R.I.P Mr. DirRty Martini,

We are sad to report as the “mothers” of Mr. DM that he came to his plunging death on 08/13/2010…Hi glass was last cleaned by his mother Bianca before she left town for St. Louis on 8/10/2010. On Friday morning at approximately 6:23 AM, I (Winter) came down to feed DirRty before I left for work that day. I noticed that he was oddly jumping at the rim of the glass much like he was wishing there was a rim of salt for him to lick…I advised MR. DM that although Bianca and I love a good margarita too, he lived in a Martini glass and salt with a martini was just plain gross. I sprinkled his orange flakes of food at the top of the water and waved good bye. Sadly, I did not know that when I closed the door behind me that morning, I was closing the door on his life. We would never see him happily swimming in that glass ever again.

Ironically at 7:30PM I walked in from having margaritas at happy hour and went to the kitchen to cook up some dinner. Being a lil’ tipsy, and since Bianca was not there to talk to, I spoke out loud to Mr. DM, “What is that foul smell?” I proceeded to take out the trash, nope the smell was still there...I ran the garbage disposal…nope smell still there. I went to light a candle and peered over to the Martini glass; that’s when I noticed strange white fog in the water like I had never seen before. DiRrty’s pigment looked dull; he no longer sparkled or glistened his usual bright blue. I flicked the glass to get my little boy jumping, but he laid still at the bottom. I then shook the glass, the water sloshed, and nothing. I finally took the end of a scrubbing brush and tenderly poked at him….No response. Jesus, Mary and Joseph…I laid my head on the counter, reached for my cell phone, and called in the time of death to his other Mother, Bianca Sass.

Bianca took the news as well as any mother of a water-child could. Thankfully she was already sitting down when I had to break the tragic news. We discussed how we had just shared with the world the importance of having an aquatic baby in our life. We reminisced about the simply joy he brought us and how we couldn’t have asked for a better beta ….there was a moment of silence. Then, alone, I scooped him up in the net, placed him into a plastic cup, played my ipod for some ceremony music, and marched the cup upstairs to the burial grounds. It was there I dropped Mr. DirRty Martini into the clean toilet bowl, said my final goodbyes, and pressed the burial button ever so gently. I have never been more moved by a toilet…and there in the porcelain bowl, DiRrty took his final swim.

  Rest in Peace MR. DirRty Martini 2/2010 – 8/13/2010

May your life be filled with stiff drinks and strong men, Mr. DM you will be missed.
Bianca & Winter

Baby versus the Beta Fish; my Beta is cuter than yours!

Winter and I would like to take a moment to praise, appreciate and recognize our beloved son Mr. DiRrty Martini. For those of you who aren’t aware, we adopted our darling Beta fish this past February when Winter made a random purchase of a giant Martini Glass; since then our home and hearts have been filled with more love than we could have ever anticipated.

Here are the top ten reasons why you should consider having a Beta fish over a baby (now Mom’s don’t be too jealous):

1. He doesn’t cramp our style

• All my single ladies! -Winter and I can go to Happy Hour, stay at the beach, or even take a weekend trip AND you know what… Mr. DirRty does not bat an eye, shed a tear, or throw a fit. He simply glides through his Martini glass and gives us his blessing.

2. He wants us to spend our hard earnings on our$elve$

• For all of you mothers out there, don’t you sometimes wish you could be selfish, have a day at the spa, a new pair of jeans, or get those shoes in the window you have just been dying over? But instead you find yourself at Toy ‘ R us? Or you miss those trips to Target that cost you a hundred dollars, filled with the newest make up, wine, and books? Now you find your cart is full of diapers and rash cream instead of the inexpensive fish food at 5 bucks a pop once every 3 months (and that’s if we remember to feed him every day!). See this brings us to another great point, you can forget to feed Mr. DirRty and he doesn’t die, cry, or even get mad!

3. He listens and doesn’t talk back

• And you know when babies turn into toddlers and they start to talk back….well not only will Mr. DirRty Martini NEVER talk back; he also has no choice but to listen to us bitch and moan about OUR days. Kids can be so me, me, me. Not Mr. DirRty Martini. Now we’re not saying that he doesn’t act up. He HATES it when we have to change his water; he squiggles around and sometimes flops, hard, onto the counter top. He learns his lesson though, and jumps willingly back into his glass. Let’s be honest, no mom wants to raise her voice, and neither do we, but when we do, he can’t, and I repeat… he cannot talk back.

4. His toys don’t take over our house

• Come on mom’s you know how hard you try to keep those dolls off the counter, the legos off the stairs, and then bam! Right when you pick it up there’s a new mess in the other room….With Mr. DirRty he confesses to every mess he makes…no one else can cloud the water like he does.

5. He never wakes up us in the middle of the night

• With a beta fish like Mr. DirRty there are no 2am feedings, crying in the middle of the night, or diaper changes at ungodly hours. In fact, we have a mutual agreement; we don’t give DiRrty a bedtime as long as he doesn’t wake us up. He is free to swim about through the wee hours. Just like Winter’s mom taught us, wear earplugs, unplug your phone, and wake your dad up if you’re sick. Well since Mr. DirRty doesn’t have a dad (that we are aware of) he has no option but to obey this rule.

6. No dirty diapers or potty training

• Diaper genies…pssssssssssh not in our house! And you know how much diapers costs?!?! Well we don’t since we only have a fish, but rumor has it they are very expensive!

7. He’s not an attention whore

• As single ladies we get sick of hearing “look at the baby, look at the baby!”…and you know what we never hear “look at the beta, look at the beta!”…The thing is, we’re ok with that, and so is Mr. DiRrty. He likes to remain in our shadows and let his parents shine instead. He understands that we are first; he is second.

8. DiRrty doesn’t have crying fits or throw tantrums

• Fits and tantrums in the middle of the grocery store! How embarrassing….well guess what, if we don’t get DiRrty that candy bar or if he misses his nap, DiRrty acts like the mature Beta fish he is and just swims around and around at the brim of his glass….he may flirt with jumping out, but he never does. What a rascal!

9. He never has to be disciplined and is just a happy child

• And as mothers who likes to discipline their child? That’s right, no one. Well since he is water bound, spankings and timeouts are non-existent in our household. It really keeps things Zen and fung shui.

10. He gives amazing advice

• It’s almost like he’s a therapist and psychic all in one. We tell him our problem and he blows bubbles, swims faster, slower, or just lays there and wags his tail…which in fish language can be interpreted as “Have some champagne.” And you know what, after A LOT of research we’ve found that DiRrty is right…champagne can make any situation better and help soothe the most troublesome day away.

While all of you mothers can post updates and pictures about your baby…we will digress and not follow in suit as we would hate for you to be jealous of our new water child. Let us have this top ten list. Keep us posted on your pregnancies, babies, and children; but please do us this one favor… think of Mr. DirRty Martini and what a great addition he is to our home….who knows, maybe you have a single, childless neighbor that may be in need of a water child.

Keep on swimming,

Winter & Bianca

Sandwich artists only....

One Friday after a crazy day at work, Bianca raced over to Main Street to meet Winter and friends for a late Happy Hour. Bianca’s rumbling stomach informed her that the strawberry nirvana jamba juice she slurped down for lunch wasn’t gonna cut it for much longer. Thoughts of a turkey avocado sandwich danced in her head and she prayed that Winter had selected a spot that carried it on the menu. Unfortunately for Bianca, Sharkeez’s Mexican Cantina was the chosen rendezvous.

She sadly went inside and found Winter, her friends, and a pile of mostly eaten plates. “Sorry B,” said Winter “We were starving, but go put your order in…we’re planning on staying here for most the night.” Bianca grabbed a menu and desperately searched it hoping that next to the list of quesadillas, enchiladas, and baja tacos would miraculously be a turkey avocado sandwich… “Damn it,” thought Bianca “Doesn’t Sharkeez know they would make a killing off delicious sandwiches?!” She slammed her menu down, and flagged down the waitress for a drink instead so her thirst could be quenched and the woes of work would be eased away….

A couple hours passed and although Bianca’s craving for a turkey-avo was still strong, her need for anything but an empty stomach was stronger. As she reluctantly made her way up to the bar to order, she suddenly saw a glowing light coming from across the street…and like a sign from heaven, it read…SANDWICHES. Bianca made a bee-line to Winter telling her she’d be right back; and then skipped across the street towards the heavenly neon glow.

As she entered there were about 10 people ahead of her. “Ok, no worries,” she thought “this will move fast.” 30 minutes later she made it to the front of the line. Just as she was about to place her order she saw the cruel words that stated “CASH ONLY”…”Sssshhh*T!” thought Bianca. She looked around and saw an ATM at the back of the store. Hastily, Bianca jumped out of line and pulled out a $20 bill. As she made her way back to the counter, 8 people had somehow formed another line. “I’ve come so close,” thought Bianca “I will eat a sandwich!”

20 minutes passed and it was finally Bianca’s turn. “What can I get you?” asked the owner. “I’ll have a turkey sandwich on wheat with avocado, lettuce, tomato, pickles, mustard and a little pepper, please,” said Bianca with glee. The owner made her sandwich just the way she asked, wrapped it up in paper and handed it to her. “Thank you! Oh, thank you!” said Bianca tearfully with joy.  She could almost taste it.

Bianca walked outside and sat down on a nearby bench. She unwrapped the top of her sandwich and her mouth watered. Just as she was about to take the first bite, her phone rang. Bianca fumbled for her cell with one hand while holding the turkey-avo in the other. “Hello, make it fast, I’m trying to eat here!,” snapped Bianca.

“B, its Dad! Just wanted to say hi.” “Oh, hey dad…things are good, just dying to eat this turkey avocado sand—“ and just then, mid-sentence, the most horrific, unspeakable, traumatic thing happened….a wigger on a bike rolled up and snatched Bianca’s prized sandwich from her hand, and then just kept going. Stunned, confused, angry and most importantly, starving Bianca stood up and started screaming “HEY! WHAT THE F%^K! YOU CAN”T &*^%$*# DO THAT! THAT’S MY $%#@! SANDWICH YOU LOW LIFE #%^& ^%$#@!

Bianca looked around and noticed that everyone on the street was gawking at her. “He stole… he stole my sandwich!” cried Bianca desperately trying to explain. “You’re drunk sweetie, go home,” said a woman. “I am NOT drunk! I am FAMISHED!” barked Bianca. She turned around to go buy another sandwich just as the glowing light went dark and the sign on the door now read “Closed.” “NOOOOOOOOOO!” wailed Bianca. She saw a man with a wrapped up sandwich just sitting down…”I’ll give you $10 for that sandwich sir, it’s all I have, but it’s yours!” she begged. The man quickly got up and walked away. Bianca was clearly entering in the 3rd stage of grief: “Anger and Bargaining.”

“Bianca?”….she heard a voice say calmly….”Bianca, are you alright? Bianca, why are you screaming at people?”   Slowly Bianca realized that her father was still on the other end of the phone. “Oh hey dad…”whispered Bianca. “You know I’m just gonna call you later ok? Bye.” Bianca hung up the phone and decided to head home. On her way she passed a 24-hr convenient store and a smile grazed over her face.

Winter got home later that night and found the kitchen in total disarray. Globs of peanut butter, pieces of wheat bread and drops of jelly were all over the counter and the floor. “What the hell happened here?” laughed Winter “It looks like a 5 year old has been in here finger painting with ummm peanutbutter and jelly.” “What are you talking about?” called Bianca from her room. As Winter walked upstairs, she continued to follow an artistry of peanut butter and jelly that lead all the way to Bianca’s shirt and face.

Hold your sandwich with both hands,

Bianca and Winter

Mario is that you?

While Bianca cleans up from running through the mud, Winter will continue with yet another story of searching for her frog prince…..

One day at work Winter received an email from two new PFGs (Potential Fairy Godmothers), telling her they had a fresh prince prospect; and this one came with a picture and a hot bod! Winter was pleased to hear the PFGs had done some of their homework and were gushing over the prospect’s pic with unanimous seals of approvals.

Winter ripped into the email as soon as it came through, opened the attachment, and was pleasantly surprised to find a shirtless hunk of man meat standing in the ocean smiling back at her. OMG this guy looked like Mario Lopez in his early 30’s (minus the “Slater” mullet and hyper-color muscle tee).

A smile stretched across Winter’s face…Good body – check! Athletic build – check! Cute smile – check! Score! So he had the looks, but did he have game? Although only one of the PFGs had met Mario in a tipsy stupor, she had developed quite the crush on him. But was she just seeing him through beer goggled glasses? No, no…the proof was in the picture….and this picture had a 6 pack with great dimples.

Additionally, one of Mr. Lopez’s friends had advised the PFGs that Mario and Winter had a lot in common with running and enjoying being active.

The PFGs and Winter decided that Mario Lopez definitely deserved a chance- and it was arranged that Winter would meet her potential prince at bar LOM for cocktails.
Upon arrival, Winter ordered a round for herself and the 2 PFGs (who were there as emergency back-ups).

“Winter, I think he’s here, in the corner, OMG, I think that’s him” said the PFG unsure.

“Well what’s the verdict? Does he look like his picture? Are you sure its Mario?” questioned Winter.

“Uhhh…I think so” the other PFG screeched, “It’s him and he’s coming this way!”
Winter felt her stomach drop and her face flush, as she took a deep breath, planted a smile on her face and spun around to meet Mario Lopez….

Well Mario was taller than she anticipated, but he was also 10 years older, 20 pounds lighter, and very straight laced.

As Winter started talking with Mario Lopez, the PFGs look on while they feverishly sucked down their cocktails. This guy was not letting Winter come up for air, and the introductions were more like an interrogation or a military intimidation tactic.

“How fast do you run a mile? What is the furthest you have run? Where do you run? How many times do you work out a week? How often do you drink?... I’m not a drinker. What do you do?

AGGGGGGGGGGH as the questions piled on, he finally took a break, backed off, and headed over to his friend…the PFGs took the opportunity to run over.

“Do you need to be saved? It looks painful.” The PFGs sighed.

“All I can say is, he is NO Mario Lopez, he is more like Mario Lopez’s DAD! I’d rather have the teen-age A.C. Slater than deal with this guy!”

At that moment it was decided that Winter needed an escape route. A hand signal was determined, and another round was ordered. Winter slowly started creeping away from the game of 20 questions and flashed the hand signal that it was time to exit. As a group, the PFGs and Winter approached Mario Lopez, said good bye, and walked out the door without looking back.

Lesson for the day….when obtaining potential prince pictures, ask them to hold a newspaper with today’s date or at least time stamp that sucker. As Winter learned, pictures do lie and judging this book by its cover was no help. Mario Lopez was just another frog in this princess’s story tale.

6-Pack or Tall Boy,

Bianca and Winter

One more round...mudslide please!

Dirty, filthy, hot and sweaty…get your mind out of the gutter...I’m simply describing the annual Camp Pendelton Mud Run that Winter and I run. Unlike other 10Ks, the Mud Run is full of obstacles, mud (duh), fire hoses, streams, slippery hills, and young men in uniform. This year the course was much more enjoyable for me to run, mostly due to the fact that this time I was sober. Let me take you back to the first mud run that we ran…

I had the Friday off before our Saturday 7am run and that doesn’t include the 5:00 AM wake up call, the military doesn’t mess around, so I decided to meet one of my guy friends…we’ll call him Jose…for “lunch”. Jose was picking the place and selected a local bar; this did raise a red flag in my mind, but against my better judgment I went anyways.

There sitting not at the table, but bellied up to the bar, was Jose. He had a devilish grin as he greeted me and as I went to hug him, my hand returned to me with an iced cold Coors lt. (hey, he works for the company…this is not my favorite beer).

“Just what is this?” I asked. “Oh come on Bianca…it’s F*ck’n noon, it’s F*ck’n summer and it’s an F*ck’n Friday…relax” smirked Jose. (I feel I should also note that the most common words in Jose’s vocabulary are “F*ck” and “F*ck’n”) Reluctantly I sighed, “ok but Just this one.”

My teeny tiny bladder never holds up long so I got up to use the ladies room and much to my surprise when I returned, there in plain sight, right in front of my bar stool laid a shiny, new ice cold silver bullet. “Jose you’ve got to be kidding me!” I shrieked. “Bianca…it’s not even F*ck’n one and it’s a light beer. You just ate, now just drink your free beer, f*ck” said Jose. “Ok, fine…but this is it…no more!” I asserted sternly.

Fast forwarded to 4 beers later as I stumble out of the bathroom. “Those beers are really starting to add up,” I thought “I’m telling Jose I’m leaving and what the????”...there on the bar counter was 2 vodka-crans and two shots of something that screamed “I’m-gonna-F-Bianca-up.”

“JOSE! Seriously…I have to run a 10K tomorrow” I yelled as I punched his shoulder. “Bianca, this is it, I f*ck’n promise. Let’s just cheers with these drinks and then you can go” he stated innocently.

Fast-forward to 3 cocktails, 3 shots, and me now seriously shit-canned later. I knew what I had to do…I had to call Winter and have her come pick me up ASAP. “Heeeeyaaa Winter” I slurred. “Oh my god, you’re drunk!” she screeched, “I’m gonna kill Jose! I don’t care how wasted you are, you will be running in this race with me tomorrow! ”

Winter arrived hydrated and sober and didn’t set foot in the bar, pulled up for a quick getaway, and threw my drunken butt in the car but not before she gave Jose her best death stare. At 5 a.m. she woke me up with a bottle of water and a couple of vitamin B12s. “I have a feeling this is too little too late, but it’s the best I can do to help you” Winter sighed. “I feel fine” I noted seriously as I tumbled out of bed still lacking balance… “Ok well maybe I feel fine because I’m still drunk, but it’s all good.”

Winter made me some breakfast, but the smell of the english muffin alone was enough to make me queasy. “This is bad” I thought to myself. As we arrived at the starting line the fuzziness in my head was soon replacing itself with painful throbs and frequent trips to the handy porta potties were a must, was it nerves or the booze still leaving my body? “At least it’s overcast” said Winter cheerfully. The start shot rang, along with my pounding headache, and off into the 6 mile mud course we went.

Suddenly the sun made its grand entrance and all I could think was “F*ck!...F the sun, F Coors lt…and F Jose!” After about 2 miles, I thought maybe I could muster up the strength to finish this thing with a little dignity…but then there was the hill…and not just any hill, but the mother of all hills…the altitude actually changes 3 times during this hill….and the military affectionately calls it “Suicide Hill”, at that moment I knew it was only a matter of time before dignity would be no more than a mere memory.

As Winter and I began our way up, the distance between us kept growing. She turned around to wait, but I waved her on. I swore no matter how slow I had to pace, that I would keep running. And run I did…even with hurling and christening the course over 4 times, pleading with the men in uniform to lift me over the 5 foot wall instead of me having to climb it, and cursing so much I would make a sailor blush…I completed that dang course.

Winter met me at the finish line and couldn’t help but laugh as she saw me cross in all my hung-over glory. The moral of this story is simple…never think you are strong willed enough to have just one drink before a race…but more importantly if you do…never make that drink a Coors lt.

Run or Stumble through It

Bianca and Winter

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