Happy Hour(s)

So I never really mean for happy hour to turn into happy "event" but more times than not it always seems to end up that way. Someone really needs to explain to me that 9 hours of drinking really isn't the most genius idea ever...

Dave, Amanda and I met at Wild Wing at 5:00. I was drunk by beer 3 which occurred somewhere around the 6:30 hour. I'm pretty sure that all I did was talk with a lisp and try to embarrass Amanda and sometimes I combined the two for maximum fun. Eventually Miss Lara met up with us and so did Adrian and Jules. Excellent. ::tapping fingers::

So we proceeded to get drunk. Which really was my only goal I set for myself yesterday. I'm a high-striver... speaking of hyphenated things to be, Amanda is a pot-stirrer... always brewin' up some trouble, which always means there will be a good gossip-filled story to come after the stirring. Oh how I love other people's drama.

Some how we ended up at this crap bar called Sapphires. It's neon signed gave me high hopes as it instinctively reminded me of a strip club. No. Wrong. Bust. The only thing good about that place was some shot called Fire on your Tire. Or maybe it was Flat Tire, or maybe it had nothing to do with nonworking car parts. It was green and delicious. Who the fuck cares what it's name was. We had 2. I then pouted until Dave drove us home to get glammed up and go downtown to Mad River. PS: Lara is a make-up artist. Yay for friends with talents. We all bust in up in Mad River sporting an article of clothing from my closet and some form of tacky Nicole jewelry, well Dave refrained from the tacky jewelry... we just shook our asses for 2 hours until they kicked us out. I particularly enjoyed the part where I screamed every single word of Ice Ice Baby. I really don't know why I have friends. I'm really a dork. Or even a dorkasaur. Rawr. I also enjoyed weighing the pros and cons of dancing on one of the 4 foot tables. I really did drown out the conversation around me and make a list in my head about the goods and bads of staying on the floor vs. climbing onto an unsturdy table with about 10 drinks in my system. ::insert R. Kelly's song "my mind's tellin me noooo, but my body...my body's telling me yessssss...":: I refrained from table dancing. You know, it's probably really good that I didn't have friends who encouraged stripping. Something tells me I could have easily gone down quite the wrong path in life since every time I get some alcohol in me I want to immediately become the center of attention by standing on platforms or swinging around poles or using articles of clothing like g-string strings and sunglasses and ties as props. So thanks friends for encouraging a lifestyles that promotes clothing. Appreciate it.

Okay so like I said, we stayed until we got kicked out. Well, so did the guy who literally got kicked out. Like got kicked out so hard he flew out of his shoes and landed face first on the rain-soaked sidewalk unconscious. That was way scary to walk out of a bar all giggly and silly and see someone's shoes on the steps and then see that someone knocked out cold 3 feet in front of his shoes. Dave and Lara both have medical experience so they made sure the dude was breathing and not dead. Amanda and I stood there holding each other as it rained. Again, an appropriate time for th R. Kelly song... Oh! Speaking of R Kelly songs, Dave and I continued to reference the South Park episode where he and Tom Cruise continue to get in the closet. "Now Tom Cruise is in the closet. Now I'm in the closet too."

WTF with the R. Kelly? Seriously.
Okay so, knocked-out guy... I mean really, who pisses off someone so bad that they punch you out of your own shoes? Drama...

So Dave and I got home and sat in the tub because we still swear that we always smell like smoke even though downtown in smoke-free. Whatever. I woke up with my pretty eye make-up smeared across my face over to my ear. So much for the sexy, smoky eyes. I'm now still drunk, haven't even made it to the hangover phase yet. Oh God and we don't have any milk in the house! Dilemma!!. My chest is all shaky. And I'm very curious to learn how Amanda is going to get through a session with her personal trainer in 30 minutes. Good luck. Now someone go make me some drunk breakfast! Mmm, hangover days.

Blog (Again)

As of lately DeAnne and I have become email buddies, it's basically the 2000s version of pen pals and we write to each other like 5 times a day. For those of you who are unaware, DeAnne and I are part of the "ex-girlfriends" club along with Catherine. All 3 of us managed to end up with this 7 foot tall doof at some point in our lives, he told all of us that the other ones were crazy, and all 3 of us investigated and found out that he was actually the crazy one.
So 4 years later, us 3 girls are all good friends and he's out of our lives. Well, in discussing how we know each other, DeAnne brought up my old blog - in which I deemed her a stalker. I mean, she was, but so was I and so was Catherine, so my old theory that "stalkers don't make friends" has been proved false and in all actuality, stalkers do make friends.
So... having a discussion about my old blog really made me miss it. I actually made a bound copy for Joe last year. It was 2.5 years of debauchery printed on approximately 200 pieces of paper. Ridiculous. Needless to say, I miss that crap. Granted, I may not have quite the stories that I used to have, but I still have equally ridiculous friends and we seem to wind up in crazy situations so I might as well still keep track of this crap. So I'm vowing to myself and to you maniacs that actually keep up with this shit that I promise to do a better job of putting my life on "paper."

Ready.Set.Blog (again).