I see London, I see France...

It was two in the morning. And admittedly, I should have already been in bed, but I wasn't. I got wrapped up in Fatal Attractions—why, why, why would you handle poisonous snakes with bare hands??—and could only bring myself to turn off the T.V. when they started playing re-runs. So then I took Tucker out for his last potty break of the night, and that's when it dawned on me.

It felt amazing outside. There was a chill in the air, a rather boisterous breeze. After spending a day on campus in almost-ninety degree weather, it was bliss.

So I came back inside, flung open the balcony door (okay, well, it's a sliding door, so..."flung" is just for dramatic effect), turned off every light except my nightlight, and kicked back on the sofa. I could feel the cool breeze, was enjoying listening to the sound of the wind and some crickets, had started to feel completely relaxed. The perfect way to wrap up a long day.

And then the SUV drove up. It might have been a Jeep. I'm really not sure. I can only attest to the fact that it was silver and full of girls.

They parked it in front of my building; not a totally unusual occurrence, since they apparently just needed to drop their friends off. Out emerged two tanned and dolled up girls. Back from a night of partying, I assume. Laughing, giggling, staggering. Drunk. And if there had been any question of their intoxication in my mind, out it went when I heard, "Oh my god, I am so drunk!"

They made it up to the sidewalk well enough, and their friends drove away past my building, did a U-turn at the next one, and decided it would be like, super fun to honk at their friends as they headed for the exit. Their inebriated friends laughed and waved and stumbled towards what I can only assume is their apartment.

It might be super fun for you two, but honey, it's two in the morning. The rest of us are not quite so amused.

After these two girls disappeared, I resumed lounging on the sofa. I was thinking, "Okay. Noisiness is over, enjoy the breeze. Relax again. Then go to bed."

But no such luck. I soon learned that the noisiness was not over at all.

Suddenly, instead of just the sound of the wind, I heard muffled country music and the roar of an engine. A red convertible Mustang pulls up, blaring his stereo—loud enough that I can hear it from the third floor of my building even though he has his windows up. And can I just say that, at two in the morning, it doesn't matter what kind of music you're listening to; if it's cranked up, it's annoying.

He parked facing away from me, headlights still on, and killed the music. So then I thought, "Well that's nice. At least he switched it off before opening his car door or rolling down a window." Only then, instead of shutting off his car and getting out, he just sat there. The headlights stayed on. And then the music turned on again.

He sat there for several minutes and then, lo and behold, who should come back on the scene but the two not-so-sober girls from before. I could hear them before I could see them, giggling and laughing, as if completely unaware of the fact that it's now two thirty in the morning and most people are trying to sleep.

They walked between my car an the car next to me, headed for none other than Mr. Mustang. Who knew?

Both of them were still stumbling a bit, and one of them ran into the car parked next to me. Her friend said something along the lines of, "Watch out for the car," or, "Don't hit the car." To which the other girl replied, "As long as it's not my car!" and, as she laughed in a manner that said, "Heheh, I'm such a rebel," she proceeded to purposefully bump into the car next to me several times as she passed by, using whatever it was she was holding in her hands to thump along the side.

Sweetheart, that's not cute.

And then, the kicker. The punch line. The you've-got-to-be-kidding-me moment.

As I watched them head for the Mustang, worried that next they'll decide it'd be funny to bang against my car, I realized that one of the girls wasn't wearing quite what she was wearing when she got dropped off.

Somewhere along the way, she had lost her pants. And shoes. All that's left is a top and her underwear.

This didn't seem to phase her at all. I had to do a double-take to make sure my eyes weren't deceiving me. I thought, "Surely those shorts are just really short, because normal people don't hang around outside of an apartment building in their underwear, right?"

Wrong.

They were most definitely not shorts.

I just can't imagine. Even when drunk, I have never had the urge to show myself in public in my panties. In fact, even when I've had perhaps a bit too much to drink, I come home, make it up the stairs to my third-floor apartment, pop a leash on my dog, and take him out to use the bathroom before we go to bed. So I don't know what this girl's excuse is...

The last thing I heard her say as she and her friend headed back inside for the second time? "Oh my gosh! I can't believe I did that! I am so embarrassed!"

Well, hindsight is 20/20. And I, for one, didn't need to sight your hind.

Live and learn.

Get'choo some.

I got all these cartoons from NatalieDee.com. She is hilarious. I deserve no credit for them. I'm just sayin'.