Moist Panties and Georgia O'Reeffe

My mother and I were driving through the entire damned country from end to end when we stopped at Sante Fe for the night, intent on seeing the famed Georgia O'Keeffe museum. I was rummaging through my glove compartment looking for a tire gauge when I found a tin of unlabeled, chocolate-covered coffee beans I had long since forgotten I had. Now, I know myself--I know these were laced with THC. I know these were likely an extremely high dosage. I know these were medicinal strength. But long ago having peeled off the label for reasons that were once obvious to me, I had no idea just how concentrated these fuckers were. That didn't stop me from sucking them down with two cups of coffee in the hotel lobby before we walked over to the museum.

Within about an hour's time, I was standing in the museum's research lobby on a tour surrounded by a small crowd of little old ladies, led by a stern man telling us all not to touch anything. "Are you alright?" My mom kept asking. Now, keep in mind my mom has no idea I was ingesting what was probably ten times the recommended dose of medicinal-grade marijuana. This room is 110 degrees. This room is spinning. I need to sit down. I sit down.

The next thing I know I'm sitting in the lobby surrounded by five male EMTs taking my pulse, trying to give me sips of water from a lukewarm bottle.

"Womanly things," I insist. "Cramps. Terrible woman cramps. Awful."

"Are you sure? Do you always pass out from cramps?"

"Oh sure, always."

"Are you sure you're not pregnant?"

"Oh god, no. Men are vile."

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hos-"

"No, god, no. Just let me sit here and rest, please."

"You're going to have to sign this release saying you refused to-"

"FINE! JUST GO AWAY! HOLY CRAP! IT'S MY UTERUS, OK! MY UTERUS."

I told my mom in the bathroom what happened.

She never shuts up about it.

Around 5 years ago I went to a barbeque with my boyfriend and I got super drunk. He and his friends dropped me off at home, and I remember getting into my bed (sort of). When I woke up the next morning, I only had my panties on, and was sleeping on top of the bed, boobs hanging out all. Oh, did I mention I was still living at my parents' house? To this day I doubt whether anyone came in my room and saw me.

I got up with the worst hangover ever, and realized there was a moist towel next to my bed. And my hair was wet. I went to the bathroom to check out what had happened, and found the underwear I was wearing the night before completely soaked in the clothes hamper. There was also a pair of unused socks rolled into a ball, completely soaked as well--my best guess is that I took a shower in the middle of the night with my underwear on… no idea about the socks though. As I looked down I realized I was wearing the underwear I had worn two days ago and left in the hamper. Also, I was wearing the butt part in the front.

I went back to my room and found a rugby ball next to the bed. That I have no idea about…