The End of a Long Two Weeks

The moment I’ve been waiting for is finally here (tomorrow). I will be leaving bright and early at 8 a.m. for Ghetty’s Cove to camp ALL DAMN WEEKEND with Kelly, Sarah, Dre-baby and some of Dre’s firefighter buddies. I believe that we have a group of 12 or so people going, and we’re hoping to snag a couple prime camping sites tomorrow morning before the throngs of people show up for Dave Matthews. We will not be attending the concert (otherwise I might accidentally end up being cuffed and taken to jail for “having relations” with a 16-year-old), but we do plan to party with the best of them. Our group is bringing two wakeboard boats and one gigantic beautiful beast called Floatzilla. We will be attending the spring-break type festivities at the Sand Dunes. I hear things can get pretty crazy there—girls walking around nude, a 50-foot Slip N Slide that starts at the top of the dunes, boats tied together for miles, and people actually f*&$ing in public for everyone’s eyes to see. Sounds a little crazy, and I’m not sure I’m so thrilled to witness the latter, but I’m stoked none-the-less cause it sounds like one crazy effing party. And that’s my middle name ladies and gentlemen.

Jeanna Crazy-Effing-Party Barrett.

If things could get even better than that, tomorrow marks the end of my two-week detox. I have not drank one eensy little drop since the 16th of August and have not eaten carbs or sugar since the 20th. Usually, my camping excursions include cheesy brats, chips and bean dip, and so many marshmallows that you’d probably puke just watching me eat them. However, I am going to stay true to my new South Beach way of life and spent time last night preparing food for me to eat this weekend— marinated chicken in a mojito sauce, cut up a red, yellow and orange peppers and chicken for kabobs, and homemade Mexican soup, which I plan on heating up on the campfire with a tin can. Ghetto, I know, but it works. And I refuse to be lured by those cheesy brats, so back off Kelly! Now, that’s all I have to say about food cause I certainly have more interesting things to write about in my blog.

I will be partaking in the Labor Day festivities, however, with a fervor that my mother would be proud of. Hot damn, I can feel the wine and vodka pouring down my throat now. I don’t deny that the thought of drinking like I usually do (refer to my previous post regarding by binger at Pearl Jam) is a little scary. I don’t think I’ve abstained this long from alcohol since I started drinking it. And, no joke, I think that was in 1996. YIKES. That makes me feel old, or either that, like a REBEL! Vroom, vroom! Well, I did receive the “Biggest Rebel” award in high school, so that would just be indicative of my true nature. BUT, I apologize ahead of time if I pee on you or in the bed, tell a really important secret, sleep with your boyfriend, joy ride with your car or dance naked on top the picnic table.

I can’t help it. What can I say, I’m a F-R-E-E B-I-R-D!
And this girl you cannot change.
Lord knows, I can’t change.