Knock, Knock...Who's There?

Knock knock…”Who's there?” whispers Winter to Bianca. A few moments pass, then another… knock knock …”Seriously, who the hell is there?” quietly shrieks Winter. “Shhhhhh” Bianca hushes as she motions to Winter to remain still. The mysterious someone knocks on the front door yet again, and this time precedes to rings the bell, and shout "Helloooooo!" We look at each other with terror and do the only sensible thing that two single girls who aren’t expecting guests do…we run and hide. Now we aren’t exactly sure how this all started, but what we do know is that we don’t answer the door to surprise visitors.


We have a lot of memories with what’s behind the front door: One from our dear friend Tammy "breaking" into our apartment at 2AM only to find Bianca panicked and holding a paring knife and Winter bewildered with fists up and ready to start doing some serious Turbo Kickboxing damage to the intruder (those flashy aerobic classes have taught us some mad skills)…another from our friendly neighbor delivering dinner….and others from when one of us have locked ourselves out of the house (yes it’s true, not only do our friends lock us out of their houses…sorry Big Booty Judy- guilty as charged, but we lock ourselves out too.)

So here’s the usual rundown: (1) Doorbell rings, (2) We mute the TV, (3) We run quickly and quietly to the stairs, (4) We look out Bianca's bedroom window to see if the top of the person's head looks familiar, and (5) We begin analyzing who it could be.

“Is it Pete? He did text me earlier today,” Bianca says….”but it doesn't seem like him to just stop by.” “Maybe it’s Matt (our friendly postal worker neighbor)” – says Winter, “he sometimes brings us our packages when we’re too scared to open the door for the FedEx guy.” “Maybe it’s the damn consensus people again, they’ve left a note on our door 4 times now” sighs Bianca. This banter goes on until the door stops ringing, the visitor leaves…and the mystery guests almost always remains unknown.

This technique though silly, has kept the mass murders, rapists and psychos of Huntington Beach at bay, however it does back fire on occasion. For example a few weekends ago Winter had to get up early and take her car into the dealership. Now we had been out late the night before drinking and dancing our lives away, so Winter shot up out of bed like a pop tart when she realized she had overslept and was late for the appointment. She threw some clothes on and rushed out the door. Winter wore sneakers and decided a walk home wouldn't hurt her as the dealership isn’t far. As Winter began her walk home she realized she didn’t have her house key, but Bianca was at home asleep so she could just call and wake her up. Sh*t no phone…bit of a wrinkle in the plan, but no problem, there’s always the door bell and she knows her BFF is a light sleeper so waking her will be an easy task. WRONG.

With all the contraptions that Bianca uses to sleep, including but not limited to: eye masks, a sound machine, and lavender spray; she couldn’t hear the doorbell. Winter then began throwing rocks at her window, ringing the doorbell and then scurrying up against the gate so Bianca would see her and realize it was her and not a Huntington Beach molester on the loose. She attempted this several times, and soon became exhausted and defeated.

Winter sat down on the stairs and after a half hour of lounging on the front porch, she wrote a note on the back of her receipt from the car dealership and slid it under the door. It read: “Dear Bianca, please open the door. If you’re missing your BFF she’s locked out and on the porch- has to pee and is quite hungry. Sincerely Winter”

Winter began to play songs with the ringing of the doorbell and alternated it with loud thugging knocks. Eventually Bianca, stumbled out of her room, looked across the hall and found Winter's bed empty. She walked down stairs, opened the front door, and peered down at Winter laying on the cement. “What the hell are you doing?” asked Bianca.

“Backfire”, Winter thought to herself. Maybe next time the doorbell rings she’ll just look through the peep hole and see who it is…NAH…that would take the fun out of it.

Call or Text before dropping by,
Bianca and Winter

It all began with a baseball game in San Diego...and 2 liters of wine

As we sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic while traveling south on the 405 this past Memorial weekend, cruising down to SD…or should we say creeping since we didn’t hit over 20 MPH for a solid hour and a half…we began to reflect on our first visit down to San Diego. It was last August to meet up with one of Bianca’s new MBA friends and her roomy, who we will respectively call Big Booty Judy (BBJ) and Rhonda…

We were headed to the Padres versus Cardinals baseball game, and although the weather wasn’t as picturesque as SD can be, we still fully planned on getting into some major shenanigans. As soon as we entered into their digs, we knew this was the start of a beautiful friendship, for there on their kitchen counter laid one of the most breath taking images anyone could envision at 2 in the afternoon…an open liter of chardonnay and 4 glasses poured full to the brim. Just mentioning it brings tears to our eyes.
The potential for developing mischief was endless, much like the liter of wine and the backup in the fridge…scratch that because the 4 of us actually did kill both bottles before the game…no rookies here!

So we (Bianca & Winter), and our new beloved pals (BBJ & Rhonda) all hopped in a cab for a trip to Petco park. We met up with more of their friends and occupied the upper deck patio bar; it was then we moved from the minor leagues (wine) to the majors (vodka cocktails). The game was slow moving- so we did what any normal tipsy group of girls do- we began a photo shoot with the stadium as the backdrop that would make Tyra Banks herself proud. Of course we also took time to make friends with the important people (remember Winter’s golden rule…always make friends with the bartenders and security guards).
Once the 7th inning stretch came and the Cards fate was sealed with a capital “L” …we decided that getting something else in our bellies besides booze was a good idea…now this may be a good time to mention that Bianca and Winter are girls who have to eat when they drink…otherwise black outs & unmentionably bad things happen.

Winter spotted a Fuddruckers and decided it was a must! She claimed she hadn’t been there since she was a young lassie and recalled the paper cookies they gave you to redeem a warm hot fresh one at the end of your meal (insert fat girl moment). 4 burgers and some fresh cut fries later, we wanted this team to move on to the Gas Lamp District.

None of our team can recall what bar we made our way into, but what we do remember is the dancing, the photo shoots in front of the big fans like real top models (again…somewhere Tyra is smiling), and then suddenly all getting split up. We (Bianca & Winter) found ourselves strolling across the street to an Irish bar…BBJ was nowhere to be found, and Rhonda was last spotted not in outfield but out on the patio of the bar across the street meeting new friends…and then it was closing time. After multiple phone calls to BBJ and all of them going unanswered- we flagged down a cab, but had no idea where “home” was. And then a miracle occurred…Bianca remembered BBJ’s and Rhonda’s address!!!! (This is a miracle because Bianca can’t remember how to get anywhere ever! I mean EVER).

After the cab dropped us off, we celebrated that we had made it back….but that celebration was short-lived. Bianca continued her efforts with calling BBJ while Winter rang the doorbell furiously in hopes of waking up the 2 sleeping beauties locked inside. Winter took her investigation skills to a new level, looked under the mat for a key, in the potted plant for a key, and then moved on to the windows. Bianca then tried to open up one of the windows on ground levels, but all she managed to do was bust open the screen instead. We’ve locked ourselves out of our own house many times before….but this place was like Fort Knox!

Moving on, we walked around back…and sh*t there was a privacy fence that towered well above both of our heads. As Bianca looked around, the neighbors security spot light blared down upon us like Micheal and Lincoln from the hit TV series Prison Break…we swiftly moved from that location. Then Bianca saw a small hole dug at the bottom of the fence- but by the look on Winter’s face, it appeared that wasn’t going to happen. Bianca then attempted to hoist Winter up and over the fence- Mission Failed!
Bianca insisted again that Winter just at least try to see how big the hole was and maybe with a little bit more digging she could sneak under. But like it or not, Winter is no dog and this didn’t work either; all it did was dirty her cute Cardinals tee. With one last ditch effort we rang the door bell…and all that answered back was pure silence.

At the end of the night, there was nothing but a broken screen, filthy clothes and a loss of pride to show our exhausted efforts. Bianca pulled out her car keys and unlocked her tiny shiny little silver cobalt. We didn’t even have to exchange words since we both knew what it came down to…sleeping in the car. The trunk popped and luckily a blanket for each of us lay in the back. Bianca, respectively climbed into the driver’s seat and reclined with blanket, while Winter hesitantly got into the co-pilot seat with nowhere to go…reclined…and repeated like a broken record “are the doors locked…Bianca are the doors locked…did you lock the doors…B, what about the doors, are they locked?” until she finally passed out.

We were awoken early by the sunrise and a phone call from BBJ wondering where the heck we were… “Did you meet baseball players without me? How did we get separated? Did you guys end up staying at a hotel?” Bianca said “Well…kinda, just open your front door, look to your right, and you can see us our motel on wheels.” As we brought our chairs back up to an incline, we inadvertently scared the living tar out of an old married couple who gasped in horror. We stepped out of the car in our “going-out-muddy-slept-in” attire, and braved the humiliation of the walk of shame. On our journey to BBJ’s house we encountered a young handsome guy walking his dog who managed to laughingly say good morning; and a mom and her young children already up and playing in the front yard…I’m sure we screamed a good cautionary-tale of “what sort of girls you don’t want to become.”

Although we were forced to sleep in Bianca’s car that night, somehow it didn’t wreck our new friendship…Instead we stayed an additional night and (gasp) actually got to crash on the couches. However, since the “incident”, we keep in mind that there is always a possibility the night may leave us slumbering in our cars. Every time an invite is extended from BBJ and Rhonda to visit, we specifically ask, “We’d love to…but can we crash IN your house?”

Sleeping beauties,
Bianca & Winter