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"WHAT!?  You think this is some kind of challenge?" Ash sniffs. " That I can't do it?"  "I'm just betting," I say innocently.  "If I do this, and when I win, I want something big.  You have to accompany me on a tourist tour of Hollywood Boulevard,"  Ash says.  Ack!  Ooooh, I hate tourists.  I do, I really really do.  And that's all that's on Hollywood Blvd, really.  Gross.  I'd rather go to the dentist than down Hollywood Blvd.  "No problem," I say, and grimly smile.  Ashley IS just as much a lush as I am and I'm pretty sure she won't win this bet, especially if I keep wagging beer bottles in her face and then I get her back for calling me That Type Of Chick.

Ash has fun at the beginning playing Sobriety Police, "Excuse me, sir.  You're not drunk enough," and forcing them to drink more.  Not under any kind of restrictions, I get happily blasted, which make her sober efforts to be zany that much more hysterical.

But I haven't seen Matt in forever, and we end up talking on his seashell bed for awhile. 

 

It's the best bed in the world, he got it from a neighbor who was gonna throw it out.  You can't throw a bed like this out, it's sacrilege!  Just look at it:

I love this seashell bed.  We used to crash in it all the time, something like five of us would dogpile on and pass out.  I don't think that'd be the best thing to do tonight.  I have a boyfriend now.  No dogpiles for me.  So it's Matt and me on the seashell bed watching Ashley in the backyard attempting to grill marshmallows on the barbecue. 

"Are you happy?"  Matt asks, "You must be, since we haven't seen you in awhile."