The Napkin Diaries

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.

Okay seriously guys, you need to remind me that I am not 21 years old, I no longer can sleep through my first (three) classes, and I actually have to do real-life stuff.

READ: I cannot go to the strip club on a school work night!

How does this always happen? What started out as a friendly co-workery get together at the bar next door turned into a night with strange half-naked women.

I'd typically say "Let me 'splain," but really, there's not logical explanation for this. I went to happy hour with a group of co-workers. It was cool. We had some "team building." Had some laughs. Good stuff. And then we went home at 7:00 PM. I'm fairly certain this is where normal people would resume normal night time routines, like you know, eating dinner and going to bed before 11:00 PM.

Hi, yeah, remember me? I'm not very good at this whole "moderation" thing everyone keeps talking about.

Instead, I grab Husband and we go meet a couple of friends at a local bar, Carolina Crust, for some beers. And pizza. And apparently fucking tequila. We played some Bar Bingo (which is just Bingo with bar terms instead of numbers) and you'd be amazed at how crazy people get over needing someone with a microphone to say "N-Jagerbomb" and "B-Three Wise Men."

And seriously, why is it that after you have 3 buckets of beer, someone always says, "So. You guys wanna shot?" And everyone is all like "Yeah! That's the best idea evvvver." And then someone orders 5 shots of tequila. (BILLY.) So Billy ordered us some tequila, and then a little later we got our tabs from the waitress and Billy learned that each shot was $5. And that was just ridiculous. The shots were teeny, like didn't even make it up to the bottom line of the little plastic shot cup and the limes were disgustingly hard. (I don't have anything to say about the salt. The salt held up it's end of the deal.) So I mustered up some courage and decided I was going to argue with the bartender.

And by arguing I mean that I really went up to the bartender and said, "Soooo can I argue with you?" in the cutest voice I have. Asked him his opinion on how big a shot should be and how much he'd willingly pay for said shot. And his answer, as I'd hoped, was that he would pay less for more and then offered us another round of nasty ass tequila on the house. All the while, Husband was at the table saying "I bet Nicole will come back with free shots." I do my man proud.

So then, remember how we were talking about how someone always has the genius idea of ordering shots? Well, I always have the genius idea of going to the strip club. And sometimes everyone else is in that weird ass, dirty frame of mind where they just want to be balls-out ridiculous.

And apparently WEDNESDAY was that kind of night.

So Husband, Billy, and I venture to Jaguars. (I totally spelled it JUGuars at first.) And apparently a lot of other people were in a wild mood that night because it was surprisingly crowded. It was a typical stripper-y night. Lots of boobs. And beers. And judging. And laughing.

And okay, I have no idea how this happens, but it always does. Always. Somehow, I make eye contact with a stripper, and I smile, because I'm nice... and because I'm drunk. And then somehow "Eden" of Jaguars ends up on my lap talking thisclosetomyface about her life. And about how pretty my dress is. And all I'm thinking to myself is "Jesus Christ I do not want to see her garden." And then suddenly I somehow have a new stripper BFF. Every time!

So yeah, apparently I still act like I'm some lunatic college kid who can drink her face off until 3:00 AM on a Wednesday.

Here in Charleston, we apparently like to do things differently. Especially when it comes to our bar scene - or at least the naming of our bars in the bar scene.

A year or so ago, an old cafeteria-type restaurant was gutted and turned into this skeezy place called Rendezvous. For weeks, I was uncertain if it was a strip club, casino, or bar. There's no windows and the lettering on the sign is all red and pink and sexy. Apparently it's just a bar. I still beg to differ as I have never set foot inside.

Another restaurant closed down and a bar decided to take over it as well. The once Sticky Fingers in North Charleston has now turned into Market Street Saloon. The kicker? Market Street is downtown. And there is actually a saloon on the downtown street. However, the Market Street Saloon that is in skanky North Charleston, is NOT on Market Street. Tell me how in the hell you can name a Bar "So and So Street" and not actually require that it be located on So and So Street?! False advertising, much?

So whatever. After my stint of random illnesses over the past two weeks (thus explaining my hiatus, as well), I was more than ready to get out of the house, off the couch, and out of my fat pants. I mean, I love my fat pants, but I seriously needed to change clothes... at least for one night.

Our neighbors, Angel & Richard wanted to play and suggested we go to Market Street Saloon not on Market Street (MSSNOMS) (You like how it says "noms" at the end, don't you?)

So we went.

And let me tell you! That place is a SHIT SHOW. MSSNOMS = SS. Yes.

Because the bar is fairly new, the clientele hasn't exactly been established, and therefore it's every sumbitch for himself, apparently. There were the under-agers, the punks, the cowboys, the sorostitutes, the Navy boys, the skinheads... and us. Where we fit? I'm not quite sure. I am sure that I could have spent the entire evening without uttering a word and just watching the chaos around me. And the music selection? Oh dear baby Jesus. The DJ would go from "Shotz" by LMFAO to "Photograph" by Nickelback, to freaking country music. How does that make sense?! And where did he get his DJ degree? Sheesh. It jarred my brain every time a new song came on. At least he played "Single ladies" by Beyonce and I was able to do my rendition of her dance moves from the video. I know you're sad you missed that shit.

At one point, somewhat early in the evening, I noticed some dumb girl at the bar griping a couple of rags in one hand with her other hand strategically wiping the corner of her foul mouth. Bitch puked. All over the bar.

Bad enough right?

Wrong.

Bitch then proceeded to FIST BUMP everyone in sight for her aforementioned puke show.

We saw her later climbing onto the bar to dance. I anxiously awaited her plummet back to the puke-soaked concrete floor, however I was not granted this sight, as she managed to not fall somehow.

It gets better... later she was stumbling around, all zombie-like with googley eyes, with a tiny shot glass in her hand that she was sipping on like it was wine. Whichever group of men she would bump into she would stare at sideways and put up her fists like she wanted to fight them. Before she could vomit or perform a strip tease, her pretty, much-more-sober friend would come get her and guide her by the shoulders through the next group of victims to attempt to spare her dumbass any more embarrassment.

The saddest part about all of this? We all pretty much looked at each other in unanimous agreement - this little shit show of a drunk girl basically could have passed as my ex-best friend. And I used to be the tall pretty friend trying to save her from herself...

So on this Thanksgiving, I am most thankful for not having a shit show hooker trashcan of a friend that I have to babysit in the bar anymore. I am also thankful for the MSSNOMS for allowing me to witness the audacity that is MSSNOMS.

I'll count this as a win. Ah-thank you.

My birthday was supposed to be February 28, and I mean, it happened, but not the way it was supposed to. I ended up driving to Delaware with Dave to go to my Great-Grandmom Talley's funeral - she made it to 100!
We stayed with Jen and Pete and rocked out to Sing Star. And on my actual birthday, I was with almost all my family members on my mom's side of the family, which was cool because I've never spent a birthday with them. We had some cake (that had beer shaped candles on it) and just hung out. It was nice.
I had planned to go out full-force in Charleston so when that didn't happen, I knew there was only one thing to do: reschedule. So we did - for Friday the 13th. We had a big cook out at the house with 14 of our closest friends, then went to meet up with our favorite Sniders at Pearlz downtown. I was already a bit lit and I made that painfully obviously when I dropped the bottle of wine on the floor before ever leaving the house. It put a dent in the kitchen floor. Sshhh, don't tell Dave.
We had our obligatory oyster shooter(s) at Pearlz and caused a scene. Screaming "BIRTHDAY" continued on for this weekend too. We really scream it every weekend. But maybe we should come up with other two-syllable words to shout.
Birthday do-over did not end there because the next night, Dave, Michael, Billy and I were out for Winnie's birthday and then we partied at Bucca's. We were the loud kids in the corner that needed to be put in time out.
This night was particularly entertaining because we thought that taking camera videos was a great idea. Well, it was for everyone except for Michael who ended up being the entertainment on the other side of the lens. The four of us were toasting our little teeny shot cups and Michael managed to tip his over and spill it all over the table. Well, that's alcohol abuse so we had to make sure he could enjoy his shot and asked our waiter to bring us 1 straw. I'm sure he was like "WTF," since we all had beer bottles in front of us. Eww, beer through a straw. So when I said, "go" Michael began sucking up Royal Flush from the table. And I began filming. And then he began to nearly barf. If any of us had been anywhere close to sober we would have realized how disgusting this was. Instead we found it wildly amusing and encouraged him to keep sucking. When the "pre-puke face" showed up though, I was like "Nooooo. Stop! It's not worth it! Stop now." So he did. Even though Billy pointed to the spilt mess and just said "Finish it."
We obviously spent Sunday recovering by watching Role Models and Madagascar II (Rooooooaaaaaarrrrrr)
Dave and I took off Monday and my brother stayed in town, so we started drinking again. What else is there to do on your day off? Billy came over with his super fun new girlfriend, Sally and we raised hell. We started off with a game of truth-or-dare Jenga which led to Moonshine cherries being eaten, which led to Sally licking a pine cone, which ultimately led to Sing Star. Dave and Michael did a wonderful rendition of "99 Red Balloons" that I happened to accidentally video tape... ah, the camera video recorded. Gotta love it. All you can see is them dancing from the back, like Party Boy of course, and screaming the words to the song at the top of their lungs while trying not to laugh hysterically. I heart video.
I also heart birthday do-over weekend!

I don't know about you, but when the "accidentally awesome" nights happen, it makes me love my life even more. Joe and Laura were in town last night so a group of us got together at the Wild Wing in Mt. Pleasant. And not just any group... but a good group, one good for causing trouble, might I add: Joe & Laura, Jules & Adrian, Amanda & Jay (and Jay's roommate) and me & Dave.
Prior to this meeting, Jules, Adrian, Dave and I were at Tsunami accidentally getting wastey on Riesling and sake. We were happy by the time we made it to Wild Wing.
So we started drinking, then we started taking pictures, then we get really loud - the usual. Apparently our "usual" behavior made our waitress hate us because she seriously quit checking on us. I started going to the bar about 2 hours into our visit. Or maybe she just got sick of watching us pass around Amanda's hats that she conveniently brought or perhaps her eardrums hurt because we screamed "BIRTHDAY" every 3 minutes. Either way, she hated us. Thanks to Laura, we left her a nice note spelled out in toothpicks when we left.
So of course we're not ready to quit at 2 AM. Who does that? I'll tell ya who: Quitters. And that we're not. No brainer about where we're going next: Thee Southern Belle!
By this point we had lost Adrian & Jules, but the other 7 of us were still out in full force. We busted up in there like we usually do. I led the pack as close to the front of the club... as I usually do and we took over the front corner. We managed to take over the wheely chairs after a few minutes, so we had front row seats. As usual. I went up to the stage to politely give a dollar to one of the pretty ladies, and when I went to sit back down, I noticed my phone had fallen out of my purse and was in the crack of the seat. When I picked it up, I was like "Wait, this isn't miiiine," and without batting an eye, I shoved the new found phone into my purse and didn't say a word. I apparently turn into a kleptomaniac after ingesting 10 vodka drinks. So whatever, we hang out until about, oh who the hell knows what time it was... we just knew it was time for late night breakfast. So we left. And we managed to spilt up accidentally because mid-drive Dave decided that he hated IHOP and demanded we go to Denny's instead. So it was now down to Joe, Laura, Dave and me. We were providing a recap of the evening and just cracking up about all the debauchery and I was like, "Oh hey, look what I found." They were like "what the hell?!" and found it hysterical that I failed to mention for hours that I stole some dumbass' phone. I wanted to keep it. It was pretty. Dave told me I wasn't allowed to keep it, but that didn't mean that we weren't allowed to fuck with it.
Joe snatched the phone from the table first and started scrolling through the last numbers dialed. He happened upon Caitlin. Poor Caitlin. She received a text from Joe letting her know that "You were almost as good as your sister... almost." We then sent a few more texts, snooped through the stupid pictures, made fun of the toolbag names he listed his friends as, such as Vegas Joey and G-Money Nate, and gave ourselves a pat on the back for being complete assholes to some poor helpless clueless girl. We had several missed calls from Caitlin in the morning. Bahaha.
We had no idea what to do with the stupid phone so we figured we might as well just destroy it. We wanted to like blow it up or throw it off something tall, instead we opted to run it over in hopes that it would exploded. Okay, seriously, this was the most anticlimactic event ever. I did the honors of rolling over the phone in the Celica, and apparently my car is too wussy to do serious damage to anything because when we rolled over it, nothing happened! It was like and that was it. Nothing exploded, no shards of plastic came flying from my tires, nothing. Just and done. It squished some of the numbers and cracked the screen and now it won't turn on, but man, that was a disappointing end. The stupid thing is still in my car, just hanging out in the center console, patiently waiting for the perfect opportunity for a real going-away party. I hope the dude that lost that phone never reads this blog and puts it together. He's gonna be pissed.

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.

last night we celebrated catherine's belated birthday. first we went to the mustard seed in mt. p with a group of her friends for some dinner and drinks. well, actually dave and i went for a bottle of wine. we were drunk by 9:00. we're lushes. and honestly, i'm still drunk. and its noon. i'm "working from home" today. so is dave. poor catherine. she's working at work.
okay after the mustard place. catherine, dave and i went to gene's. her friend charlie joined us, but he only made it through one jager bomb and one pumkin pie tasting beer before he peaced out on us. us three, however, closed the place down and made friends with bartender miranda. the curly haired one. you know, well, you probably don't. sorry, im drunk.
i came home with three receipts worth of funny shit. so here come the stories...
okay really, we started ordering shots like they were providing us with life. like, if we didnt drink them, we would die, when in actuality, because we drank so many, we might all die today. we really have to remember to chose life... well, catherine ordered the "chocolate cake" shot. eww. it actually does taste like chocolate cake, but i have issues with clearish shots (eww, i might not be able to write this blog right now because typing "shot" makes my stomach flop around a little.... time out)

okay, time in. well, the chocolate shot arrived and dave was like, "is this going to hurt my tooth?" see, dave has this tooth, a sweet tooth if you will, that makes him unable to eat anything chocolate because it hurts. sometimes i wish i had this tooth because i would be like 40 pounds skinnier... whatever. so he asked if it would hurt his tooth and my response is "no. it's going to hurt your world." i wasn't lying.
catherine got her pen out at this point and started to try to write on the table. well, instead of ink... it just kind of carved instead, so she went with that. now half of all of our names are on the table in genes. her logic was that if she only wrote half our names, no one would know it was us. i blame the chocolate shot for this logic. well catherine is carving and dave threw his knife onto the table...
dave: that's all i do at work!
both cather (as she so carved her name) and i both said at the same time: carve?
dave: no. i'm in a knife club.
the conversation continued. the shots continued as well. we had some royal flushes and bomby bombs and more vodka/waters, vodka/tonics and jack/cokes... and i guess we were talking about how dave might have to travel for work. this conversation happened:
dave: i might have to be in japan.
nic: ohhh??
dave: yeah. i told you about okanawa.
nic: okanawa is in japan? ... i thought it was like, in missouri...
catherine: okanawa, missouri.
all the while, keep in mind that we are shoved into this teeny booth back in the corner where miranda would sporadically appear with more drinkies. she came back with a fresh round and i started squeezing my lime so my vodka would taste like lime vodka instead of regular vodka and i completely squirted catherine in the eye. i know because she said "you just hit me in the eye!" i said, "oh noo!!" but catherine then told me, "no! i liked it." so it was okay that i hit her with acidic juice in her pretty little eye because she loves me.
between the three of us, we racked up a $133 tab. god we were drunk. we decided to walk back to catherine's house. its right behind gene's... i turned into a flippin thief. maybe i shouldn't tell this part of the story... oh who cares. so we're walking down the road and i yank this tiki torch-like candle pole out of some store's potted plant. then i sprinted while screaming, "uh oh! i hope i'm not on video!" i then came across a sign that said "vote for someone" in another potted plant. or perhaps a yard. i took that too. then i took a road cone. but then i traded it for a prettier road cone. i left all three objects next to catherine's door. um, happy birthday? we ate some cool-pops or icy pops or freezy pops or whatever the fuck pops you want to call them. and we just continued to laugh and be drunk and look at myspace and tell each other how much we love the other one. dave continued sharing his funny ass stories from high school that consist of how people got pooped on... he actually told that story because i think catherine said something like "i got spit on" and we heard "i got shit on" so then dave told the story of how a lot of his friends actually did get shit on at the same time by this guy in high school. eww. thats gross, im not tellng anymore of that. ask dave for details if you want them, what the hell was i talking about before this? damnit now i have to go reread what i wrote. oh yeah, cool-pops. they wer delicious. then we all walked back to gene's to get our cars. what the fuck, i know. why we didnt just take them in the first place is beyond me too. oh, before we left cather's house, haha, cather... i tried to stick the tiki pole into her yard. well, i failed to notice that the top part had this ceramic frog like fixture attached to it and so when i slammed it into the solid earth below, the fucking frog split in half and inevitably split my hand skin in half too. now i have this freaking cut across my hand. for a minute i thought i needed a hospital. im gay. the cut is less than a tucker scratch. and i probably deserve it for stealing the ceramic tiki frog pole anyway.
catherine told me that she tried to go to mcdonalds but even though they are open 24 hours, they were closed. fucking liars. but a number 10 is chicken and 11 is fish. thanks, catherine. told you so, dave! ha.
dave and i passed the fuck out. and apparently i took off all my clothes in a corner. i dont know why i stood in the corner, but i did. we woke up drunk as shit. seriously, catherine, i'm so sorry you had to work today.
that's disgusting. i was silly morning drunk and started clapping my feet.
nic: have you ever clapped your feet like a seal? (proceeded to make seal-barking noises)
dave: seals dont have feet!! gah! and then he rolled over on the floor and grunted at me. yeah, he just laid on the floor for like 2 hours this morning. mostly because i was diagonally across the bed and tucker kept attacking my toes so he was probably safer down there. then i tried to sit up, but i had to lay back down because i was too dizzy. nic: ooooh! i feel like a weeble wobble! don't you feel like a weeble wobble??
dave: i feel like crap.
nic: weebles wobble but they dont fall down!
now we are both laying on the living room floor reeking of vodka and death. i fucking love you dave and catherine. i love you too gene's. and vodka. and cool-pops. i fucking love cool-pops. the end.

last night was the long-awaited, first annual white trash bash at the home of our dearly beloved, catherine. everyone was required to look as white trash as possible, drink from a keg of busch light, brown bag their mad dog 20/20 or pbr tall boy, and swig boone's farm. i mean damn, y'all we partied like we were some kinda rockstars. candle, opie, dave, michael and myself roll up in our camo, tacky ass nascar shirts and hideous eye shadow, only to find that catherine has left her own party because when she bought the keg, she forgot to buy the tap. oops. yes, this was an indication of how the night was going to progress.
as soon as catherine arrived, we did some jello shots to honor her presence and talked as redneck as we damn well knew how. shoot. there was beef jerky, twinkies on toothpicks, swiss rolls on toothpicks, treet (which is imitation spam for those of us who were unfamiliar with the substance) tatertots and squirt cheese (as i call it. not easy cheese) all at our disposal. putting easy cheese on the beef jerky became the thing to do once opie introduced the idea to the party.

we started taking pictures like we were never going to see each other again and wanted to be sure to remember what each other looked like... at one point i gave my camera to the man with the neon racecar shirt and pornstache and we all struck a ridiculous pose as we waited for the flash. bubba's friend bobby stuck his finger in the way of the camera and without any hesitation, i scream "get your finger out of there!" this shocked some people who were unaware of the current situation.... and this also cracked jayson up beyond all reason. like really, i'm not sure if i ever saw him double over and laugh that hard before. which, in turn, caused everyone else to crack the fuck up. we continued taking terrible pictures, no surprise.
catherine disclosed to me today that she has this "deal" where when she throws a party, she feels completely compelled to do a shot with everyone at the party; and about 6 shots with the special ones. um. not good. there were many times, because of catherine's "deal" that she decided she needed a time out and in the middle of our conversation, she chose to sit down on the floor, mid sentence. i would always just squat down with her like it was normal and ask "you okay?" and then continue on with our mindless conversation. which usually consisted of a lot of "i love yous" and "you are my favorite" and "want another shot" and "i love you more." we're sappy drunks, what can i say. during our floor conversations, there were times when we had to avoid the random redneck dog. catherine walked in and was like "dude, i don't even know whose dog that is." but he was welcome because he dressed for the occassion in his gamecocks tshirt and rebel flag bandana. we never figured out who brought the dog. he was sweet though, so we let him hang out.

oh yeah, and if you looked at the pictures, i'm sorry, but there are a few that i simply cannot explain. one that i can explain however, is the one of candle looking completely shocked and catherine behind her with her hand on candle's ass. literally. catherine managed to put her hand on candle's bare ass and it completely caught candle off guard and caused a ton of drunk laughter. i'd venture to say they were booty dancing, but there's no guarantee. they could have just been having a random "i love you" conversation when boom. hand on the ass. no explanation. also, to further explain the magnitude of our drunkness, catherine woke up today with a phone, but no phone battery. seriously, how the fuck can a person only lose the battery? too funny.

dave partook in the shots that everyone kept doing. i chose to do shots of boone's farm instead of vodka. wussy. but the first time they were all going to do a vodka shot, dave is like "catherine! i have to do this over the sink because i really don't know what is going to happen!" no pukey. success. though the sink did become the place of choice to take shots. lushes. after dave's shotfest, he decided to become an even more awesomely bad redneck by bringing back the "double hat" look. you know, one bill forward, one bill backward. and he seriously thought he was a genius for this. in every picture for a good 10 minute photo shoot, dave was like "i have to stand sideways so everyone can see my hats" and proceeded to tell us this everytime a picture was taken. dave then decided we needed to dance. in the middle of the kitchen. in front of the entire party. but see, dave and i have a special dance that we learned one afternoon while watching "a river runs through it" when brad pit was dancing with this girl in a bar. allow me to elaborate: dave and i smash our bodies together, facing one another. we wrap our arms completely around each other and say "go." at this point we begin to violently swivel our hips in a clockwise circle simultaneously while leaving our feet firmly planted in one spot. we do this repeatedly until we laugh so hard that we start to sweat and get overheated and have to get off of each other before we pass out. we're seriously doing this dance at our wedding. no question.
i now cannot recall what happened in what order for the rest of the night because i had drank about 5 solo cups of busch light and did more shots and swigs than i could count. and i had drank about 5 or 6 beers before we ever got the the trash bash. woo. it was mostly wandering around the kitchen, eating twinkies and slim jims and sitting down randomly with catherine for "breaks." the only thing missing from this party was joe long. i said that too. and i meant it. move now, please? to show just how wasted we all were, we left the party at like 12:45. we're so old and drunk these days. we came home and ate the shit out of cheesesticks and cheese sandwhiches. it's frightening just how well we all pull off the white trashness. i'm ready for round two when you crazy bitches are. yeefuckinghaw.

there's this bar in west ashley called gene's and it is, by far, the most brillant bar i've ever encountered. here's why: they have table shuffle board, approximately 200 beers to chose from and mother effing connect four. no, i am not even kidding. they make a bar that has connect four at it. and you can play it while you drink your fabulous new favorite beer called purple haze. (yay, catherine finally suggested a good drink... haha) seriously, i don't know the last time i had that much fun. catherine got everyone shitfaced with her 9 rounds of shots... to the point where we wrote all over the coasters and proceeded to steal them. we also attempted to add our initials to the bathroom wall, but you see, our keys were not sufficing as well as we had hoped.
here was catherine's suggestion: well i have matches! we could burn our names into the wall!
my response: no catherine, that will burn down the bar.
catherine: oh yeah, you're right.
told you we were shitfaced. we basically just took like 20 pictures of us being drunk and cracked up all night. and apparently all kinds of funny stuff was said, but the only thing anyone can remember is me saying "if i had arm hair, it would be standing up right now!" in response to taking a violent shot of something...
okay, this is a little random and it may be hard to explain, but i seriously have to attempt to tell you people this. i makes me look like a moron, but its worth it. okay, so for months, catherine has been telling me that i need to try sake. well, everytime i read this, i pronounced it as saaake (long a). one day i asked dave "what's saaake? because catherine keeps talking about it." he laughed for about 10 seconds and then said, "you mean sah-key?"

oohhhhh. i get it now.

seriously, i thought i was smarter than that. and i mean, i really went for months wondering what type of drink this saaake was. okay, well to make it even awesomer, i was in target today and they have a freaking shirt that says "sake to me" you better believe i bought that shit. i'm wearing it tonight when we go eat sushi and talk about sake. and by the way, sake is gross, but the fact that i called it saaake and not sah-key for like 90 days, it completely ridiculous. and that is blog-worthy by my standards..

and for my next trick... i will attempt to recreate this past weekend using as many descriptive words as possible. prepare yourself. this is going to be a ride. a really twirly, messy, drunk ass ride.
joe long paid charleston a visit thursday night whereupon it was only natural to get wasted. dave and i hosted a mini pregame party that included joe, candle, opie, jayson, megan and our new friend keenan. we pounded our way through half a bottle of jager, one and a half bottles of champagne and god only knows how much evan williams and beer. all before 10:30.
opie hauled our asses downtown. jayson hauled joe with him. ah, long lost jayson. what a nice addition to the debauchery. we got the sweet corner booth in purple tree. and then we were approached by a large camera with a bearded man behind it asking to take pictures of our cool as group of friends. by the way we were posing and screaming and cheesing, you would think that we had never been in front of a freakin camera before. so now we are plastered all over some website somewhere *no pun intended. great. actually, that's not really surprising.

after this, everything got hazy and for the sake of pride, i will leave names out of the following situations that took place: someone got insanely drunk/sick and i played puke fairy (how many times is that, 502, now? ugh) for a good hour or so while i held others hostage for moral support; there was crying mostly on my behalf because i was afraid that i too would get pukey, mostly from being around all the pukey, and i'm a real wimp when it comes to everything pukish; a dude slapped another dude in the face; two people almost got arrested... one of which got thrown slightly through a window, well actually this person's elbow was thrown through a window; clothing was lost; bartabs for each person were over $50; there was a dance off (well, okay, it was a pretend dance off from the nic and joe show. but i mean, i thought it was funny as hell); a noise violation was acquired; somehow a candle exploded in my living room,where i ended up spending about an hour with a roll of papertowels and an iron steaming the wax off my effing glass table; a cab driver was forced to listen to someone's life story (that was my fault, i needed a counselor of my own by the end of the night). and keep in mind all of this occurred between the people mentioned above plus one more person...
which brings me to the most exciting point of this entire blog: I MET CATHERINE! As many many of you know, catherine and I both dated the same doof from columbia who stands about 7 feet tall and has the ability to make a human feel about 7 inches tall. her a i have been "online" friends (how cheesy) for the past 2 years. and i mean, i really thought she was the shit but i was afraid i'd never have the opportunity to actually meet her in person. low and behold, my ass is standing at the bar at purple tree trying to order some maniac shot when i hear "niiicooolllee!" and it was catherine! we hugged each other like we were long lost elementary school pals. which is what she really does feel like because we've been "friends" for so long. the night turned into a whirlwind of applebombs, buttery nipples, and some red fruity shots. seriously, this girl is so awesome. we ended up kidnapping her... well actually she came with us willingly back to our apartment. we remained drunk and out of control until the wee hours. so we all woke up friday feeling like death's cousin. joe came to the rescue and ordered some fucking fantastic breakfast burritos from sonic. heaven. pure sweet heaven wrapped up in a soggy tortilla. i ate two. it was glorious.
we basically did the same thing again the next night, minus purple tree. i personally temporarily banned us from the bar due to our actions the night before. catherine, jayson, candle and opie came back over to entertain joe, dave and myself. i seriously love these people. we pounded through some evan and i was half cross eyed by the time catherine got there...and she didn't come empty handed. she came bearing gifts... from satan himself...[insert doom music here] she brought motherfucking tequila. ewwww. um, needless to say i was the puker that night. but i bounced back like a damn champ and came back to party after i got done caressing the toilet. gross. my drink of choice was water after that. i can't really tell you anymore of like what was said or what was funny because you know, honestly, i was just that drunk.
when i woke up, i opened the door to find the boobah standing there. dave and i cracked the hell up and the proceeded to pirch the demon in front of joe's door because well, duh, he put it in front of ours. then my phone jingles, i dance a little, and then i read my jingly little message. it's from catherine. she had woken up about 3 minutes after she was supposed to be at work and when she got in her car to speed home, she ran into a detour: tequila. she, too, had to puke. only her experience was worse, because instead of a toilet, she had a side of road to comfort her. i laughed. then i felt bad, but then i laughed again when she told me that she laughed too. bad tequila, bad!
so what is it now, saturday night? yes, yes it is. do you know what we did on this night? oh it was fabulous... we willingly went to participate in the viewing of motherfucking snakes on a motherfucking plane. there is only one word for this movie: ridiculous. the entire 2 hour experience was all worth it when mr. samuel l. said those infamous words: i'm tired of these mother fucking snakes on this motherfucking plane! the whole place cracked up. some even clapped. i think i was a clapper. ass-o-nine. we came back and drank more. i don't really know how. dave and i wussed out around 2:30 and the rockstars catherine and joe devised a brilliant plan to throw water balloons at hookers. but they ran into two problems: they could not find water balloons and they could also not find hookers. so apparently they spend the night on a curb at the battery swigging champage. can someone get them a trophy or something? jesus.
we pigged out on greasy, wonderful baroni's italian heaven the next morning thanks to catherine. well, by "morning" i mean like 2:00 pm, but that's neither here nor there.
i can honestly say that this was one of the funniest weekends of the year. i had such a shitty summer and i really needed to be with friends this weekend. and now that i have catherine to add to my bomb ass friend list, not only is my year better, my life is better. woo! so thank all of you for a freakin good ass weekend. and extra thank yous to candle and catherine for letting me cry a lot this weekend. both of you were so wonderful, and i really needed to be surrounded by good people, so thanks.
so yeah, my friends are the shit. and we're awesome. can we do it again? real soon? love the hell out of you guys.

102 F hosted a Moonshine Keg Party last night. Turned out to be rather interesting. I will do a mini recap of the evening for you:
- I came over and did Dave's laundry. Dave was not present.
- We had a keg with no tap until Dan got there.
- Shawn ate a strawberry that had been soaked in moonshine. I don't think it tasted good.
- Shawn later threw up.
- We made a beer pong table out of Joe's closet door and dressers.
- There are about 30 people there that I did not know. I think they were under age, too.
-Ashley Pike, Ashley Alden and I had a very interesting conversation about 2 guys that we know. Both of which we believe to be gay. And creepy.
- We wrote our names on our cups and still managed to drink from cups with other people's names on them.
- Gabby and I had a really good psychology talk.
- Joe's "sex lights" were a hit. We thought they would be sketchy. Turns out people like them.. or maybe they were sketchy themselves.
- Senn wore someone's beer... in his lap.
- I vandalized Dave's bathroom mirror with lip liner.
- We finally got a picture of Robby.
- Some dude played Excite Bike on old school Nintendo. And got really excited about it.
- Stephanie has now coined the phrase "Duck Lips". They look like this:
- I actually made a trip to each bathroom in the apartment. All for specific reasons. I've never done that in one night.
- Some chick was really impressed with my shirt that said "Turn Me On"
- There were a large amount of Asian girls there.
- There was drama. But I think it helped the girls bond.
- Most of us got high off the markers that we wrote on our cups with.
- I made a turkey, cheese and tomato sandwich when I came home.
That pretty much sums of the Moonshine party. Moonshine = Bad. Shawn can tell you. I could have told you that, too actually.

Another trip to Charleston happened this past weekend. Dave, Joe and I took the Celica to the lowcountry. This was a bad idea on many accounts. First, a monsoon hit the upstate and almost drowned us. I made Dave drive which was good and bad. Good because I have crappy night vision, bad because I didn't have control over the brake. I was one big anxiety attack for most of the ride. Blah. We successfully made it, though, and immediately went downtown.
While walking through the parking garage to get to Purple Tree, I managed to wedge my stilletto heel into this teeny tiny crack in the concrete, get my shoe completely stuck and almost fall on my head trying to free myself. Only I could pick the one stupid crack in the damned parking garage to fall into... it took two of us to get the bastard out. I should have known then that I was doomed for the rest of the weekend...
Megan and I started the night off with a Mind Eraser. Followed by another Mind Eraser. God, we are idiots. We had some Vanilla and Diets and one more Mind Eraser... because two just isn't enough. Nothing really exciting happened in Purple Tree. Although I did send Catherine a text to see if she was coming out and it went something like this:
Nicole: are you coming downtown?
Catherine: yeah, where are you?
Nicole: Purple Tree.
Catherine: Dollar?
Maybe she thought I was at the Dollar Tree. I don't know. I never confirmed the confusion...(for those of you who do not know, Catherine is one of Adam's ex-girlfriends, like myself. Her and I, how shall I put this? Shared a few stories and basically became reeeeaaaal good friends and have made many an attempt to actually meet in person, share a hug and take a pleasant little picture for all to see. We still haven't managed to do this, but do not fret, that day will come.) Anyway, City Bar was next on the to-do list. As soon as we busted up in there, the bartender that loves Megan started lining up Apple Bombs. Ooooh weeee, that was nice. So then, a great idea came to Megan and I: we should dance, not on the platform/pole that we usually molest, but rather on the BAR. See?
Jesus help us. We boosted our drunk asses up on the bar... I do mean boosted too -- some dude had to push me to get my ass up there... started shaking our asses and made one hell of a scene. Of course, I almost busted my ass and brought Megan with me. You may not be aware of this, but bars are very slippery when wet. And since drunk girls like us get on these bars and knock over drinks, we are in fact the ones who cause the slipperiness. We danced for a while and then got kinda tired so we decided to get down... most ungraceful dismount ever. We just plopped down and scooted off the edged mid-song. Real classy. I had looked down to see if Dave was watching while I was dancing, but I found him looking around instead. I got all whiney and asked why he didn't want to watch me. He told me that he was watching me, but then noticed the other 30 guys watching me and decided to watch them instead, one particular little Chinese man he said was especially gawking, so if necessary he could kick some moron's ass. I slurred something about him being a sweetheart and such a good boyfriend and how I just love the hell out of him. Yay for Dave.
We went home or got kicked out of the bar or something. Either way, I was a waste case. Had I known the hangover that was to come Saturday morning, I would have never drank a sip Friday night. Curse you, Mind Erasers. How I hate you. So needless to say, I laid in bed until 7 pm Saturday. Dave brought me Sonic, but I couldn't eat, because chewing was too much work. Dave offerred to carry me to the bathroom to puke, but I couldn't move enough to get him to carry me. I was so miserable. We opted to be low key Saturday night so we just went over to Richard's house, one of Dave's friends. I didn't drink a drop of alcohol but managed to laugh my ass off pretty much the entire night. Those guys have some ridiculously HA-larious stories to share. At one point, we went to see something on the computer in Richard's little office area. Well, unknownst to us, we also stumbled upon Booh-Bahs. Yes, Booh-Bahs. For those of you unfortunate enough to have never experienced a Booh-Bah, let me bring you up to speed -- they are these little furry creatures, similar to Tellatubbies, that are fat, covered with forehead warts, and have the creepiest buldging eyes any stuffed animal has ever possessed. They also sing and dance for you. They say "booooooo baaaaahhhhh," pause momentarily, and then play this catchy little tune and kinda rotate poking out their asses and bellies. We put two of the demented monsters face-to-face and forced them to dance together. I have to say that I have never been so amused by a children's toy as I was that night. We repeated this act many more times. That is, until we found the doll manufactured by Satan himself. I mean, we're talking Exorcist shit here. Okay, you know how you used to butcher your sister's Barbie doll's hair when you were little? Well, that's the hair that this doll had. It also had only one winky eye that resembled more of a lazy eye than a wink, really. And lastly, the little son of a bitch would cackle and stick it's horridly long tongue out at you when you squeezed its stomach. Ewwww, creepy. What kid in it's right mind would want to play with that shit?! Richard said he found the bastard at some little backwoods antique-type shop up in the mountains of North Carolina... good to know that is exactly where Dave is from. Yay, my boyfriend's hometown is also the hometown of the little shop of horrors. Seriously, I would be scared to sleep at night with that thing in the house... you'd wake up to find that little shit staring at you with a knife in it's hand doing it's demonic little cackle with its ugly lazy winky eye and too long pointy tongue. Ugh. So our Saturday night consisted of incriminating stories, Booh-Bahs and Satan.
So the trip to Charleston wasnt't the best one, given the worst hangover ever, but it was good and I had fun. And I also now want a Booh-Bah. No more Mind Erasers, though. Ever. Gah.

Friday the 6th of January, we went downtown to celebrate being back in Clemson. We (me, Erin, Kim, Joe, Corey) ended up meeting Wiggins, Jabba and Chew somewhere along the way so we had quite a gathering of drunks. Erin and I sang the Hippopatamus song to Wiggins... reallly loudly in Tiger Town, while standing up... we also took a lot of shots to celebrate the free pour that we now have. We later decided we want our mini bottles back because we get drunker with them. Whatever.
We left downtown and got Corey to drive Erin's car. We put Wiggins in the trunk because he is the most out of control and because we ran out of room in the back seat. Well, we are all screaming and carrying on when we see blue lights behind us all of a sudden. SHIT. Everyone goes into panic mode and starts flailing about trying to fumble for seatbelts. Wiggins, all the while, is in the back with Erin's first aid kit saying that he swears there are emergency tampons back there if any of us need them. Becauce tampons will help us... So we pull over in the sketch ass parking lot of this car fixing place and the cop starts coming toward us. Everyone is "ssssshhhhing" everyone else and we are trying to be quiet and calm. As Corey is rolling down the window and just before our cop lady gets to him, Wiggins bursts out, "I've seen her titties!!!" Do you know how impossible it was to not laugh at that very moment? So, the cop gets to the window, gets all of Corey's info and shit, and goes back around the car. We are all trying to be quiet, but we are engaged in the "drunk whisper," you know, where you think you are being quiet but you are actually being louder than your normal volume? So we are yelling at Wiggins because Wiggins keep talking about emergency tampons, which in actuality, there were no tampons anywhere in the first aid emergency kit. Joe requested a crowbar to beat Wiggins into silence... Erin told Wiggins to "just sit on your hands and shut up!" I just kept giggling and snorting and all of us pretty much thought we were going to jail. We also keep yelling/laughing/sshhing Wiggins for telling us how he had seen the cop's boobs. None of us believed him at all. We just thought he was being belligerent. Well, as it turned out, Wiggins did know the lady cop... She came back over, told Corey to just slow down, gave him a warning and asked, "is that P in the back?" Apparently Wiggins also goes by P... We all cracked the hell up. I laughed so hard I hurt. So thanks, Wiggins, for seeing cop boobies and getting us out of jail free.

Michael and Emily met us there -- Yay! I hadn't seen Emily in so long, so it was really nice to see her. We all just sat in a booth and made fun of people all night. I don't know if someone made the decision that all the bad dancers in Charleston should go to Purple Tree that night, but holy hell, every person on that dance floor was a moron. There was one guy just flailing around with no purpose at all, another guy that was just stepping from side to side but not even with the beat and then there were these two really large girls with too little clothing and too much energy bumbling about the dance floor.
I think because of this ridiculousness, Dave felt compelled to buy Mind Erasers. Three 6 ways. Jesus.Christ. So we paired up for the drinks, because they didn't make them into shots -- they were just 3 gigantic glasses of disaster waiting to happen. Dave and I took one glass, Emily and Michael took another... leaving Joe and Adrian the last one to share. They kinda looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, mumbled something about not being gay and just drank it. And really, they weren't kidding when they named it a Mind Eraser. They never kid about that drink. We all got waaaaasted.
We had to make a stop at McDonald's for some chicken nuggets on the way home. And Joe had to get out and pee in the McDonald's bushes. He had decided that he would crouch down and start saying "here kitty kitty" if for some reason cops saw him in the bushes... nevermind the fact he was completely drunk off his ass. Good in theory, I suppose. Luckily there were no cops. Just chicken nuggets. So we ate all those and then passed out.
We all woke up pretty hung over Saturday. Sonic was the cure. And watching Eurotrip. We literally sat on our asses until 7:00 pm that night when we went out for the night. And this time, I had Megan with me! Woo hoo!! We ate at Wild Wings and then ran over to Henry's to begin the drinking. Amaretto Sours were apparently my choice of drug for the evening because I had about 9 of them I think. On top of some Jager Bombs and other funness. Okay, well Dave got drunk in a hurry and was using me as a support beam before we ever left Henry's. I was getting a nice buzz by this time and started getting silly. Megan kept slamming her head into these bricks of doom that were sticking out of the wall behind her. So we decided it was time to change bars. We went to 213.
Well, I think I was drunk there because Megan was wearing this scarf thing that I could not for the life of me remember the name. I looked at it, back and her and then back at the scarf-like object. I was like, "what is this called again? A creme brulle?" She about fell out of her chair. Unknownst to me... the dame scarf is called a Pashmina. Say it with me. Pash-mi-na. Not creme brulle. Who knew? They were playing awesome 80s music so we all felt extremely compelled to sing along. While I cannot remember exactly what song we were singing, it must have been something very intense about love or something because otherwise, we would not look quite so ridiculous. Well maybe... We had some shots, bumbled around, drank some more, took about 86 pictures and then decided it was that time. The best time of the night: City Bar time.
The minute we made it to the bar, the bartender was lining up shots for us. Megan is good friends with the owner and the bartender so we were priority there. Yay for Megan. Apple Bombs for all. Mmmm, heaven. So Megan and I started shaking our asses. Then we had to go back for more drinks. This time it was a Beam and Coke for me, a raspberry martini for Meg, and a double Jager Bomb (that had not enough bomb whatsoever). Mr. Bartender only charged us $12 for all of that! Hell.Yes. This called for a celebration -- on the platform with the pole. It's tradition. Megan and I cannot go to City Bar without completely making a scene on this pole. Ah, how I Iove shaking my ass. So I don't really know what caused it, but Megan decided that using her belt for a prop was the best idea of the night. It was quite amusing. I think I have a picture with ever person using the belt in a different way. You'll need to check out my pictures for the full effect. We closed down City Bar and went home. It was such a bad ass night. Way fun.
Well, when we got home, Dave and I got into "serious talk" mode. And we ended up sitting on the bathroom floor for almost 2 hours. When we finally came out and decided to go to bed, we realized that Joe was not in his designated spot on the couch. We freaked out and thought he left. So Dave went to the jeep to get a flashlight and started searching the jeep, the truck bed, the bushes and the backyard. We couldn't find Joe anywhere! So we started searching every room in the house. We found him on the floor next to so unpacked boxes with our comforter... passed out. Jackass. Had me scared as hell. I thought he ran away. Gah, Joe. So we fell asleep.
Woke up hung over again. Ugh. This time we went and ate the hell out of some crazy good Italian food. Mmmm. We finally left Charleston. We almost had to stop to steal the sign that said Speed Hump Steve's Step Mom. That was funny. We stopped at my house in Simpsonville for some real food and then came back to Clemson to pass out again. Hell of a good weekend. I think we all needed it. And the six-pack got to reunite -- always a good time. I love you guys!

So, I am officially the new girl at Esso. Wooo Hooo! I am way excited about this job. Candle actually had been hounding my ass about applying for a good month or so and I finally gave in and tried it out. My first day was Monday. It went really well. Minus the smart ass kitchen guys who refuse to call me Nicole and refer to me only as Damn New Girl. But I give them hell back, so they like me. They actually have said they think I am quiet. Ha! I told them to give me a week. They'll see. So today I actually ran around on the floor all by myself. Yay. I have a job. And I managed to get through my first real day with only one screw up. So thank you, Candle, for making me get a job. Heart you.

In other drunk news: last night was karaoke with Ed Miller. Duh. Joe and I drank Christmas (beam and coke, for those of you who have not been keeping up with the blogs). So Candle was all hellbent on singing. I really didnt want to, but she was like "get fucked up and then you will!" so I did. and we did. "Nic and Company" (me, Candle, Joe and Jayson) sang Shot Through the Heart. I was waaaasted. And I sorta took over the performance. Imagine that. I was rockin' my tacky shades and using the mic cord as a dance prop. I also incorporated a few well-placed CHAs into the song. For my fantastic efforts with the cha, Ed Miller rewarded me with free shit. I got to pick from a pile of junk, and of course I went for the biggest, gawdiest, most ridiculous thing I could find: a big ass golf ball with the Miller High Life Light logo plastered across it. Cuuuute. Tacky as shit. Love it. I'm going to display it in the apartment, along with the road sign that I stole this weekend in Charleston that reads Speed Hump. Yesss. Cha! (I will get to the Charleston story momentarily) So, yeah here is a lovely picture of us posing with our ball. Ha. Everyone wanted to touch my ball. I was like no, bitches, it's my ball... so I was drunk. And then I got to take it to Beezer's. Which was amusing. Yay for balls. Ha.

So okay, also in drunker news: I drove to Charleston Saturday to get waaaasted with Megan and Emily. We went to City Bar and did the normal round of 8000 shots and then grinded with the pole. I pretended to dance on it... in all actuality, the pole was the only thing keeping me standing. We left City Bar and ran over to 213. Lucky for us, I had aquired a VIP pass which allowed all of us to weissel in without paying or waiting. Sweet. However, it was way packed out, so we left and went to Wild Wings. Took even more shots. And eventually got kicked out at closing time. Fuuuun. We ate the hell out of the hot dogs that we bought at 2:00 and then we took Emily back so she could pass out and avoid the madness that was to come. The madness came in the form of Thee Southern Belle; the fully nude, trashy ass titty bar in Charleston. They actually have redecorated and now have couches everywhere -- like it looks like theater seating in there. Ridiculous. Also ridiculous that I know they have redecorated. Me, Megan and Andrew sat there for like 4 hours in amazement of how well these girls could shimmy up and down a freakin stripper pole. Around 5:00 am, all the girls pranced out and we got to pick our favorite to go get a private dance from if we wanted to. Our girl Cookie was there! Yesss. (If you recall, over Spring Break, we liked the girl in the girlscout costume, and I appropriately named her Cookie and she had since become our favorite stripper.) So we go in the back room, whereupon she absolutely molested me and Megan. Like, Megan actually held my hand for a second because she was so freaked out. Really funny. Cookie was all swingin her hair on us, breathing in our ears, purring, smacking her ass, biting us, buzzing in our crotches... yes, buzzing. And it is really strange. And I'm not sure exactally how I feel about that still. The girl is nuts. After she was done with her little show, Megan said my name for some reason and Cookie was like, "Nicole?! That's my name, too!" I was like, "I knew I liked her for a reason." So yay, I have the same name as Cookie. Ha. There is an accompliment. What a night. We even got huge t-shirts out of it.. with half naked chicks on the back. Woot.

So today we have learned that it is good to say yay for new jobs, big balls, and stippers.

The End.

It was party-your-hydraulic-ass-off weekend in Charleston. And let me just note that indeed, my hydraulics, along with hips, thighs, and arms are all in pain from the madness that was the Chucktown Shindig.
Emily and I drove down Friday night and we were ready to get the party started around 11:00. It was me, Emily, Michael, Matt Pat, Sarah, David, Adrian, Stephanie, Dan, Rob, Mark and of course my Megan and her friends Andrew and Chris. We went to the Blind Tiger first, but I was itchin' to shake my ass, so I rounded up most of the group and forced them to go to City Bar. Oh it was worth it. Megan of course bought us 8000 shots and David even did a round or 27 for us. Me, Megan and Stephanie put on a show on the pole; however, we were rudely interrupted by these crazy seizure-like Chinese people. Gah. Wait your turn. Like really, they convulsed for 6 minutes straight. I was like WTF and just took more shots.
A little later into the night, Mark and I finally introduced ourselves for real to each other. Let me tell you, this kid can friggin' dance. Holyshit. He is amazing. And to find a guy that can actually show me up, let alone keep up with me, is way hot. So yeah, Mark and I decided we needed to host a little show around the pole. We did these badass moves that actually looked kind of choreographed. It was the hottness. Then of course, the crazy Chinese couple had to get up there and like have a dance off with us... what is this? You Got Served?... They were just jealous of mine and Mark's sweet moves.
We finally had to remove our hydraulic drunk asses from the bar and go the hell home. We only had one vehicle for 7 of us. Can I now thank Adrian for being super awesome and for driving a super massive Titan truck? Yeah, thank you. We put Steffles (as Mark likes to call Miss Stephanie) in the front seat so she could semi-sober her cute little ass up. It took us like 32 hours to get out of the parking garage. For serious. Well not really, but at least 32 minutes.... so all the while, Stephanie decided she needed the vent to blow directly on her face with minimal space between her and the AC. Well, this worked out well, until we had to use the break and she smacked her entire face into the grill of the AC vent. Then she made the pouty face and accompanied it with the 'awwww" scrunched her nose, rubbed her forehead and cheek and took it like a champ as we all made ridiculous amounts of fun of her. Loveyougirl!
David, Adrian and I realized we still wanted to drink, everyone else went to bed and I went back to their apartment. Yeah, we had good intentions of continuing the binge, however we got sucked into American Dad, Family Guy, Sealab 2021, and Venture Brothers and finally gave up around 4:00. Thank you [adultswim] for entertaining my nocturnal ass time and time again. Oh and Dave, quit using all your crazy spy techniques to look at this entry and read my blog like all the other normal kids, gah. Haha.
Everyone was a waste of space on Saturday. It was a hellova monsoon too. Which was beneficial -- allowed for minimal movement and a good excuse to only change positions on the couch when a given body part began to tingle. We came to life around 6:00ish. We ate at Southend Brewery and were at Purple Tree Ultra Lounge by 9:30. Enter the drunken madness. It started slow, we were the first alcoholics in the bar. So we immediately started doing round after round after round of shots. Some include, but are not limited to: red headed slut, royal flush, mind eraser, perfect pussy, soco kamakazie and i cannot remember the rest because I got waaaaasted. So yeah, at first we were semi-bored, but fret not that all changed quickly. We were so damn entertained, it was stupid. Purple Tree has these screens on the walls that project these crazy patterns that resmeble somethink like the following: (a) sand and oil, (b) mercury, (c) liquid hot magma, (d) zinc and food coloring. A consensus was never made. But theses crazy things changed colors and only repeated small amounts of the pattern... needless to say, we didn't need drugs to enjoy the goodness that was the spinny light designs of wonder on the walls of the ultra cool ultra lounge. And there were blinky lights on the ceilng and color changing panals on the walls. My preferred color of the evening was the underappreciated sea-foam green.
Then it was dance time. Steffles, Millie, Mr. Mark Gramling, and myself found our crazy asses in the middle of the dance-a-thon and went completely buckwild on the floor. Though this time the floor was saturated in filthy spilt beer and liquor and other unknown substances which made for difficulty in manuevering in the insane pink heels. Being the pro I am however, I conquered the filth and danced my ass off. Until the crazy techo music entered. Do you know how hard it is to dance to techno when (a) you do not have glow sticks, and (b) the bass sporadically leaves the song? Everyone would just kind of stand there and bumble around until somewhat of a knock would come back. Stephanie and Emily gave up and returned to their tasty drinks. Mark and I however refused to stop. He came up with a really funny, yet useful idea: dance to the song in your head. He did. I did. And apparently we picked the same song because we were the only two people really dancing and we were actually pretty in sync given the fact there there was no freakin rhythm to the song at all. Yeah, we rock out to the max.
Bar tab: $415.00. Holymotherfreakinhell.
None of us wanted to stop drinking, so we all went back to Sarah's. Way fun. All the Takenoters/Tiger Roarers sang for us, everyone took turns on the bongos, Emily and Michael passed out on each other on the couch (yes, Emily's mouth was hanging wide open), and we were too lazy to play circle of death, so instead we just played never-have-i-ever. That was my genius idea. We finally peaced out around 4:00. Damn, we know how to have a good time. Emily and I treked home around 5:30 Sunday afternoon. Had a little roadrage, well a lot, but we made it. And it was damn fun.
So way super massive thanks to Emily, Megan, Michael, Mark, Matt, Stephanie, Dave, Adrian, Sarah, Dan, and Rob. I had such a blast. And I am so so happy and excited that I got to better my friendships with all of you. (And way glad I had someone to dance with my crazy ass the whole time... Mark...). We know how to do it right. Love you guys! Looking forward to doing it all again for July 4th!

So I survived the Senior Walk. Amazing. And amazingly fun also. We began our adventure at 6:30 Monday night at Esso. It was the first mexi-Monday of the season. Woot Woot. That in itself calls for a celebration. Esso was giving a free beer to everyone sporting the SW shirts. So hot. Wearing tshirts downtown is the bomb. The sign at Esso said something about "Party with Cookie." I immediately cracked up as my imagination took me back to Spring Break where I received that splendid lap dance from Cookie the Girlscout Stripper. I wonder if it's the same Cookie. I'd like to find out. She can give me another crazy lap dance. Maybe. It was kinda weird. I still don't know if I was supposed to like it or not.
We then went to Peppino's Pizza where we got $1 slices of pizza. Do you understand how exciting that is? Ate the hell out of it too. Again, praise to the almighty tshirt; aka fat disguiser. That deserves a woot woot too. (by the way, the woot woot has been pirated from Dan Lavander.)
Once we filled ourselves up on grease and carbs, it was time to start the reeeal drinking. To Overtime we go. Megan and I decided we wanted a shot. Oooh, there's a surprise. So we asked David what one of those badass shots were named that he made for us last week. I cracked up when I learned the name... Piece of Ass. So Megan has to say to the bartender "Hey, can I get a... uhhh... piece of ass...??" Ha! Best piece of ass I had all night. Actually it was the only ass I had all night. Damn good too. So then we drowned ourselves in Long Island, Red Death, Jager Bombs, Apple Bombs... you know, all the good stuff - especially the forbidden Mind Eraser. Who invented that shit? And how is it that there are morons like us that actually enjoy rotting our livers with such a drink?! I want to thank you, Mr. Mind Eraser, for all the good times you have given me. You rock out to the max. Oh, and apparently I coined that saying last night too. Everything was "too the max." Examples include but are not limited to: You suck to the max; he is gay to the max; I can shake my ass to the max; that bouncer is the bomb to the max. So David, hot bartender and bouncer walked by last night and I was like "I just want to like pet his muscles." He had way hot arms...to the max. So Megan is like "HEY! David! Come here" And proceded to give me the okay to feel him up. I got all embarassed and refused to uncross my arms or look up. Sometimes I revert back to acting 10. It happens. Whatever. So we took about 20 pictures at Overtime. Ones consisting of some of the girls dancing on the tent pole as well as Joe attaching signs that say "Under 21" and "Over 21" with arrows pointing to his crotch. Typical Joe for you.
Then Megan and I snuck away to Backstreets. Where we consumed a whole apple bomb each. No wonder I was wired until 6 fucking am... I managed to smack my ass into the owner of TTT's. He was playing pool. My mammoth ass ran into him. I think I was just standing there and it leaned over and punched him. He didn't seem to mind really. I also got hit on my two strange guys named Herman and Dan. Can I just say that Herman is one of the most God-awful names ever? I mean, who does such damage to their own child? Bastards. They told me I looked "very nice this evening" I wanted to be like "dudes, Im in a tshirt, a brightass orange skirt, Im slightly disheveled and I have beer stains already.... what part of that constitutes very nice?"
Whatever. So we went back to Overtime. Because apparently we are addicted. Next we did a lap through Tiger Town Tavern. Really it was just long enough to grafitti the walls and ceiling in the girls' bathroom. MEEN Girls were here! Senior Walk 2005, Bitches!! Enough of that.
So we peaced out and went to Loose Change. This was our 6th stop of the adventure. There was a strange old black man jamming out to the band. Of course he asked me to dance. All strange old black men love me. God, I'm on fire. I declined the offer. All the girls could not believe I could refuse such a hunk. Sike. Eww. Why do creepy old men do such things? So whatever, I drank some beer, signed some shirts, got a little loud, took some pictures... you know the drill. Asian Jayson and Karla were there. It appeared that we all seemed to follow the other around all night. Kinda funny cause you get to be like "Gah quit following me. Stalkers don't make friends."
Then we went to TD's. The Berkley Girls gave us a free pitcher of beer. Woot Woot again. I was way trashed in TD's. I kept stealing everyone's cups and writing "I Love Nicole" on them. Apparently I was full of myself last night... what else is new. Kidding. I'm only cocky and abbrasive on special occassions. Senior Walk was special. Therefore enter cocky and abbrasive. We vandalized the piss out of the bathroom here too of course. I think we actually did at every bar. However, I would forget I had a Sharpie and instead I would just sit and makeout with my drink. Because hey, who wants to write on walls when you can make out with alcohol? By this time I decided I needed dinner #2. So we hauled back to Peppino's. When my number was called, I happily pranced in to retrieve my eats. I then went to get some napkins since I can be quite a disaster.... and god, was I one... so as I am pulling for the napkins, I tilt my plate; thus causing one of my slices of pizza to fall to the ground and the other one to run smack into the middle of my wayhot SW shirt. Nooooo!! I looked puzzlingly at the pizza on the floor for a few seconds, stuck out my bottom lip, grabbed it and ran outside. I had cheese stuck to the front of my shirt and grease dripping down me. How sad. And how stupid! I was so embarassed. I wouldn't look up. I just picked the melted cheese off of my shirt and made a frowny face and grunted with every cheese chunk I pulled off and slung to the ground. We ate the floor pizza. Stephanie is alive, so it was okay. I guess. However I had a miserable pizza grease stain on the middle of my shirt for the remainder of the night. Megan stole a sign that said "Caution Do Not Enter." I strategically held it over my miserable grease clot while I pranced down the street back to Overtime. I didn't really care at that point though, so I proudly displayed my grease. Megan wrote on my shirt explaining that Tina did it and also that it was the pizza that was stuuupid... not Nicole. When in all actuality, it was in fact Nicole that was completely to blame for the horrid stain. Idiot. Me,Megan and Joe stayed at Overtime for the rest of the night. Drinking, making fun of idiot girls trying to dance. God, they were horrible... and you know, just being glad that we had each other to sit with and rag on others.
All in all, Senior Walk 2005 was a success. I really do have the best friends. I love all of you so much and I am glad I can participate in drunken festivities with all of you... a BIG Woot Woot for Senior Walk!!

So last night was karaoke. duh. We've established that we love our Tuesdays. This Tuesday was a little different however. First, I got to spend so much time with Emily. She hasn't been able to go out a lot this semester (Erin also) because both have been student teaching. It was so wonderful to have Emily sitting across the table from me, giving me the good advice that I miss so much. She keeps my head on straight. I am so proud of you, Emily. You are so amazing and I love you more than I think I know how to tell you.
Sorry, sappy... its all this graduation shit that is making me a complete mushpot. really. Mushpot. Whatever. So, Emily bought us this crazy drink called the "Mind Eraser." I would like to take this opportunity to insert an IM composed by my long lost Anna:

Anna: most sensible people when they see a drink called a mind eraser: "Hm, I should probably stay away from that."
Auto response from Neecole228: i am not responsible for my actions last night. i had a drink called a mind eraser.
Anna: Nicole Cononie when encountering a drink called a mind eraser: "Give me 4."
Anna: i miss you

And by the way, it does erase your mind -- actually it just erases your ability to control any given action that you would otherwise not do. For instance: sing on stage 3 times willingly. One time with Megan and Michael - well, more so with Michael because Megan got all emotional and had to run away, leaving me with a microphone screaming "Lets get naked! Take off your top Megan, where the hell are you?! I need you! NOW" And I sing so well. Ha. Then I sang again with those two and like really, I just cried on stage for most of it -- we sang "Time of your Life" by Greenday. Holyshit. Talk about being an emotional basketcase. Me, Megan and Emily just stood up there and hugged while Michael sang pretty much. I still held on to the other microphone, but I just got tears on it. I kept my sunglasses on - like they made me invisible or something.
Then I don't remember what else happend, but I ate Beezers and it was the shit and then I passed out. I woke up in my cool Hot 98.1 t-shirt and some camo boxers. Damn I am one sexy beast.