Maureen was searching her fridge for another wine cooler, and not having a great deal of luck at it, when she heard her friend turn up her computer's volume behind her.
“It's important, when you're cooking, to use food.”
“What – Dana, what the hell are you watching?” Maureen turned around and squinted at the laptop screen, her search temporarily forgotten. “Shit, that is a crappy video.”
The other woman looked over her shoulder towards Maureen and let loose a short bark of laughter. Maureen pouted; laughter was totally uncalled for.
“Oh, calm down,” Dana said, still smirking. “It's just, Maureen, you aren't wearing your glasses.”
“Oh.” Maureen didn't remember taking her glasses off, but now that she was paying attention the world did seem a little . . . fuzzy. “Fuck, where are they?” she said, patting her head. Nope, not there. She looked at Dana imploringly.
Dana paused the video playing on her laptop and pushed away from the table. She only stumbled slightly when she got up, which Maureen didn't really think was fair. They had been matching each other drink for drink, but Dana didn't even look drunk.
Before Maureen could get really engrossed in a self-debate over whether Dana's unfair metabolism advantage should be envied or pitied (Maureen was inclined towards envy, as long as it didn't interfere in getting a good buzz going), Dana touched her shoulder lightly to get her attention.
“Where did you have them last?” Dana asked her.
Even drunk, Maureen thought that question was ridiculous. “On my fucking face, where do you think?” she said.
“Hey, I'm trying to help you,” Dana answered, rolling her eyes.
Maureen sighed. “Sorry, sorry . . . You have to admit that was a stupid thing to say, though.”
Dana shrugged but didn't bother giving an answer. Maureen watched (blurrily) as the other woman began rummaging through the living room in search of Maureen's glasses, checking behind throw pillows and under furniture. Maureen was pretty sure that she wouldn't be careless enough to let her glasses end up somewhere where they might be damaged (even if she had been careless enough to lose track of them in the first place), so she sat down in the chair Dana had vacated and tried to think back to when she had taken them off.
She wasn't finding it easy and was beginning to think that maybe she was too drunk to be thinking about this logically and why did she need her glasses so pressingly, anyway, when a sharp “Aha!” heralded Dana's success.
Dana brought the glasses over and handed them to Maureen. “Your glasses, milady,” she said, stifling a laugh when Maureen blinked owlishly after putting them back on.
“Wow,” Maureen said. “Much better.” She took a moment to bask in the sharp clarity of her vision before focussing back on Dana. “So, what were we doing?”
Dana sat down in the chair next to Maureen. “I was on YouTube and you were soaking up alcohol like a sponge,” she explained.
Ah, yes. Maureen glanced over at the laptop that was still sitting there on the table in front of them, and now that she had her glasses on she could see that the video was perfectly clear.
“'Butter Yo Shit'?” she read. “What the hell?”
Dana grinned and reached over so she could expand the video to fill the whole screen, then she restarted it from the beginning. “It's a cooking show,” she explained. “Well, sort of. You'll see.”
Maureen was skeptical, but after a few minutes of watching the woman on the screen struggle to make a grilled cheese sandwich she quickly saw the appeal.
“This is genius,” she exclaimed, after the video had finished.
Dana beamed at her. “I know, right? There are a bunch more episodes, let me just pull up the second one . . .”
“No, wait,” Maureen said. “I have a better idea.” She got up and went over to her pantry. It took a few minutes for her to find what she was looking for, but finally she emerged and presented it to Dana.
“Oh, no,” Dana said.
“Yes!” insisted Maureen.
“. . . Fine,” agreed Dana eventually, unable to resist Maureen's puppy eyes. “But you're going to need more booze if you want to do it right.”
Maureen cheered and placed cake mix on the counter. “This is going to be so much fun!”
“Uh huh,” Dana said. “If we burn your apartment down, you'll only have yourself to blame.”
“You worry too much, Dana.” Maureen began pulling mixing bowls and egg beaters out of various cupboards and drawers. “Everything will be fine!”
Dana emerged from the refrigerator with a bottle of cheap red wine. “Oh God,” she said, taking in the array of baking accessories Maureen had already set up. “This is going to be a disaster, isn't it?”
The next morning was bright and beautiful and kind of made Maureen want to curl up under her covers and not come out until nightfall. The events of the previous night were a confused jumble in her head, but she could remember one thing: lots and lots of cheap alcohol. Her hangover wasn't terrible – she remembered inviting Dana over and Dana always reminded her to hydrate while indulging – but it still existed and Maureen would really prefer to stay in bed. She knew better than to let a hangover dictate her day, though, so she forced herself out of bed (her soft, comfortable bed) and shuffled down the hallway to her bathroom.
After knocking back a few ibuprofen and brushing her teeth to get the stale taste of wine out of her mouth, Maureen stripped off her clothes and pulled back the shower curtain. Then she put her clothes back on, left the bathroom, and began digging around in the living room to find her cellphone.
The phone was under the coffee table. Once Maureen found it, she punched in Dana's number and sent two texts.
Dana. Dana, you're supposed to make sure I don't do anything stupid when I drink.
that's why you're my Drinking Buddy.
A few minutes later, Maureen's phone chimed with Dana's answer.
is evrything ok? it read.
Maureen snorted and typed out another message.
there's chocolate cake in my bathtub. I don't even want to know how the hell chocolate cake wound up in my tub.
oh, was Dana's response. chk ur youtube page ;)
Maureen frowned. She did not like the sound of that, not at all. She went back into her bedroom, where her laptop was sitting on her desk like it always was. She booted it up and opened the web browser, logging into YouTube as quickly as possible. There, on her Uploads page, was a new video dated from the night before.
“Oh, shit,” Maureen muttered. The video was titled 'drunk KItchen FTW' and already had two hundred and eleven views. She clicked it and watched in slowly growing horror as the previous night's adventure unfolded before her. She pulled out her cellphone again and typed out another message to Dana.
you are FIRED as my Drinking Buddy, wtf???
Dana's answer came almost immediately. it was ur idea. i made sure nthin burned. U shld thnk me.
Maureen grudgingly accepted that that made sense.
fine, thank you, she typed. but who put it on youtube?
A moment later Dana's answer arrived. yeah, that was me. srry? :P
FIRED, she sent to Dana. so, so fired.