Can't keep a good girl down

This blog post is one that has been percolating in my head for awhile...I've just needed the time to get around to writing it (also...I had to go dig up a couple of pictures to do the story-telling justice.)  I have a coterie of ladies with whom I socialize. (Translation: chicks I hang out and drink with)  These ladies are all fabulous in their own ways...and if you've read my blog, I have introduced you to a few of them.  Over the past 4th of July weekend, I had the opportunity to visit the residence of one of these fine females (for the sake of discretion, we'll call her "B."  Which just might stand for "Belinda"...you never know) for some excellent food, drink and company.   Now, "B" and I get together at least once a month for our group's "Liquid Lunch" on the first Saturday of every month.  Our husbands, unfortunately, don't have the opportunity to get together as often.  When we got together last weekend, during our revelry, "B" and I would often share with our menfolk ancedotes of some of our past (mis)adventures.  "Oh, B!  Do you remember that time...." and as we got to recounting some of our various ladies' nights out or girl trips, a certain pattern began to emerge.
Up until then, it has never really occurred to me...but "B" has an absolutely amazing talent.  Namely, "B" can recover from drunk faster than anyone I have ever known or heard tale of.  Seriously.
The number of times that we have counted her out for the evening...only to have her pop back up...bright eyed and bushy tailed half an hour later are astounding.
Exhibit A:

This is "B" on our annual Jackson, MS pilgramige a few years ago.  Fourteen of us had loaded up and traveled to Jackson for the weekend of the St. Patrick's Day parade (hence the green boa).  Back then, we used to go as a group of "queens" affiliated with the Sweet Potato Queens of the Jill Conner Browne genre.  We went for something like 7 straight years before the wheels ran off of that whole thing and JCB dis-associated herself from the ginormous St. Patrick's Day activities in Jackson and it suddenly became a whole lot less fun and we moved our annual "queen" retreat to the beach.  I still really miss those Jackson trips, though.  ANYWAY....we had arrived in Jackson after a 5-hour long car drive...and we arrived THRISTY!  "B" had recently lost a good bit of weight (doesn't she look fabulous all sleeveless and shit?) but had neglected to re-calibrate her drinking pace to her new svelte figure.  Before the sun had even set..."B" was passed out cold in one of the rooms. (we had 5 or 6 rooms that we all just traipsed in and out of).  Once we realized that she was no longer running amok with the rest of us, we went room-to-room until we found her resting peacefully, recouping from the 67 jello shots she had just consumed.  Naturally, we did what any kind and caring friends would do...we piled a bunch of props around her and took funny pictures and brayed like jackasses until we woke her up.
She had only been passed out for 20 or 30 minutes, max.  Once she raised her lil' puddin' head and grinned sheepishly at all of us...we decided to let her go back to recovering and left to go down to the hotel bar in our full blinged out regaila.  Imagine our shock when "B" arrived totally sober (well, mostly totally...she was upright anyway) and blinged out herownself before the first round of drinks had been delivered.

Exhibit B: (Hours later and she's still going strong):

Me n' B, Jackson, MS

She was just like the little energizer bunny.  And this kind of thing happens ALL THE TIME.  I wish I had more photographic proof of this phenomenon...but as much as I have scoured my albums, I've only discovered record of one other instance...this one from our recent trip to ATL.  You know, the one where I ate goat? We had been imbibing most of the evening and decided we'd better call a cab to get us all to dinner.  We went downstairs to wait on the cab...I looked over and caught "B" taking a little cat nap:

(I know the photo's a little blurry...I wish I had a better angle too...since she was wearing some seriously kick-ass boots.)  Of course, the taxi arrived and she just sprung up from her curb and clambered right on in...and proceeded to enjoy her night WITHOUT throwing up goat even once.  She's my hero!