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Thursday, July 25, 2013

Hunter Mountain Heart Failure


One fine, snowy weekend,

Lori and I decided to go to our

Ski House at



Hunter Mountain

on a girls-only outing.



She told me that she had invited


a co-worker.









As I recall,


a small chill

went down my spine.




I don't  know why, exactly.






Then we discovered that the

 co-worker had


failed to inform anyone



e.g. SURPRISE US!!!!










that she had invited  

her psychotic sister.










Dana, the psychopath.





At first, they seemed


 like a


 hoot & a half.














They were like night and day,

in appearance



and, well


everything else.





Mostly Morals.






Debbie was


somewhat sweet...





Dana was a nightmare.








This girl spent


the first 30 seconds I met her


ragging on her


stupid-ass boyfriend,


who built her a


multi-million dollar home



in a tony town in
 
Westchester County, New York.






This man owned and operated his own



auto body repair shop.


 



She was pretty much using him,

to get everything

 that she could manage to get from him.



She was pretty.


But she wasn't that pretty.




I guess she had that


certain..... jenesequa











that he just couldn't

do without.


Whatever.




I sat with my mouth

 wide open,

listening to her go on and on

to an almost total stranger

about what a schmuck he was...


















for all that she had


already



managed to take from him,

apparently without his

 conscious consent.










So, after a good


 6 minutes of



her braggery

about the


Green Metallic Jag-U-R


he provided







Ooops.




Wrong Pic.











and the size of her pool

that he dug with his

own two hands,










she said she


 couldn't stand him,

had no respect for him,

yet was pleasantly surprised to find

 
that she was having


 the time of her life...





all on his dime.












I didn't even know
 this poor fool,


but sooooo desperately

wanted to

find him and buy him



 a few cups of coffee...






She then painted us a picture


of her wedding day

(to someone else)

when she came down

with a raging





Kidney Stone.








She had a $50,000 wedding


& didn't care if


she had blood


dripping from


her tiara...








she was, in fact, 




getting married.




She was in such excrutiating pain,

that the doctor had given her multiple

rounds of Morphine


that morning.




She was so trashed,

that they had to wheel her into

the church..


Her head was hanging

off the vinyl back

 
of the wheelchair,

as her veil was getting caught up

in the wheels &


pulling on her head

like an upside down puppet.







The groom had NO IDEA

what had taken place

that morning,

so he was shell-shocked to see

his beautiful bride


drooling,


cursing &

singing at the top of her lungs,

 as she was wheeled down

 the aisle to him.



She swore to us that when the priest

asked if she took this man

 to be her husband,

she loudly announced,


"Hey Father,


What The F#$ck do YOU think??"







So. It's Friday night in Hunter Mountain.

The bestest night of the week


in Ski Country, New York.



We were four ladies


(actually, make that three...



the other one was a dirtbag)




looking to go out and

find us a little fun

in the downtown boondocks

of Tannersville, New York.




In the parking lot of our Condo,


it was quickly and unfairly decided


that we were NOT taking my


leaking, Cutlass Supreme to the hot-spot.


We were going in Dana's


extortion mobile.


When we got outside, Lori thought I 


was drooling over the car,


as I gently petted it.


What she didn't realize

was that I was crying on the inside,

remembering my

METALLIC GREEN

PEA PICKER...








The color had stuck in my little brain,

all of my life &



I found myself drawn to the color,

whenever I'd come upon it.



So no, short of chucking

all of my values out

the window,


I'd sooner take the bus

 everywhere I went,


as opposed to using a man for a


luxury form of transportation:



PROVIDED THAT BUS WAS

HUNTER GREEN METALLIC ...





The club we went to

was packed....


Now, I was no stand-out

in a crowd,








but I was deeply & thoroughly

enjoying myself.


We had struck up a conversation

with a group of nice gentlemen

 
& we were dancing &

 drinking & dancing

& hanging out.

It was just one of those nights

when you were completely ON.


Ya know?



They laughed at my jokes,

bought me drinks

and danced with me.

A lot.


Lori was the bystander...


she had a boyfriend,


back in Westchester.



It was just a good,

fun night.


About an hour

into my mayhem,

Lori comes over,

grabs my arm & says,

"We're Out Of Here...Wrap it up."



"Whhhhhaaaaaa????" I literally cried.



"Debbie is having


a HEART ATTACK &

we need to leave."




Wait.



What does that

have to do with me????


I don't know this woman.


I sure as hell

despised her sister &

I wasn't quite ready

to make hay.


My CPR skills weren't even
 all that great, for Christ's sake!



"Are You Alright? Are You Ok?

Oooooh! I love this song!!!!"



I was always easily bored.


As I was dragged

off the dance floor,

I was sort of whining, crying &

stomping my feet

that my fun night had come

to a very screeching halt.




The next thing I know,

Lori & I are squooshed

into the backseat of

Dana's PussyMobile.




Well? What would you call it???



Dana the ho, is whipping down

Route 28

to the hospital in




Saugerties.



(Really??????)




I sure would


have begged to


be airlifted to Westchester.


 
Just saying.



This chick could not
drive for shit.



 

She is winding down

 the mountain,

with Debbie in the front seat,


crying out that

she's seeing bright

lights flash before her eyes.




Uhm, Deb...that's not the
 


Angel of Death, love...











that's the on-coming headlights

 from the on-coming traffic.





This is  quite the cracker-jack gene-pool

I'm sitting in.




Oh, boy...is this gonna be a

long night in Saugerties.




Lori & I are huddled

together in the

 back seat of this

emerald box on wheels,

with our arms

wrapped around

each other.



"I loved you, Lori.




You do know we're gonna die, right?"




" I loved you, too Sue....Yes, I know."




 Maria Andretti,


the bloodsucking slut


was going to plunge 


us off the side of the


icy mountain,

 
 
 
 
 
 


to our icy deaths below...



AND if we survived,


all four of us


would now be in need of a

defibrillator.




 


How does EMS determine

 which coronary patient goes first???



Does the original person who cried "heart-attack!" get jump-started first? 



I guess that would be only fair.

Hhhmmm...


So. The tires are
 

spinning & screaming.

Horns are blasting at us,

as Stupida can't even properly

 kill us in her own lane,

but is now crossing the double line.


Lori & I remained in our

huddle of death,

 with our eyes tightly shut,

as we didn't care

to witness the

decapitation of Debbie,







who was intermittently

screaming & praying.


 


I couldn't make out

if she was praying to God

because she knew

 she was going to die

or because she could actually




 see


 that she was. 




It was just a jumbled blur.



All of a sudden,

Dana The Dangerous,
 
spins the car

into the perfect parking spot

in the Emergency Room lot.



Dana is violently dragging Debbie

out of the passenger door,






 

as she's screaming for a stretcher &




a priest.....



 

because her beloved sister

is about to die.


Debbie suddenly looks up

at Dana with an expression of,


"Oh, shit...I am dying. I knew it!"


Somehow, Lori and I got

left in the still of the Saugerties night,











 in the back seat,

 with both the
 

driver's door and

passenger door
 

wide open, like something out of



The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

 





We sit silently, staring ahead for a good

 
minute or so.





Then we stare at each other.


We suddenly realize that
 

we are both trashed &


we crack up laughing...



This car is so f'ing small




 

that we had to pull each other

out of the tiny bucket seats

to be able to exit the car.


We're both in four-inch heels,

trying to maneuver

the icy pavement

beneath us.


This is probably the

turning point in my life,


when I started to


carry sneakers with me,


wherever I would go.


 




 


You just never

 knew when your evening


would go to shit.

By the time we are upright...

out of the Jag,


we are drunk, laughing &

 stumbling through


the doors of boondock medical hell.


 
 
 
 


We are trying to ascertain

where Debbie & Slutso went to.

Can't find them anywhere.


We're waiting in the hallway

& Lori decides to call her boyfriend


even though it's many hours into


the wee hours of the morning

and


he's a surgeon..






 
who had surgery the next morning.


Just to say "Hi."



Yikes.
 

We are giggling through

this whole episode

because we never got an

opportunity to consume any food

while we consumed too much vodka.


 
 
 
 


The nurse finally comes out

and tells us that our friend...

singular, as in only one of them,






 

would like us to come in.


Oh my God.

Did this chick really die?????


We're giggling like drunken sailors &


she passed away??



Wait! Maybe we'd caught a break

& Debbie was still breathing!

We walk into the E.R. bay

 where she was lying and say,

"Debbie, how are you feeling?"


"Susan, you are sooooo drunk!" Ho-Ho, the

shitty driver loudly exclaims

for the nurse to hear. 

"That's not Debbie, that's Dana...

I'm Debbie!!"


 
 
 
 


 
 
 
 
 



Lori shoots me a look that

tells me I'm not the slow one here.

Apparently, Debbie had herself NO

medical insurance,

whatsoever.


But guess who did????

Probably the only kind of


kind act

this girl ever committed...


even if it was illegal.


So, Debbie-Dana stupidly

keep engaging us

in conversation

that frankly,

we were just too drunk

 to keep up with.




 


Every time we answered

one of them,


it would come out as

Debdana....

Not bad...it worked...

I believe this is

where presenting

a picture I.D.

with your insurance card

was born.






By the time we were sprung from

Saugerties Hospital,

it was 4:30am.


Debdana was released

 with a very

serious diagnosis:
 


 





"Gas????

Are you f'ing kidding me???"


We were almost plummeted off

the side of Mount Hunter....

were yanked away

from the best

night of innocent debauchery 


we'd had in a dog's day



& she's got GAS????



Coulda, woulda, shoulda



stuck a pin in her


& went back to the dance floor.





f.m.l.




Now, here's the kicker:

Two weeks later,

I was creamed on the

Cross Bronx Expressway...

 
Yep. This one.



I was banged up pretty badly,

but came out alive.


My car, however,


did not.



My brother, who was a

Police Officer in a
 
 
 

somewhat local vicinity,

made arrangements to have my

half-dead car

towed to the guy

 that did all of the body work

 on the police cars.

When I could finally

move around,

Mike drove me

to see this man...

to talk about the damage on my car.


Mike introduces me to Billy,

who is just a teddy-bear of a guy...




 

a real sweetheart.


We chatted for a while &

then he leads me to a trailer,

which doubled as the office...

to fill out some paperwork.
 

I hobble up the stairs on my crutches &

I'm face-to-face with.....



 the Jaguar-owning skank.

 



Now talk about the merits

of having a defibrillator
at your place of work.
 
 
 
 
 
 
Anybody got change for the bus????
 
 
 



 
 
~SusiTheJag-U-R-Less~
 

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