The Roundhouse Kick

Let me start by saying there is no way I could make this shit up.  This really is my life, people.  

So, Friday was the basic beginning of another debauchery-ridden weekend.  You know, margaritas at lunch. Vodka at happy hour.  More vodka later.  And then strip club.  And this was a special, special night at the strip club because I got to take Angel's strip club V-card.   Does anyone else see a pattern here?  And should I actually be proud that I take people's skin bar V-card?  Regardless, I'm totally proud. Somehow I doubt my mom is proud though.  Sorry Mom.

So we get to Jaguars.  I was hardly in the door before some strange man smacked my ass.  Seriously?  Meh. I did my usual plea bargaining with the bouncer and girl-behind-bars-taking-my-$20-cover-charge and asked if they'd reduce the price for me since I'm (a) pretty much a regular and (b) a girl.  No dice.  However they did give me 4 get-in-free cards!  July's gonna be fun! 

So 5 of us roll in and scan the place for potentially awesome seating.  One of the half naked cocktail waitresses comes over and is all "sit here!" and smashes 5 chairs together. At the end of the freaking stripper runway.  We all kind of look at each other and shrug and take our front-and-center seats.  

We rated the strippers and got up for those that were most impressive (read: most upside down) and remained low in our seats for those that had obviously birthed at least one child or that were clearly coked the eff out.  There was one particularly tall pretty blonde one that we all liked, so a few of us went up to the stage to give her our $2 bills.  (Because "it's policy" to give $2 bills instead of ones when you ask the bartender to cash out your $20. Seriously. That's what she told me.) Well apparently I got too close.  Or she got too close.  Or she wore too tall of shoes.  Or damnit, something just wasn't right.  Because as she went to flip herself upside down on that greasy pole, something horrific happened.  And of course, it happened to me.

I got roundhouse kicked to the face.  By a stripper.  
Who the SHIT gets roundhouse kicked?  And by a stripper, no less?!


Angel was all "Ohmygod, are you okay?!  I felt the WIND!"

Miraculously I did not take a spike heel to the eyeball or get knocked out.  I also managed to walk away without a knot on my forehead. My pride however?  Totally bruised.

So the moral of the story here, kids?
It is better to give than to receive. This is especially true of a Chuck Norris roundhouse kick to the face.

How Nic & Erin Are Totally Gonna Get Famous and Shit

So. I was watching America’s Got Talent last night when I got pretty much the best idea ever.  I'm totally going to make me and Erin famous.  Why didn't I think of this sooner?!

After watching these crazy girls that did some ridiculous trapeze act, I obviously had the genius idea that Erin and I now need a trapeze act.  Or singing act.  Or dancing act.  Or whatever. So I was all “Erin and I need a talent."

And Dave was all “Talent? Ummm…Y’all drink vodka. At the pool. In the middle of the day. That’s about it.” Which... when you think about it,is absolutely true.  Don't you look at me with those judgey eyes.  You're just jealous.  I know.

So after a few minutes of creative thinking,  I’m fairly certain I know how to get our asses to Vegas.  Basically we need to show up with the following ensemble:  Matchy butt star shorts, Hello Kitty swimmy arm floaties, Katy Perry sunglasses, and a pitcher of cherry vodka with some crazy straws.  We will likely make kissy faces also. Because that's how we roll. 



Also, we have created the most awesome slogan ever that I need to have printed on my forehead. Or a t-shirt.  Or underwear.  Best slogan ever = I don't enable. I support.  HELLO!  Awesome.  And I totally do that.  I support.  I absolutely 100% support your drinking habit and bad decisions. 

So, yeah, we can just sit in a kiddie pool on the stage of America's Got Talent, turn up “Shots” by LMFAO and proceed to scream over the music about all the shit we did in college and how we want to relive our glory days.

They totally would have to send us to Vegas. It's a no-fail situation… but mostly because that’s probably the only place where this type of behavior is acceptable.

And go.