Man, I am a SLACKA!
Sorry lovies, I have been one busy beaver. I have pushed San Diego to the back of my mind right now and have forged ahead with my life here. Things are eh. Just eh. Weather... great. Tan... even better. Money... still sucking. Love life... in toilet. So keep your fingers crossed that I meet a hot tamale with a with a sweet little trust fund or at least some ambition.
So I was chatting with my baby boy Dan just now about what to write. I feel tapped. He suggested I write about the friendships I have built with Mike and him. And I replied "gag" but then thought about it and decided to give that a go since those 2 have been dominating my social time lately.
But I thought about it again and decided I am sick of writing about them. Here: I love them. They are great. And I need a boyfriend. There.
I got some suuuuuuun this weekend. I am a fucking Krispy Kreme. I have been slathering up lotion on myself like Rosie O'Donnell buttering her Thanksgiving turkey. I am going to look like a freakin' saddlebag in 10 years if I keep this up... but damn it, I love to be tan. I feel cocoalicious.
Friday night was 'aight. My sweet baby Jo came over with a fat beef burrito for me-oh-my-oh-me. It was scrumptious. We watched Anger Management while Dan, Mike and I downed vodka and ice teas (my concoction derived from stuff I ganked from my parent's house. Thanks for the hangover, Mom!) Then my South Side compadres made their entrance and Jo made her exit. We ended up at The Apartment where I sat and watched tube-top-wearin' skanks and greasy haired chachies do mating dances. Yawn. Take me home. And remind me to never go to The Apartment again. Okthanskbye.
I spent all of Saturday sitting in the beer garden and Sports Corner downing Jager shots and Woodchuck Cider and baking myself to a golden brown. Well, it is brown now. It was a horrifying shade of red 2 hours after I got home. Going into Saturday night, I thought it was going to suck. We went to Barelycorn, one of my least favorite bars. Mike and Dan met us there. I opened a tab... and that spells T-R-O-U-B-L-E. I got a nice buzz, not drunk, since I remember everything. I danced around like a heretic and didn't care what anyone thought, but I still kept enough composure to stay on my feet. We ended up at Roscoe's, which is always a great time. I just dig going to gay bars... it alleviates the pressure and you can just have fun without worrying about dorks hitting on you. My FWB met me there and I don't think he knew what type of bar he was meeting me at until he stepped to the front door and was hit with the glare of a neon rainbow. I got to give him credit for wanting it badly enough to step inside and hang out. Most straight men don't have the cojones.
Sunday was beach day and I headed out with Josh, the phantom roommate. He is a great guy, I just feel like I don't know him at all. A year of living together will take care of that, I am sure. I met up with some of my girls and got even more sun. It was a great, laid-back day.
That night, I 3rd wheeled ONCE AGAIN and went to Cheesecake Factory with Dan and Mike. They never make me feel like I am 3rd wheelin'. That is all in my own head. I am so grateful I met them. They remind me everyday that I need to get a life. And that is a precious gift.
I saw Spiderman 2 last night. I am not big on the super hero movies and can't really stand action flicks, but damn it if I didn't just love this movie. Mike talked me into going and then paid, so I couldn't argue with that. Sweet little Tobey McGuire looked on the brink of tears everytime he was sans Spidey mask. The life of a superhero is hard! Don't even pretend it is not. Even though I abhor Kirsten Dunst and think she looks like a fucking Cabbage Patch Kid, she won me over in this role. Good times. Best date I have had in... I can't remember how long. Too bad I got dropped off and Dan received my rightful nookie. Bitch.
This morning I was getting ready and watching Fox News In The Morning. All of a sudden, Dennis Rodman flashes on the screen sporting a glittery black jacket and more nose rings then the lesbians who hang out at The Closet. He was promoting an Injury Lawyer! An ambulance chaser! A schiester! Worm... WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING? ARE THINGS REALLY THIS BAD? HAVE YOU REALLY SUNK THIS LOW? YOU WERE THE ALL-TIME REBOUND LEADER IN THE NBA! WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?
And now... pictures from weeks ago that I just developed. I still miss you, digital camera. And when mommy gets enough money, she'll fix you, she promises.
Kon, Sandy and Mike prepare to board the Booze Cruise
This would have been a framer if fucking stupid Kon, who I hate, would not have fucked it up like he fucks up everything else.
How cute is that? I don't think I have ever seen Sandy in a normal, eyes-facing-forward-and-smiling pose.
Sandy and some random hijacked a golf cart upon our return to the pier. Good times.
Yay! I finally got my pictures from the Pride Parade. Here is a dirty gentleman bathing himself atop a float.
This guy with the flag was grossing us out because he looked pregnant. Dan took a liking to him and just HAD to sneak up behind him for a photo op.
This two well-dressed fellows grabbed my ass really hard at the same time. It was hot. Can you see what my shirt says? Please comment below if you can read it.
Some dominatrix bitch peddling strap-on horns kept bugging Dan to buy a set for $10. Rip off! Plus she used a nasty comb to brush the hair over the strap. When Dan found out it had touched his precious head, he flipped out. Dig Mike's face. Oooh Daddy!
Priscilla, me, Theresa and Nicole pose in an alley with this guy, who was wearing matching sunflower shoes, which the dipshit taking the picture failed to capture.
Giddyup, cowboy! Can you tell now what my shirt says? I love it! It yeilded some come-ons by fat lesbians.
Me and my boys. Mike hates this picture. But I love it. And it is my site. So suck it, Mike.
This is from this past Saturday night at Barelycorn. Mike's dancing face always cracks me up.
Click here if you want to know the truth.