How the Partners in Crime Hit Rock Bottom

Our first New York Memorial Day was fairly eventful as it was also the opening weekend in our Hamptons share house with the WBDB. Shudder. Last year I was attending a friend's (beautiful) wedding in Texas while The BFF was on a trip to the Dominican Republic with her BFJO.

This year, The BFF and I - the partners in crime - had a nice little staycation. The doorman who worked at the hotel next door to our old apartment used to call us that because apparently some people think we're attached at the hip. We're not Siamese twins though. Like, for instance, I don't go with her to the bathroom or anything. I mean, except at restaurants but that's not weird, it's standard girl protocol.

Joining our entourage was my fave college guy friend (who lived in the city a year ago for a year) and my friend's shih tzu Daisy, who I'd agree to puppysit.

The BFF and I had a great time playing hostess and mommy to our guests. Turns out - to the horrified dismay of my mother - that we've really enjoyed having a dog. What have our empty lives been missing? A sidekick!

Plus we think that this dog might be able to sniff out crime. Before it even takes place. And her sneezes - this dog sneezes all the time!? - solve the crimes!

Okay that first part was stolen from an It's Always Sunny re-run we just saw where Charlie and Mac write a movie script about a crime sniffing dog. And since we live on a fairly busy street with lots of sirens, we started joking every time we heard one that Daisy had sniffed out the cause for the emergency.

But the part that counts - her civic justice sneezes - are real (or at least really made up by us). And, you're welcome.

Anyway, when The BFF and I weren't babysitting our crime solving sidekick, we entertained ourselves with food. So out of character!? We went everywhere from Shake Shack, Butterlane cupcakes and Tortilla Flats to Luke's Lobster Bar and Muzerella Pizza. Oh, and that was just in a day. Seriously, what tha?

I know...

But that's not the worst part.

Spoiler Alert! - things are about to get weird.

Let me backtrack. Last weekend, The BFF and I finally broke down and did the unthinkable. We went to the KFC - Kennedy's Fried Chicken - the MacDowell's of fried chicken joints - underneath our apartment.

Think of the most ghetto fried food establishment, multiply it by 40% and that is Kennedy's. Up until now - almost 5 months in our apt - we'd never been. Then BAM somehow we went twice in one weekend. [The second time was due to slumber party peer pressure. The guilty party knows who she is.]

This is the part in the intervention recap where you're warned about the slippery slope of addiction. Things are getting scary and dark. Those wings were like crack. But actually, they might have crack in them since it is Kennedy's after all...

Shudder.

So a week later when Memorial Day weekend rolled around I told myself things would be different. I even drafted this contract.

Friday night started early and I was not on my A Game. Remembering only parts of the night, I woke up (thanks to the dog) at 5:30am.

To find evidence of our third trip to Kennedy's all over my new, silver monogrammed table tray.

What. Tha? Because I'm sure when my friend gave it to me as a wedding party gift she envisioned wing bones and ketchup all over it. [Actually she might have considering she lived with me in college and once there was an episode wherein I woke up and went to class before I realized I had bbq sauce on my feet...in my defense it was the morning after Bid Day...]

So early Saturday morning The BFF finally agreed to sign the contract.

Rock bottom never tasted so good.

[Yes that is the Kennedy's delivery menu on our fridge. Yes we will throw it away TODAY! And yes we have an eclectic collection of sea creature magnets because, yes, we are weird.]