Man, I am deeeeeee-raggin'! I stayed up until 1:00 AM watching Sex And The City DVDs and then could not fall asleep until after 2. Watching Sex And The City is like shooting heroin... you finish one episode, turn your arm over, tap your veins and take another hit. It's addictive. Ok, we'll watch ONE more. Six episodes later...
When I finally did fall asleep, I had such a wack, weird, long and complex dream. It was very detail-oriented and bizarre. It is totally hazy now, but in the shower this morning, I remember shaking my head at the screwy-ass shit locked in my inner conscious. I can't even go into detail. The only part that really stuck with me is me sitting outside at a meeting with my bosses (which we were holding on a curb for some inexplicable reason) and this group of drunk-asses walks by, at 9 AM on a Tuesday. One asks me to kiss him because it is his birthday, so I give him a peck on the cheek, much to the chagrin of my bosses. Later on, I end up with the group of people on the bus and I am sitting next to the birthday boy, who is the spitting image of Kieran Culkin, Macauley's brother. He gets this horrible look on his face and projectile vomits some sort of red goo all over the place. Some gets on me and I am pissed. Gross and weird. Thanks for sharin', Bethany!
My boss is wearing a very loud shirt today. Its like Don Ho meets Don Johnson.
Nice little weekend. Met up with some people at Kendall's, but we quickly got bored with that, so we headed off to Barelycorn YET AGAIN, but I am 2 for 2, since I had a great time. More dancing. More Long Islands.
Dan and Mike pose with Regan and me... aka. "The Girlfriends".
Mike and me when my make-up was still intact.
Some 'lil runt had the wherewithal to approach all 5'10 of me and ask me to dance. I took pity on the tiny man and obliged. His eyes bugged out of his head when he realized that at a close proximity, his head was grazing my ample chest. It tickled. So I slowly backed away and said I needed a refill. He took it upon himself to buy me another drink, so I patted him on his tiny head, gave him a sweet little peck and lost him in the crowd. What a bitch. Meaning me.
The exciting part of the night is that I had my VERY FIRST Wiener Circle experience! For those of you that don't know, the Wiener Circle is this little hotdog/hamburger stand that is open until ungodly hours of the AM. Drunk people go there at 3 AM or so. The people that work there get to be as rude as they want and basically scream at you while you are ordering. For example, Mike ordered his food and said thank you to which the girl screamed back "Lick my fucking butt crack!" I don't really remember even being in there, so I have no idea what obscenities were directed at me. I'll have to be more coherent next time.
My favorite Wiener Circle story is when my red-headed friend Craig went in there and some big-ass worker chick yelled out "Hey, it's Opie!" to which Craig quickly retorted "Hey Dee! Where's Rog and Re-Run?" The other workers were like "Oooooh girl! He got you!" Craig rules!
Dan and Mike kickin' it ghetto style outside the Wiener Circle.
We were ever-so-lazy the next day. Basically we sat around and watched more Sex And The City (and I won't stop until I have seen them all at least 3 times!) and then drug our asses downtown to go eat some pizza. The FINAL Dorm party was on Saturday night *sniff* and it was a slow starter. Mike came with me and stayed for a bit. My friend Vinnie showed up and it eventually got kind of crowded. I wasn't that sad because 70% of the people that lived there weren't present at the party. The females once again kicked some serious male ass in Flip Cup. We kept score by writing in marker on the walls. The whole kitchen is covered in dirty limericks, drawings of boobs and penises (courtesy of me) and inside jokes.
Check the fallice and mammaries on the wall. Now that is talent. Good luck getting that deposit back!
The stolen LaBamba burrito man got chucked off the 3rd floor porch and then jumped and down on top of until some kids came by and stole him. So he will live on somewhere else. I hope he is happy in his new home.
One last precious picture with our smelly friend. I have no idea where that mask came from or how it got on my face. I look hot. A mask might be a good investment. Hmmm...
Chewbacca made his much-anticipated appearance towards the end of the night. The ladies could not get enough of him!
Priscilla in her skank-ass "Gimme-A-$10-Tip" outfit mounts the Wookie in the dirty limmerick-filled hallway. That's HOT.
All-in-all, a great time. We headed off to the Hang Uppe with me face down, legs in the air on top of 5 laps. I realized I did not have my ID nor my debit card, they were still in the back pocket of my jean skirt laying on my floor... I thought I was screwed until Captain Connections got me in sans ID. I don't know how I ended up drunk either. I was pretty sober on the way there. That's the thing about Hang Uppe. No one gets out unscathed! I got home somehow and gave my boy a Vinnie a tour of the place. Here is where it gets hazy: Mike came home. We sat on the porch and smoked (BAD BETHANY!) Well I did anyway. Somehow, the next morning I wake up with just my underwear on to Mike poking his head in my door and asking "How are ya feelin'?" Head pounding. Mouth dry. Hair scary. Eyes stinging. Dear Lord. What did I do? I take a tour of the place and to my horror, my top is on the porch and my skirt and bra are laying next to the trash can in the kitchen. What the hell???? I am so shy when it comes to my body! Mike says I just blatantly started stripping on the porch, which is SO NOT ME. Good thing he is my best friend and not into boobs. Or it could have been ugly. It has been awhile since I have been that loaded. My new thing is either not drinking or only having a few to maintain a buzz and my memory. But I knew this night was going to be crazy... that was the plan all along. One last blow-out to commemorate my introduction to Chicago. I was not arrested. I was not injured. I didn't spend much money. Things could have totally been worse. Sure I am a bit embarrassed, but isn't that what your twenties is? A series embarrassments and learning experiences? Or is that your teens? Probably your teens, but I was always a slow bloomer, damn it!
Yo yo yo, this made me laugh. People with the time on the hands. Perhaps I should come up with something since I am one of those people... but until then, I give you The Mutha Fo' Fathers!