven Adam’s truck up to Galena that weekend.  So, as we are leaving the restaurant, he helps me into the truck, then proceeds to go around and get in himself…only to find that in the time he’d walked around the truck, I had not put on my seatbelt and closed the door behind me, but rather been too drunk to sit up without assistance, and had fallen right out the door onto the road and was too drunk to get up.  Very classy. 

Fast forward to last week.  Adam is checking on his irrigators when another farmer pulls up and since all Adam’s windows were rolled down, the farmer decides to stop and chat through the passenger side window.  Halfway through their various discussions on weather, how tall their corn is and whatever else farmers lie talk about this time of year, the other farmer commented that there was something stuck in the rubber piece on Adam’s passenger side window.  He proceeded to take off his glasses and use the end of his side/temple piece to dig out the offending matter, look at it, comment that it’s pink and he wonders what it is, PUT IT IN HIS MOUTH and say it tastes like pizza.  Who digs something out of a window jamb and puts it in their mouth?  Gross. 

At this point, Adam can barely contain himself.  He is forced to relate the above story of our anniversary, and tell the other farmer that what he apparently dug out was not pizza, although he wasn’t too far off.  It was the Italian restaurant’s pasta that I continued to throw up after Adam helped me get back into the truck.  Three years ago.

So let this be a lesson to you all…should you ever feel the need to dig in your friend’s door/window jamb, pick something out and put it in your mouth to determine its origin…you may be surprised to find that it is three year old puke. 

Happy 4th of July! 🙂

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