Tacos with Trish

Recently, I had the entertaining privilege of hanging out with a group of ladies that I don't know very well. In these kinds of circumstances, I always get nervous and anxious about the whole ordeal. It may come as a shock, but I am really a shy person around people until I get to know them. When I got invited to "Taco Night" with a group of somewhat strangers, I just knew I would end up in the corner, shy and embarrassed at corn chips stuck in my teeth or something. I wasn't even Facebook friends with these people! They knew nothing about me! But, I decided to go anyway.

I was asked to bring a Taco dip and some salt for the margaritas. This was strange to me. Who in the world can't provide salt for their own party? Did she really not have salt? I thought it was weird, but I grabbed some Morton's and off I went. 

When I walked in this girl's house, it was as if I had stepped inside Pier One. Her house was decorated absolutely beautifully. My first thought was, "if she can splurge 75 bucks on a vase, surely she has some salt in the house." Everything was really nice. How can you not have a good time in such a pretty home? I was introduced to the other women and everyone was very cordial. I had my moments of anxiousness and not knowing what to say, but overall everyone was very welcoming. We had some mutual friends, who we discussed at length (because we really had nothing else to discuss), I chewed my corn chips carefully so that nothing got stuck in my braces, I stayed away from the refried beans, and it turned out to be a pleasant evening. Until Trish.

Trish is not even this girl's real name. I think it was Danielle, but I am not certain. From the moment I saw her, I was convinced that she looked like a "Trish". I don't know what exactly constitutes a "Trish", but she was it.

Trish was very close to my age. She may have been pushing 32 or 33. But, Trish looked old. Trish had an old woman's haircut. I don't mean that her hair was simply short-my hair is short now, I have several friends with awesome short haircuts- I just mean that it was incredibly short and incredibly tight rolled. She really had the same hairdo as my 101 year old Gran Gran Bessie. 

Trish, although in her early thirties, was also wearing an appliqued sweatshirt. It had a picture of a sparkly blonde kitten and a large ball of red yarn. I thought for a moment that I was being punked. Surely someone as young as this lady did not think that an article of clothing with animals on it was appropriate. She also had on mom jeans, that were pulled up to her shoulders and tapered at the ankle, and a baby blue pair of Saucony tennis shoes. I like Saucony tennis shoes. I don't like them with a kitten sweatshirt and mom jeans. She also sold Tupperware or something. Of course she did.

When I realized that Trish was serious and I wasn't on candid camera, I felt really bad. She was probably a really sweet gal.  She might have thought I looked moronic sitting there in trouser jeans and cowboy boots. Who was I to judge?

Then Trish decided to speak. I was annoyed. Trish had nothing to say to me, and she was incredibly stuck up, although I have no clue why. Trish droned on and on about her daughter's softball team and how travel ball was horrible and she didn't make it home until 3 AM one morning, and her daughter really hated playing, but they had invested so much time and money in it that her daughter would be playing ball until she was retired. From this conversation, I concluded that Trish is entirely too competitive. I really loathe competitive mothers that live vicariously through their children. I could tell that Trish probably yelled from the bleachers at her kid's softball games, and she probably stormed the field and hit the umpire with a bat if things didn't go her way. Again, I was annoyed.

Trish spewed on forever about softball, her husband's laziness, the squeaking brakes on her Honda Odyssey. Trish wasn't humorous, either. Trish talked to be heard and no one really gave a crap about anything she had to say. After staring at her kitty shirt and listening to her bitching about Hobby Lobby's cheap popsicle sticks, I had had enough. I was just waiting on the perfect time to make my exit.

Out of left field, Trish decided she would down a couple of margaritas. I rarely drink-maybe once a month- but it takes a heck of a lot more than 2 margaritas to make me crapfaced.  When I noticed Trish was pouring the tart crap down her throat at high speeds,  I knew it wouldn't take much for this lady to get wasted. I decided to stick around because I knew things were about the get interesting. And they did.

First came the hicups. They were loud, they were incessant, they were like a dog barking-everyone heard it, no one said anything about it, but it was annoying everyone to no end. Then came the attempted sense of humor. It wasn't my kind of humor, but Trish thought she was hilarious. Then came the falling out of the kitchen chair. A Saucony shoe went flying, the kitten and yarn ball hit the floor, and yet the old woman haircut didn't move an inch. She must have been using Aqua Net.

I have to say that if one of my drunk friends falls out of a kitchen chair, I will be laughing hysterically before I help pick them up. These ladies weren't laughing. All they could do was gasp and run to her aid. I, however, managed to chuckle a little to myself. Of course it isn't funny if someone gets hurt, but it is funny when a 32 year old gets wasted on 3 margaritas and falls out of her seat-while wearing the outfit that she was wearing.

Once Trish was dusted off and erect, it was time for me to go. I thanked everyone for the lovely evening, I was told "Find me on Facebook!" (which I didn't), and I made my way home. Before I left, Trish was sitting on the couch, looking through her coupon binder, and asking the hostess if she had any BC Powder.

I love my usual group of girlfriends, and although I am shy at times, I really do enjoy meeting new people and making new friends. On this particular night, what an added bonus Trish was. She is truly  blogging material.