Honey Bunches of Posts

Morning Thoughts

It was an exhausting weekend - a rock concert at the House of Blues, (featuring my Hubby, of course), two graduation parties, and an arabic wedding.  Obviously, HOB was the highlight of my weekend.  

Saturday was show day.  Show day is a day that is all about Ramzi... every second.  We spend an hour picking out and trying on outfits, there's a couple hours of noise (aka running through the set, packing up equipment), and finally, the hair.  I usually spend 10-15 minutes flat ironing Ramzi's hair.  Then he's off to the House of Blue for soundcheck and I'm left to the messy, silent house.  I made an appearance at the first family graduation party (Congrats again Monica!), and then I finally made it to the show with everyone.  Of course, while everyone was mingling and cocktail sipping, I was in back stage in the Insecurities dressing room dealing with the head of previously straightened hair.  It had fallen during sound check and needed a touch up.  But between who was wearing what and belting out last minute harmonies, chaos and nerves were all in the air.  Nothing I did to Ramzi's hair would make him happy. Straightened, waxed, more wax... We finally settled on gelling it, because quite frankly, I couldn't take anymore!  And you thought you were fussy about getting ready!  

The show went great, the boys really look awesome on a big stage!  After the show it's the after party - and this is where I got freaked out, at HOB's Foundation Room.  All was well except for repeated random encounters with another band guy's girlfriend, drunk and obnoxious.

This girl, who shall remain unnamed, grabbed my boob.  When I gave her a dirty look and said, "Wow, that's rude and uncomfortable," she leaned in, made a drunk grunt, and then blew in my ear!  I cast another dirty look and got up off my bar stool and walked away.  Think she'd get the hint?  No way, this one is flat out dumb.  I was mid-conversation in front of the fireplace when she came up, again whispering something distorted and groaning, and the I felt her grab one side of my ass, hard.  I loudly said "WTF?!" to which she whispered, "You liked it," grabbed the other side of my ass and staggered off.     

Maybe it was my fault.  I wore a super tight and short dress (a.k.a. the sausage dress) and my hair was all over the place.  But please... if every man in the venue could restrain himself from reaching out and grabbing a handful of my ass, certainly a classy lady could as well?  My mistake though... this girl was far from classy.  You see, she's the kind of girl that gets obnoxiously drunk, makes out with people, makes it very sexual and totally awkward.  And I've heard time and time again people defend her saying, "That's just her.  She's just drunk."

Yeah, well I don't give a shit.  Enough is enough.  Since when is "drunk" an excuse?  I'm actually pretty offended that I was treated that way.  I mean if she was a dude, fists would have been thrown.  But since she's a not, nothing was done?  I'm not saying I wanted to brawl, no, no.  I'm simply contemplating my actions for the next encounter, because it will happen again.  

I don't get mad anymore.  I get even.