9-01-2001 | 3:45 p.m.

I woke up around an hour ago. Good thing no one was here to notice. Otherwise suspicions and paranoia would run amok. I do have a story that goes on that topic. I didn have pictures to share, but geocities won't let me link -so I think I need to finally get a diaryland gold membership.

So...a few weeks ago, my entire family was invited to drunken neighbor Jeff and his martyr wife's anniversary party. I really didn't want to go. So I didn't..not right away anyway. Then my Mom starts calling, "Come next door. You're being very rude." I went. I sat next to my brother and planned an escape. I look over to our back porch and see two guys walking into the house. I ask Step-Dad, "Who are those people and why are they going into your house." {Note: I'm considered a tenant. Isn't that special?} Step-Dad almost trips over his own feet because he's so baked. "Oh...that's Jeff's nephew and a friend. I told them they could hang out over there and help themselves to the bar.." Okay then...

I want to leave, but are those guys in the house still? Doesn't seem like it. I enter through my own 'entrance' and flop down on my bed because babysitting a bunch of drunks is tiring.

Then I hear Limp Bizkit blaring upstairs. I can hear every word from 3 floors down. I figure my 12-year-old brother is showing off for his friends. And let me say, he listens to that one Limp Bizkit CD over and over and I now curse Fred Durst. {"Dude", you suck. I like your guitarist Wes, but you are a Carson Daly kiss-assing, hiding your receding hairline with a baseball cap, annoying seizure inducing voiced sell out.}

Anyway...I run upstairs to make him turn that crap off and surprise(!) - it's actually drunken neighbor Jeff's nephew and his friend. I introduce myself, because well I kind of live here. They are loving the keg refrig. I mix a vodka and coke, because my nerves are frazzled.

Todd (nephew of Jeff) asks, "Who was that guy you were sitting with over there? You're boyfriend?"

"Who?" I ask.

"The tall skinny guy..." Todd asks while grinning at me.

"Ohhhhh that's my brother..." Eeek! That would be my older brother. Hello, I sat next to my brother while we ate the nasty food cooked by someone scary. This is not an Angelina Jolie moment! Ewwww.

"Oh I see...." Todd replies. "Pull up a bar stool. Unless we're not cool enough for you."

I sit, and am introduced to the friend, Matt who asks, "Wait...what are you drinking...you're like 17...."

I laugh. I'm over 21, as we all know. "So...where are your ID's then?"

They both pull their driver licenses out. Both are 21, recently 21.

We laugh. We drink. We talk. Nothing of the bad is happening.

And that's when it happens. My brother returns, smokes some weed with my Step-Dad and pulls me aside. "Mom is worried. She thinks you're drinking. But I told her you weren't. And you aren't right?"

When you don't want people to know you're drinking, do the old vodka and coke deal. They'll think it's plain old coke, unless they take a sip. "No. Of course I'm not..."

My brother smiles. "I didn't think so." And he leaves.

Matt leaves to smoke. Todd and I take a walk. We return to the sound of my Mom freaking out. We're out of sight but you can hear her a mile away. "Where is my daughter? She's definitely drinking! Where is Todd? I don't want her near him..."

Blah, blah blahbedy blah. The story ends with my Mom scaring Todd and Matt with the evil eye nodding deal. Me, I'm ready to take off. She never could confirm that I was actually drinking.

She woke up with a nasty hangover, and tried to make nice - knowing she embarrasses herself and me. I refused to talk to her for a week. And now...well of course we're one big happy dysfunctional family. Uh-huh.

Long entry huh? Well, you know how I get with the stories. In 50 years I'll be sitting on the porch of the old folks home telling this same story. And my best buddy Keith will be sitting next to me claiming to be the "CLUE" champ. Can't wait...