The Napkin Diaries

Yeah yeah, so I've been a MIA. You would be too if you rang in the New Year in the effing ER because someone decided to tackle you in the middle of the dance floor. In the middle of a really crowded bar. While you were wearing fucking 5 inch platform shoes.

Seriously.

I got knocked out on New Year's Eve. Like, black-out knock out. Scary, huh? Had to get some X-rays and a CT scan - luckily I just got the shit knocked out of me. No broken bones. Just a really bruised ass and a splitting headache. (Yay for pain killers though!)

Between that and some other not-niceness I've incurred lately from some not-nice people, I've been a bit under the radar lately. But it's time to come back out and play. And do it right, damnit.

And well, if you ask me, there's obviously only one way to get back in the game of all things ridiculous and fun. One Big. Gigantic. Obnoxious way... And that is:

Monster Trucks.

Dead.Serious.

Husband got a text from our friend Adrian that said, "Monster trucks? Next Friday?"
Husband showed me the text to me immediately.
My response? "That's asinine! ... Let's go!!"

So we totally bought sweet tickets to the Monster Truck show coming to Charleston next Friday. Oh dear sweet baby Jesus. Now THIS is going to be entertaining...

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.

I just wanted to post a quick note to say hello to the fun new bloggers that have started to follow my ramblings! I'm so excited that you have stumbled upon my page -here's hoping more continue to stumble.

This week has been crazy - I've planted 21 plants in my front yard. 19 of them were done all by myself [Husband dug 2 holes]. So now I'm exhausted and very very sore. But I have no time to worry about those things because my little brudder is in town all weekend!

I promise to come back next week with some entertaining debacles to blog about.

Happy Friday new & old friends!

Sometimes I click something online, which leads me to click somewhere else which occassionally leads me to awesomeness.
That happened today. In my stumbling fit, I came across return address labels. Ohmygah, all I want to do is order some of these and send everyone I know a card that just says "don't you love my cute labels?!"

For a good 20 years of my life I was scared to death of guns. Like, I couldn't be in a room with one. They made my heart pound. When I was about 21 I finally sat down next to one and held it. Then I placed it neatly back into its little bag and didn't look at another one for a couple of years. Gave me the heebie jeebies.

Well Dave has since gotten me more familiar with them. And it just so happens that I've been raging mad for the past few weeks so the unanimous decision was for me to learn how to finally shoot one of these bastards. Wait, I mean, learn to shoot a gun. Not shoot a person.
And if you care to know why I'm so pissed off these days it's because I'm completely sick of men treating me with complete disrespect because they think they are "older and wiser" than me. Wow, I don't know how much longer I can bite my tongue but if one more person makes a comment about how getting married young is a terrible decision or decides they are going to "shoo" they're hands at me and tell me to "go do my little HR stuff" I'll probably pull my hair out. I mean, did people never learn the phrase "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all?" Ugh.

So we went to the gun range. I picked up a 9 MM, fumbled around with the bullets, which by the way, is the hardest part about guns - trying to get them into the little holder is extremely difficult, and then I made sure my giant ear headphones were on and my cool yellow protective eyewear were on my face right and then I aimed at the paper target and freakin pulled the trigger.

I shook. It was CRAZY! Like, I'll never forget that moment in my life. I fired the gun and I managed to hit the paper target guy that I had strung up. I put the gun down and waited for my hands to stop shaking and then I decided that I liked it. So I tried again. And again and again and again. I realized that I couldn't keep my eyes open when I was shooting because it was so damn loud. So I practiced trying to keep my eyes open and I tried out different ways to stand and I basically thought I was a total bad ass.

After getting more comfortable with the freaking weapon that I was holding, I remembered just how mad I'd been for the past few weeks and took aim at the target's face. I shot a round of bullets and brought the target back to me to inspect my damage. Yeah, hi, I shot a line of 4-5 bullets in straight vertical line down the guy's face. Apparently I'm a good shot, so we've learned. My catch phrase of the day: I'll shoot you in the face!! And my husband's response: I should have known she'd be good at this... she's Italian.

So needless to say, I'm glad I got over my fear of guns. I'm pretty sure it's the best form of stress relief I've found. Visiting the shooting range is like my new favorite thing. Oh, and PS: they have pink guns. I'm not even kidding.

I got a new car!!!
So the old Cellie is finally retired. She was so good to me. And damn we had some fun in that little red celica. Today mom and I went to Carmax because we had a celica transferred from VA and it had arrived. When we walked outside to see it, I really almost fell over. It's gorgeous. She is midnight blue, GTS, sunroof, spoiler, charcoal leather interior, 2000, hot alloy wheels, bangin system (that is going to bang so much harder because my wonderful Dustin is giving me his 10 and his amp. I insisted I take him to dinner - so I will buy him sushi and he will give me the hotass noise makers), and of course the keyless entry that beeps at me to let me know she's unlocking. Ohmygah I am so in love with this car. My parents are so great. And great doesn't really even do them justice - they are amazing. I love them so much, and not just because they bought me a badass car that makes me look way hot. They bought it for me for graduation and told me that I deserve it and it made me feel so good. Wow. I am too excited for words!

Woo woo! I just learned that I can make my "comments" section open to anyone! That means all of you can post your comments on my entries! But if you are mean, I don't want to hear it. Gah. Don't be mean. So, blog is the anit-study. Really. My notes are in front of me and I'm just like whatthefuckever. Tomorrow is my last exam as an undergrad. Madness. So listen to my bonehead move of the evening: I wanted to make coffee, since I began studying tonight at 11:00 for my 9 am exam...genius. Well, I filled the pot with water, dumped it in and turned it on. However, I sort of left out the key ingredient in coffee -- coffee. Yep, didn't put any in the little filter place. Moron.
Tomorrow is frickin' Cinco de Mayo. Hi, my name is DRUNK. Its gonna be good.
So, I have an interview Monday with the SC Dept. of Mental Health! A REAL job! I am interviewing for the position of theraputic assistant. I'm really excited. I would love love LOVE to take this job. I hope it works out. Okay fine, I'll go study. I already got a B though this semester, which seriously screws up the 4.0 I was shooting for. Gah. I guess I haven't really done work though this year in terms of school - the only work I've done has been beer research. Yeah. Beer Reseach.

So yeah, I got bored with the old diary; hence this new and fabulous thing. You can imagine how insanely addicted I am going to become since I can change colors and add pictures and do all kinds of fun things! I can hardly wait. Fret not however, you avid readers of the old diary can still access the entries via the handy dandy clicky place over there to your right. Woot Woot.
So welcome to Life as I Know It. Or at Least as I Wrote it. I plan to continue to humor you and allow into all the crazy corners of my brain. Let the fun continue.