Hola Papis! Mamasita es en la casa!
The hiatus was nice, but if I don't write today, I feel like this whole weekend will get lost in the stacks of my mind. So here goes.
What a gorgeeeeous day. It is difficult to sit here in my office like a trapped rhino when I know there are people 12 floors below me struttin' around, sun on their face, commerce at their back. But sit I must until 5pm, when the bell finally rings.
I am up to an 83% limit on picture uploading. I am saddened. I think my best entries are ones with photographic accompaniment. Is there a way to buy more space (already a Super Gold member), or do I need to start deleting? I guess I could look this up myself, but I like comments. Leave comments. They make me tingly.
This past weekend started on Thursday. Aren't those great? Dio and I went to Flat Top Grill, which is far inferior to the now locally defunct Mongolian BBQ. Now they are only located in Vernon Hills and Naperville. What a rip.
We laughed at our "Jack-Black-On-Crack" waiter and ordered one more fruity liquor concoction then was necessary.
We then headed over to Durkin (what a shocker) and did an all-you-can-possibly-consume-for-$25 deal. For me, that was 5 weak vodka cranberries and a shot of Jager. For Dio, it was a few beers. He didn't have to work the next day, so he actually hung out relatively late before he scurried home.
Woke up 45 minutes late, so I came into work on Friday looking like a bag of ass, which I believe I relayed in my last post. Dio and I went to the Sox game (fucking traitor bitch) Friday night. We sat right behind the bull pen and right behind the most annoying, trashy fuckface I have ever had the displeasure of coming into contact with.
He was about 5'7. Ruddy, pug nosed, nasty nasty nasty Irish looking face with a square nose and freckles. He had longish GRRRRRREASY bright red curly hair squashed down by a dirty Sox cap. He has flame red chops and the most disgusting neck hair I have ever seen. I want to whip out my Intuition and go to town on that neck and then toss the razor in the trash and dip my hand in bleach. He was pretty mute in the beginning, but with each sip of Jack Daniels, the scent of which was hitting me like a dull slap, he became more obnoxious and loud. I wanted to fucking throttle him. My lips were in a permanent sneer for most of the game. He shouting out shit that didn't even make sense. I was all set on giving Sox fans a chance, but this trash heap ruined it for me. The final straw was him talking shit about the "Scrubbies" and then stating, "Hey, leave the cock sucking up North where it belongs!" Now what the hell would this scab know about cock sucking? Jealous much?
Anyhow, the field is pretty and all, but it can't hold a candle to the history and majesty that is Wrigley Field.
Ok, it's big.
Ok, it's pretty. But I'll take yuppie scum over just plain scum any day.
We came back, got some food and watched This Is Spinal Tap, which I have never seen, but fell asleep halfway through. Guess all that baseball got me plum tuckered out!
Dio and I went to breakfast at Melrose the next morning and then came back to straighten up for male roommate's birthday party. It was a very pretty day, so I made spring's arrival official by donning for the first time of MANY MANY times my short, white Old Navy skirt. I lived in that puppy last year, as evidenced by all the faint stains. Battle scars, if you will. Look closely enough at that skirt and it'll tell you a tale that would make your head spin.
The calm before the storm
A few of my guy friends were some of the first to show up to kick off the fiesta. They quickly sucked on the keg and reported to the front yard for a few games of Bean Bag Toss. Since my front yard is right on the very busy Belmont Avenue, we had quite a few spectators. The dog owners of my neighborhood were very upset that their dogs couldn't take a dump on out front lawn that day. It is like walking in a land mine field. I steered clear.
Sweet action shot.
Male roommate's girlfriend whipped up a batch of Porch Crawlers AKA something about being naked I can't recall right this second. They consist of pink lemonade concentrate, cheap vodka and a 12 pack of beer... and MA-HAN are they TASTY! They went down so easily that people were speaking in tongues by the end of the night.
For you Chicagoans that watch Fox News in The Morning, Tamron Hall is my neighbor. She was walking by, minding her own business when I pointed her out the the horny males on my porch. They called her over to come drink with us, and to my surprise, she approached the porch and accepted a Budweiser Select from my guy friend. She said "Hate to drink and run," and turned around, sipping the beer all the way back to her place 2 building east of mine. I felt like too much of a geek to take a picture while she was standing there, but I got one of her backside sauntering down my driveway.
Nothing like a psuedo celebrity siting!
Earlier that day, our flip cup table that had been MIA for 7 months was recovered and brought back into our possession. It sat under some stairs outside throughout the winter, but did we bother to even clean it off before setting it up for a Flip Cup! Hell no! I shudder thinking about it.
The game right before I came down there and kicked everyone's ass.
Check out that food spread! A guy that works with male roommate's girlfriend apparently does not get invited to many parties, so he went ALL out and brought a grill and made ribs, jumbalaya and egg salad. Everyone was super impressed and that guy made instant friends with about 30 people. He is cordially invited to every party I ever throw for the rest of my life.
My tunes were bumping on my iPod. People were getting loosy-goosy. It was getting chilly outside, so the party moved indoors. LL started getting a little rambuncious, which is always great for entertainment. A bunch of us had a dance-off straight out of West Side Story. Then LL brought the workout ball out of my room and bounced it down the hall. She kicked it at Daddy, who kicked it back at her, which bounced off the wall and hit the huge, heavy $300 mirror above the fireplace, which also toppled over this huge votive candle holder I got from my mom for Christmas.
It was like slow motion. The world stopped spinning. Until accusations started flying. Glass was EVERYWHERE. Daddy and LL finally decided to take 3.5 years of bad luck a piece since breaking the mirror was a team effort. Damn! I wish I got that all on camera.
I suddenly remembered I HAD a camera, so I started snapping away. (Well, I am too narcissistic NOT to be the the picture, so I guess other people started snapping away!)
Dio and an ex-roomie, who have gotten pretty chummy, much to my delight. He is a huge CUBS and ILLINI fan, so I totally treasure this picture.
Holy shit, I lost my neck!
LL has her hand up my skirt. She was fascinated with my lack of ass this night for some reason. Oops, out of order! Notice the mirror and candles are still intact at this point.
Daddy dragging LL down the hallway by his ankles. I caught it right after she let go.
My cleavage looks like a butt. You aren't missing much.
I need to take H to the tanning salon. For shizzle.
The party started to break up after LL almost fell off the porch to what most certainly would have been her death. Dio and ex-roomie grabbed her right before she fell. Dio put him over her shoulder and carted her off to bed. It seems that all of our parties end in LL being bodily put in her room. Awesome.
We went to SideTracks on Halsted for about 45 minutes, until my little sister became Pukey McGee on the floor of the ladies bathroom. Dio, her and I ended up leaving the fourth in our party, a nervous hetero male that got more and more comfortable with his surroundings with each drink. Hmmmm.
Dio came back and cleaned up the front yard while I was passed out. I love that man of mine. He's a keeper.
The next day, we awoke to the moans of the weary and hungover. 5 of us went to Avenue Tavern, a cool place with the SHITTIEST SERVICE EVER. We saw our waitress one time in 45 minutes. We had to wait on EVERYTHING for at least 10 minutes after asking for it. Since Daddy is so take charge when it comes to these matters, we ended up getting 50% off our bill. Sweet A.
Cleaning the apartment was a freakin' headache and a half. Each main room had to be mopped three times to extricate the stickiness from the floors. Jello shots that never fully formed (too much alcohol perhaps?) were smeared all over the kitchen. And don't even get me started on the rampant cigarette butts. Ick. But it was all worth it. I believe I am living in the ultimate party apartment and I plan on demonstrating this theory often this summer.
Sunday ended with a whimper.
The kegs were returned. The place was clean. We even showered. Everyone left save Dio and me. So we did what we do on Sundays and watched lots of TV and ate fast food. And the world made sense again.
Except for in my room. That place is trashed and the thought of really cleaning it makes me head throb slightly.