Mrs. Jones and Me

"The Diary of Bridget Jones" struck such a chord with me, that I'm amazed it didn't shatter my hurricane proof windows at the time of my viewing. Not only could I relate to her being in her thirties, overweight (yeah, right, I wasn't overweight, I was tothemoonweighted), and single, but I also would suffer through her episodes of painful embarrassment with just as much pain that she was enduring at that moment as well. Heart aches, heart breaks, over joyed, unemployed...you name it, she did it, and, many times, so did I.

Watching Bridget trip across her life was a bit like watching my own, and I'm thinking that was the case for others as well. My drink of choice wasn't vodka straight from the bottle, it was Cosmos (I was a Sex in the City fan as well, der). And yes, I smoked (long skinny menthol), danced, went out all night and came home late in the mornings, and dragged my not so willing butt to work the next day. My friends were as cool, if not cooler, than Bridget's, and yes, I even had a few gay ones as well. We were definitely cooler than everyone else. So, age and weight, (check), wild nights spent with variety of friends (check), painful embarassment...ah...yes.

Admit it, we all have these moments...painful embarrassment. I will be the first to admit that not only have I had moments of painful embarrassment, I have had MANY moments of painful embarrassment. To imbibe, and heavily imbibe in the consumption of alcoholic drinks seems to lend a helpful hand in creating quite a few of these moments. Oh, like the time there was orange juice, cranberry juice, vodka, and bar-b-qued sausage, all consumed at different stages of the evening, and all deciding to make an appearance later on that evening. Together. Holding hands, even. Not the best way to impress (Okay, so this wasn't when I was in my thirties...I was actually like 18, and trying my damnedest to impress what's his name now that I'm a couple of decades older....AND WISER that I now forget who he even was). But being young, clueless, and naive, I forgave myself this one small...teeny tiny...event. Of course, as you age, like wine in a barrel or cheese in a wedge, comes wisdom.

Yep, you learn how to read the signs that state if you have one more fruity cocktail, then you'll learn the true meaning behind "two for the price of one." It is at this point where I will thank the god(s) for sending my friends my way, and of course, vice versa. They saved my ass from many an embarrassing morning after. Oh, like the time in the parking lot...with a beautiful Frenchman...after a night of dancing...pulling me out of the club holding hands...Yes, I fell in love after knowing him for only 29 minutes (You would have as well if he whispering sweet french nothings in your "I haven't been a bad girl in waaaaay too long.") ear. Fortunately for me, Margie and Claudia came tripping along and pulled me away from the Frenchman. I still remember tenderly waving from the window of her car, the tires snick snicking away, while I waved to my Frenchman (who straightened his color and went back in to find another fool...er...victim...er...girl). Ah, friends. Good thing Bridget and I had the best of them, huh?

Fortunately, and after dating a couple of the same guys Bridget had dated (Meet Ben and Jerry), I began the process of settling. Found a job, a good job, one that paid the bills which in turn allowed me to make even more bills, WOO! Found a fella, a good fella (cue Van Morrison singing, "Someone Like You."), one that paid the bills which in turn allowed me to make even more bills. Got married (take that Bridget), and so on and so forth.

My embarrassing moments weren't all sloshed related...like when I sprained my hand trying to wave at someone through a closed window, or each time I wave at someone I don't think I know but maybe I do because I think they are waving at me but in truth they are waving at someone standing in back of me (admit it, you all have done that before). And fortunately, Bridget has gotten over Vodka and Chaka Chan, while I have gotten over Cosmos and Ben and Jerry (well, I still do occassionally visit with Ben and Jerry...they helped me over SOOOO many hurdles ta ha, and girdles). It is still nice to know that we have each other to cry with, aggrieve with, and laugh with.

Ah, Miss Jones.