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.

Since Valentine's Day is meant to be spent with the one you love, and I prefer to do things in excess... I chose to spend it with the ONES I love. Or at least a few of them... orrrr the craziest of them. Yeah that's it. For not just only V-day, but V-weekend. Oooh, sounds dirty. I like it.

And, not that I need an excuse, but this made for a really good excuse to party my face off.

So Laura and I started scouring the interwebs looking for cabins in the mountains a few weeks into the New Year. Because mountains are pretty. Then we realized that we don't really live near mountains. Then we realized we don't really give a shit what's near the cabin, we just want to be in one together. Then we realized that we kinda lied about not caring what was near the cabin, because there was now one crucial factor that NEEDED to be part of Cabin Weekend Extravaganza. It needed more than just a cabin. It needed to be a cabin with a mother.effing hot tub.

For a moment's time, we considered the sketchy rental home with a trampoline, but when it came down to it, a hot tub was necessary. Perhaps another holiday will be spent on a trampoline...

So we found a skeezy cabin on a dirty lake in the middle of South Carolina. With a frickin hot tub. Fist pump.

And then Joe & Laura, Brudder Michael, and Dave and me piled into our cars and met in the middle of SC in our little lake cabin with the hot tub.

Laura and I busted into a spontaneous dance party within 7 minutes of being in the cabin together. After we filled up our red Solo cups with wine... and ice, of course. Classy, right?

What's so awesome, is that when we all get together, it's like we never missed a beat. We just pick up right where we left off... which was obviously in a dirty college apartment.

After a few hours of stuffing our faces, sloshing our drinks, and hugging all over each other, the 4 of them suddenly decided I needed to leave. Whaaat?! They were all like, "Nicole. Go downstairs to the Time Out Room*. Now." I didn't understand. But apparently they had conjured up some kind of fantastic surprise and therefore I needed to get my wine-loving ass downstairs. Hmph.

So they banished me. To the Time Out Room. All alone. For like 20 minutes! But they at least gave me part of my surprise to entertain myself with while hanging out in aforementioned creepy room of doom - they gave me a WAND! A Pretty Princess fairy wand. That lit up! Like a freaking rave, nonetheless. So I just swirled that around while I sat on the bed. Then I got bored and stood in the creepy step-dad corner for a bit, which gave me the heebie-jeebies, so I sat back down on the futon-bed and took a picture of my face and twirled my wand some more until Laura came to get me.

With a blindfold!

Ugh. Blindfolds.

So! She pushed me up the stairs, and took the blindfold off... momentarily. I opened my eyes to see a bunch of cute (read: PINK) cupcakes sitting on the counter, surrounded by 4 of my most favorite people in the world; so obviously they were like the best cupcakes ever.

Then they turned me around. To see the surprise. THE SURPRISE. Do you know what the surprise was?! A PINATA! My very own first pinata ever! 27 years old and never had a pinata! Let alone a frackin' surprise pinata! In the shape of a CROWN! That was pink and purple and said PRINCESS! Oh dear lord, do I have some amazing friends or what?!

So remember how I mentioned that they only momentarily allowed me to take off the blindfold? Yeah. That's why. So, back on the blindfold went. Husband spun me around and handed me a pool stick. Does anyone else see the potential for disaster here? Already clumsy girl, now tipsy and blindfolded, has been given a stick to swing into mid-air in hopes of beating the shit out of a cardboard crown hanging from the ceiling in a rented cabin on a dirty lake in the middle of South Cack. ::Shaking head::

I swung the shit outta that stick, too, let me tell ya. But I kept stabbing myself in the boob somehow. Meh? After a while of watching me fail miserably at knocking crap out of the pinata, they had mercy on me and let me take off the blindfold. I beat the hell out of that thing! And finally, all the goodies came flying out.

And can I please take this moment to say that Joe and Laura should be in charge of stuffing every pinata in the universe, because I'm pretty sure they put the best shit ever into mine. Oh? You want to know what they put in my pinata o' happy? Well okay, since you asked nicely:
1. Pixie Stix
2. 1 giant Slim Jim (that contorted into a ready-to-wear headband shape)
3. Ring Pops
4. Hershey Kisses
5. Glow Sticks
6. Monster Truck Stickers!!
7. Mini Bottles
8. 1 Cadburry Egg (that no one got to enjoy because Husband flushed it down the toilet!?!)
9. Pirate Eye Patches

Awesome. I dumped it all into my lap and played with it. Like a 5 year old.

Then it was hot tub time. And you know the one thing you need to make your hot tub time complete? Pasta Salad. And actually what I mean by that is that pasta salad is the one thing in the world you definitely do not need in a hot tub. Because when you try to eat it, or you know, feed it to Laura with a tiny plastic fork and a pirate eye patch over your eye and a plastic solo cup of wine hanging out of your mouth, there's like a 100% chance that you will dump that shit all in your hot tub on the back porch of your rented lake house on the dirty lake. Trust me.

So after our skin got pruney and we ran out of drinks, and dumped half the water out of the hot tub from sloshing around like idiots, we got out. And put on our Snuggies. And slept in our little creepy beds. And washed, rinsed and repeat the next day. (Well, that's not entirely true... we weren't exactly the cleanest of humans that weekend... but we at least did the "repeat" phase, sans pinata. And pasta salad.)

And really, there's only one way to sum up the entire Cabin Weekend Extravaganza. And it can't be done with words. Oh no. It can only be done with a picture. One perfect picture of debauchery, as perfectly displayed by Laura:

And that, my friends, is how you do a Cabin Weekend Extravaganza.

*Time Out Room: Creepy small "bedroom" at bottom of stairs with a futon and wood-paneled walls. Only one small window very close to the ceiling to ensure no escape possible. Also equipped with strange cubby area, likely used by a step-father to watch a small child sleep.

An accidental tradition has started springing up around this time every year: getting all shitfaced on a Tuesday when Laura's on Thanksgiving Break from school and therefore back in Charleston with nothing to do but get shitfaced on a Tuesday.

If you recall, I wrote a little post about Ladies' Night two years ago. While there were no stripper interactions this time, the premise was still the same - Laura was in town, which equates to "get your ass back into college-mode because you're about to act like a lunatic all night." For those of you that don't know Laura, please go "friend" my ass on Facebook (or better yet, just go "friend" her ass, or just her, whatever...) so you can watch her in action. And by "in action," I mean, watch her fail miserably as she tries to untangle herself from the briars that latched onto her and how all of her friends stand by to watch and laugh instead of actually help. We love you. :)

So as I was saying, Laura was in town. Which means I have a lot to live up to here. I took her strip club virginity a few years ago, so obviously I have to continue to offer wild entertainment. It's kinda like trying to continue to impress the man that you've been on a few dates with - you don't want him to ever think you're boring. Laura is totally *that* date, for me.

We began our evening at Bucca's - Husband, Billy, Laura, and I sat in our favorite corner booth and ordered a shit ton of wings and shoved them in our faces in between chugging our beers. By 7:00 I had a buzz. Win. Of course one of the first topics at hand was "where is the night going to take us?" The obvious answer: Strip club. So, we decide that we should prepare. At this point, the probability of ending up there was pretty much 100%. (Don't you judge us.)

We didn't want to have to use the strip club ATM because they charge you like a $13 ATM fee, or some kind of bullshit, and of course the ATM only spits out twenties, so you have to then go to the bar to get singles, but instead of singles they give you $2 bills, which means you are essentially paying double for each time you go to the stage and that's just ridiculous and we weren't going to stand for that crap. And then when you have left-over $2 bills and you have to use them somewhere normal in society, people totally look at you with their "judging eyes" and assume that either (a) you are a stripper or (b) you were entertained by one. SO. Our preparation technique? Go to Bi-Lo, buy one ridiculous item and get a shit ton of cash back in one-dollar bills. It's not even 8:00 PM when we bust in Bi-Lo like a bunch of heathens on a mission. I opted to purchase a trashy magazine. The cashier gave me an attitude and was like "are you seriously only buying a magazine?!" I was like "Ummm yesssss. I need cash back. Duh." I was too embarrassed to get more than 10 ones, so I got 10 ones, 2 fives, and a twenty. Laura also opted for the trashy magazine route, but incorporated a pack of gum as well. Smarty pants.

So, after our Bi-Lo excursion, we went to Wild Wing where Amanda and Rachel met up with us. Yay, friends. The chemistry was apparently right because we all got super goofy and hilarious at this point. There was no real rhyme or reason to any of our antics. Basically a really good analogy for us is one of those cartoon tornadoes with arms & legs all flying out of the sides. You have no idea where the shit storm is going to go, you just know it's going to be an entertaining ride.

So remember how I was telling you about how Laura got stuck in the briars? Well that happened a few weeks ago when my old college crew got together for a football game (or really just an excuse to sit outside all day and pound cheap beer and pretend to still be in college. Whatever, I like to relive my glory days, as often as possible. I'm not sorry.) Well, at this particular tailgate, my brudder Michael was there. And let me tell you people, brudder is funny. As shit. Seriously. For whatever reason, his particular "saying" of the day was "jeet.da.beet.dur.dah....heee heee." Think Michael Jackson, people. You know, the beatbox-ish noises followed by the squeals? Yep, that's it. Brudder was all about it. He gets on these tangents and keeps a little phrase for a month or so and then moves on to the next hilarious compilation of words to play out. Well, obviously jeet.da.beet.dur.dah caught on. A lot. Like, Laura & I said it 200 times that day. And we may or may not have drove everyone crazy in the process. It was wildly entertaining for us... so much so that we continued our jeet.da.beet.dur.dah-ing during her Charleston visit. On a Tuesday. In a Wild Wing. at 9:00 PM with very few people in the place. And we may or may not have screamed this at the top of our lungs. And Laura may or may not have shoved her foot up in the air above her head while sitting in the booth while screaming jeet.da.beet.dur.dah.

(I totally should have written a blog like a good blogger would have about the Clemson Reunion weekend because then this blog would probably be even funnier, but I didn't because I suck and I'm sorry.)

Somehow then the conversation turned to Lady Gaga. Laura was pretty much obsessed with her new song, "Bad Romance," so she was pretty much singing it all night. But as Laura said she was "faking sucking" while singing it. Yeah, that's what she said. Totally. See, Laura actually can sing really REALLY well, but to not look like a total weirdo snob, she tends to refrain from seriously serenading us on a regular basis, so instead she opts to "fake suck" her singing abilities... which actually can make for a pretty hysterical rendition of Lady Gaga. What is it with us and singers who just grunt? "Jeet.da.beet.dur.dah." was soon replaced with "Rah ra ROMA maa." A very throaty, growly, Sharkira-esque "Rah ra ROMA maa," mind you.

And then the conversation turned disgusting... as in, I'm having a hard time actually typing this because it's so offensive. Basically, we all nodded in agreement that butt holes look like balloon knots. Little black balloon knots. Ugh. Gross. Now I have to take a shower. Moving on. Quickly.

And then, the most glorious thing happened. Laura was building her usual cryptic toothpick message... let me give you some background: this one time, we were at another Wild Wing, and our server was really bad, and she never checked on us or brought us any drinks and I'm sure it had nothing to do with the fact that that week our particular phrase of choice was "BIIIRTTTTHHHHDAAAAYYY" and so we got real mad. And Laura decided to take action to let her know just how mad we were. So mad that she left a little message for our server made out of toothpicks. That may or may not have spelled "fuck our server." (You can read about that shit show here.) Ahh, another tradition: toothpick messages. So, on this Wild Wing evening, it only seemed fitting for Laura to make more little messages for us. She was kinda in her own little world, dumping toothpicks all over the table, snapping them in half and arranging them ever so delicately on the dirty Wild Wing table, when suddenly, we really wanted to hear Laura beatbox. She's surprisingly good at this, I'll have you know. So we were all like "Hey Laura? Beatbox! Now!" And without hesitation, she took a deep breath, formed her mouth in the perfect beatbox preparation pucker, and let out a giant "ppppfftt tahhh pah teeee."

And then, the funniest thing in the world happened and none of us saw it coming...

Laura apparently collected a ton of air with that giant breath she took pre-beatbox. So uh, what comes in must go out?? And yeah, when she went to let out the perfect beginning to the perfect beatbox, all of that sucked-in air came wooshing out. With tremendous beatbox force.

Right on top of her toothpick masterpiece.

It was a fucking toothpick tornado. The most perfectly-time, unsuspecting fucking toothpick tornado ever to be seen.

I'm fairly certain I've never laughed that hard. Especially at something I didn't expect. All I wanted was to hear Laura whip out some sweet beatbox beats, maybe even Lady Gaga beatbox beats, but instead, I was selected to be on of the chosen few to ever be so lucky to witness the best accidental toothpick tornado in history.

Laura gathered herself and quickly resumed toothpick construction. Her masterpiece again showcased the general consensus of the events of the evening. Her masterpiece was artfully crafted to display the most perfect description ever:

Toothpick Fail.

And that's the time we got all shitfaced on a Tuesday when Laura was on Thanksgiving Break from school and therefore back in Charleston with nothing to do but get shitfaced on a Tuesday.

Husband and I traveled to Greenwood, SC last weekend to see our friends Emily & Michael that recently moved there. [We miss them dearly and secretly hope they come back to Charleston. Immediately.]

On our 3 hour trek to what seemed to be the middle of nowhere, we got a little stir crazy. GPS took us through some Podunk town called Saluda. The only thing is Saluda was a rape van...
As soon as Husband and I saw the rape van parked in someone's front yard with a big "for sale" sign stuck to the front windown, we both, in unison, proclaimed "Hey, we could buy that rape van!" Then we looked at each other, furrowed our brows and grunted. Does that mean we have to buy it then??

So after driving through miles of nothing, we eventually were spit out into the middle of Greenwood. Who knew? We got the grand tour of their new home and then they left. Michael the denist got called in to work for a few minutes, so they both had to leave as soon as we got in. We didn't mind... there was beer in the fridge. So Husband and I crack open some beers and head to the back porch. Of course I had to have a coozie for my beer... it's only right. I gave them away as favors at my own wedding for Christ's sake. I have to have a coozie. So I take it upon myself to rummage through every drawer in the kitchen in search of the perfect coozie. And wouldn't you know it? They actually have a whole drawer devoted to coozies. Hooray! So I rummage... and I dig all the way to the back because I could see a bottle coozie in hot pink. Oh that shit is MINE. So I grab it, and cock my head at it because it actually reads:

Now this coozie is right up my ally! Emily hadn't even used it though! There was still a little piece of styrofoam inside. I figured she wouldn't mind if I broke it in for her. I told Husband it was probably a gag gift from someone because that just wasn't an Emily-type of coozie [read: Emily is classy. Me, not so much.]

They arrived back home in no time and came to find us enjoying their beer on their back porch. Hey, you don't have to tell us twice to make ourselves at home.

I proudly showed Emily the ridiculous coozie I pulled from her coozie drawer and she doubled over in hysterical laughter. Whaaaat??

"I BOUGHT THAT FOR YOU!!!" Bahahahahaha!!!

Oh.my.god. I cracked up. So basically, I dug through her 25+ coozies, scouted out the most ridiculously tacky one I could find, claimed it as my own and then I was told it was actually purchased for me because I'm THAT TACKY. Ha. And how appropriate is it that I would find the dumbest coozie in the whole bunch.

I used that tacky shit all over town and proudly displayed my hot pink beer holder to everyone who would glance my way.

Don't hate me because I'm beautiful, hate me because your boyfriend thinks so!

Sometimes I don't even know how much I miss my girls until I actually get to spend time with them. Holy crap.
So Emily planned a girls' night for herself, Erin and me. We met in Columbia since that was the half-way point for all of us. We stayed on Gervais Street which was perfect, because we were able to bumble up and down the one little road we were on without getting too lost. And BTW, big thanks to DeAnne who sent me a ton of ideas for what to do while in town. I actually printed her email and carried it around like it was gospel and referred to it often to figure out where the hell the next bar was.
We met around lunch time and headed over to Carolina Ale House... where we appropriately started drinking. And can I just seriously say how much I love these girls?! It hasn't been just the 3 of us since college, which was at least 4 years ago, but when we get together, it's like we never missed a beat. You can't put a price on that.
We ended up buzzed and sleepy, so luckily we were able to stop in the Starbucks that was right across the street from our hotel. Mmmm coffee. Of course, as you might know, coffee makes me sweat like a maniac. But only my feet. I dunno. So I had to sit next to the AC with my shoes off for a good hour before I could even think of getting ready.
We were doing sushi at SakeTumi for dinner. Nom nom nom. I introduced the girls to the new best drink: raspberry vodka and diet. I prefer black cherry vodka, but most bars don't have it; raspberries are the next best thing. My only regret was wearing my stupid Spanx. Yes, I have a Spanx. I'm pretty sure almost every woman I know has one. But my teeny dress required me to hike the Spanx up as high as possible so I kept kinda losing feeling in my thighs. Doh.
We went over to this bar called Blue after dinner. It really is blue. Like, everything. The walls, the bar... the people in the bar. This lady sat down next to me and was trying to look sexy, but little did she know that the blue lights from under the bar were shining directly onto her face which made her look more like an Ax-murdered than a cougar. (Insert squeaky knife/ thriller movie music here) So, you'd think that the slew of diamonds strewn about all of our left hands would encourage men not to talk to us, right? Pshh wrong. This drunk ass comes stumbling over and he's all like "Heeeeey ladies, I'm Brandon." I was like "Hi Brandon. We're married." Brandon was like "Well that's perfect because I've been getting shot down by women all day! You won't do that since you're all taken." WTF. That did not go as planned. So Brandon asks us our names: Nikki. Lee. and Tabitha. Yes, Tabitha. We had a conversation earlier in the day about how that is pretty much the worst name ever, and so when Emily tried to introduce herself as Tabitha, or Tabby for short of course, she literally couldn't speak because she was laughing so hard. I guess Brandon likes girls named Tabitha because he bought us a shot. But his shot was not nearly as delicious as the Pineapple Upside Down Cake shot that we had several minutes prior. He eventually left us alone. But then, there were these 3 idiots behind Emily that were trying to get our attention, so every time I would look at Emily, they would like hang over the bar and flail their arms like they were in some Montel Jordon music video from the '90s. Ugh. Men.
We headed over to Liberty Tap Room after that and got all sweaty on the dance floor. Some dude was kind of dancing with me, and I wanted to be an asshole, so I held up my beer to proudly display my Clemson koozie that encased it. It was a total backfire though because the guy was just like, "What? I don't care. I'm from VA Tech." I'm a moron.
We got our fill of dancing and even learned some new Electric Slide rendition and headed back to our hotel which was conveniently right next door. I came prepared with White Cheddar Cheez-Its and Wheat Thins, so we had plenty of good drunk food to soak up all our vodka, sake, beer and pineapple shots. Mmmm.
We had brunch at Liberty (the same place we shook our asses the night before) before we left to go back home. Emily and I attempted a Bloody Mary but failed miserably. I want to like them so bad! I'm fully prepared to teach myself. I have a bottle of Zing Zang in the pantry at home and I'm picking up some Pepper Vodka after work today. The next free Saturday morning I have will be spent learning how to enjoy Bloody Mary drinks.
I had such a freaking blast with those girls. Ohmygah. I seriously could not ask for two better best friends because holy crap, do we know how to have a good time. Mmmm hugs.

friday night was really great because we got to hang out with emily and michael, whom of which i miss dearly. we were at tommy condons with the spawar boys and this crazy kilt-wearing band that had a really big tamborine-like drum with its own microphone. well, the kilt band produced music fit for dancing... dancing for those 40 and older and with no talent, that is. well, this one fat couple started spinning each other around, and we were at the table closest to the twirling, so of course we could do nothing but watch. emily turns to me, and in all seriousness, asks "is that an octopus shirt or a pineapple shirt?" i then studied the blue and white printed shirt intently for a solid 30 seconds before responding with my answer, "both."
okay seriously, it was like one of those magic eye pictures where if you look at it one way its some creepy old witch lady and turn it the other way and it's a cactus. i swear this man had pineapples and octopi all over his wretched shirt. i actually wrote this conversation down on my receipt so i would be sure to remember its funniness in the morning.
we then decided that it was time for gene's; we were in dire need of some connect four and tic-tac-toe. apparently, if all else fails in life, i can be the world champion connect four player, because for some reason, i'm really good. that was at least established after several rounds of drinkies; so you know, who really knows if i'm good. well tic-tac-toe became a favorite around the table, too. emily and michael were playing for a long time and started to seriously strategize for the win against each other. here is a detailed picture and description of the most ridiculously humorous tic-tac-toe play in all of history:

i don't know whose idea it was to put children's games in a bar, but it was the most fucking ingenius idea ever. ever. ever. if i could buy stock in gene's bar, i would. so really, seven grown people sat around a table on a friday night and paid more attention to who was going to win a board game than what drink they should try next. maybe they did this so people wouldn't get as wasted, because if you have to pay attention to something, like winning a serious game of connect four, then you are less inclined to get so shitfaced that you pass out on your little red playing pieces. huh, huh? yeah, that's logic right there. gene knew what he was doing.

so we finally got kicked out of the bar and came home. dave and i think its possible that we were naked before we got in the door (not because we wanted to have the sex. gah. but because we absolutely hate to smell like smoke). so our clothing was strewn about the front door area, we took a shower and decided we needed some late night discovery channel. well, we fell asleep, for 3 damn hours, scrunched up on our unconfortable couch... gross. so we got up at 6 am and ran to the bedroom and passed out for 3 more hours. we were still drunk most of the day saturday. it was stellar.

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.

yay, i got to see what's left of the clemson gang last night. i haven't seen erin and joe since i moved over a month ago - sad, man. it was so weird being back in clemson. i definitely felt like i had "outgrown" it -- that, or i am just excited and happy to be in charleston, so i don't necessarily miss "clemson." i do, however, miss me some erin and joe like whoa.
we are all such light weights now. it's laughable. joe and i were drunk off the fabulous champagne spritzers i introduced you people to a few blogs ago by 6:00...in the afternoon. lord.
we got to run into 40 Friend Zach and Mills and Snider, and that always equals a good time. Zach chose to bite instead of hug, however, so the side of my face and my shoulder blade are slightly bruised... damnit, Zach.
of course, we had to make the signature waffle house trip at the end of our evening. joe was particularly hungry and opted to order two meals. my arteries hurt just thinking about the grease. eww.
so yeah, yay for having amazing friends. i hope you know how much you mean to me. and really, you know you have fabulous friendships when you can miss a whole month and be able to go back to the way things always were without ever missing a beat. i love you maniacs.

so its about that time in our lives that we are getting engaged and married or at least planning for it all. some of my friends have gorgeous rings and bridal magazines from floor to ceiling. and i have to admit that i'm definitely guilty of daydreaming about the idea of marriage and having a wedding.
my oldest friend, sheena, got married last night. (yay and congrats!) i've known her for 18 years. we grew up together. even though we went to rival colleges (ewww, usc, gross. ha) we still managed to stay friends. our mothers consider one another to be sisters, and our families get along so well. sheena looked so beautiful, and gah, it made me cry to watch her walk down the isle. i'm so happy for you, sheena.
the reception was so much damn fun! i never realize how much i miss my old high school friends until i see them again. we're so lucky that we still get to see each other and that when we do see each other, its for wonderful occasions, like sheena and luke's wedding. i mean, yay! way way yay.
the most eventful moment of the night was the bouquet toss... because i caught it! YES! while dave did not catch the garter, i will still giddy about my fabulous flower catching skills. matt mullinax actually caught the garter, so we danced together. reminded me of prom. definitely fun.
so yeah, wow. the girls are starting to get married and i just find that to be extremely exciting. so now, i'm gonna go float around the pool and continue my daydreaming...

About 4 years ago, I signed up to live in Lightsey I on campus with Emily and Brooke. We didn't know anyone else (or like anyone enough) to have a 4th roommate. Somehow someone's mom worked with someone's dad and we found out about this girl named Erin. I would like to take this opportunity to thank whomever it was that knew the other person that made it possible for Erin to become my roommate, because not only did you become the best roommate ever, you have become my absolute best friend. It seemed like we clicked immediately from the start -- even though I was the overly bold loud one and you were the adorable sweet southern one. Who knew? I am so very thankful that I have you in my life. You have helped me through so much that I'm not really sure how to thank you for it all. And you've never judged me -- whether I was demonstrating compromising positions on the magic carpet, walking around in my crab pants screaming about the trash, standing in tootie water up to my ankles with you, requesting a toast fairy on mornings I couldn't quite get sober, whooooping across the apartment, spending too much money at target, bouncing big balls around walmart, leaving notes about our trashy apartment, or just sitting in my underwear whining about the day's problems, you've always listened, always helped and always been so sincere. I love you. Thank you for being you. My life is better because I have you in it. Happy Birthday, Erin.

Happy Birthday to ME! Yay. Today is my 23rd birthday and everyone has been so very sweet! Thank you all so much for the awesome phone calls, facebook messages, text messages, IMs, and bathroom mirror signs! I have the most amazing friends. And remember to tell Mr. Matt Mullinax happy birthday too! February 28th is where it's at, man.

Also, please note that today is Fat Tuesday and Karaoke. Holy crap. Get ready for a wild night!

Remember the blog about how we got pulled over by the lady cop and Wiggins swore he had seen her titties and he also swore that we had emergency tampons in the first aid kit? Well, Erin and Wiggins wrote on each others' walls on facebook and I found the comments to be so amusing that I had to share them with the rest of you. Without further ado, here are the funny wall posts:

Erin: If the need of emergency tampons arises, contact your nearest wiggins.
Wiggins: If you are ever riding with E-Bizzle on a late night and get pulled over you have one of two options of getting out of it: A- start yelling to your friendly passengers that you know the cop and you have seen her tits before, or B- reach into the handy dandy first aid kit, which is located in the very, very back of the four runner where you were forced to ride, pull out a tampon and wave it aggressively at the officer. option A is a def. win, B sounds good though!

In other news, I bought an Ipod. Nano. It's tiny and it pretty much really pisses me off. I have no idea how to work the thing. I have songs on it... in no particular order, which might actually frustrate me more than having no songs on it at all. I'm such an impulsive shopper. Whatever. I will figure it out. Or, Dave will figure it out and teach me. Yeah, probably the latter of the two.

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.

This past weekend was Fall Break. [Insert joyous music here.] The maniac group of people that I associate with decided it was absolutely necessary to go play in the woods for this occasion. We actually decided like 2 months ago that we wanted to go camping, but it took that long to get a damn weekend that we all could. So we did. And I even made a soundtrack, featuring songs such as Black Betty, Free Bird, Take Me Home Tonight, King Of Wishful Thinking, Badd, and Yeah Toast! Just to name a few. (Yes, Yeah Toast is a song. You should download it. It's by Bob and Thom and it is the funniest shit you will ever hear. The End.)
So we ventured to the woods (i.e. Devil's Fork, with full bath facilites and concrete.) Whatever. We brought with us $84 worth of liquor, 6 cases of beer, a handle of moonshine and a cauldron full of sugary treats.
Keep in mind that the Camping Crew consisted of: Joe Long (the president of the drinkers), Nicole Cononie, Michael Cononie, David Kuhlman, Candle Fogle, Opie Gilbert, Erin Daniel and Corey Gibson. Aka: Raging Alcoholics. We only came back with 2 cases, a little bit of Evan Williams and some of the shine. Our activities consisted of drinking, eating, sleeping, wrestling, and falling out of chairs.
In that order.
We got there Friday night and before we even set up the tent, each of us had a drink in our hands in one of our very own personalized alcohol cups that came out of our specialized camping cooler all decorated by me. Yay. We brought like 50 hot dogs and tore into them the instant we even felt a slight buzz. Two at a time was the way to do it. So, we're all just chillin, listening to the Ready Set Camp Tunes, when we hear some rustling. It was Nibbles. Nibbles the Squirrel. Somehow, Nibbles became a recurring theme throughout the camping weekend. Anytime something happened, it was Nibbles' fault. Damnit Nibbles, you ate all the laffy taffy. Damnit, Nibbles, where'd you put moonshine. Quit dropping acorns and other forest debris onto our heads, Nibbles. And the such. You get it. We enjoy overdoing it, can't you tell? So basically our first night consisted of us sitting around a wimpy fire, cracking up and getting wasted.
Okay, so when Erin's gets tipsy, she also gets insanely amusing. The night before we left to go camping, her, Corey and myself went to Walmart to buy all the supplies. Apparently, giant balls are a staple within the camping world. Well, at least under our terms. Erin decided to do a dance with the giant ball. Our other ball was blue. We had one giant blue ball. Corey wouldn't let us get two blue balls. Ha. Yeah, so we sometimes revert to the perverted humor had by 14 year olds. Deal with it.
Drunkeness continued to rise, and things started to get funnier. You know the drill. Well, a bee decided to start harassing Dave. He is "highly allergic," as he so informed us. Instead of getting out of his chair or perhaps swatting at the insect, Dave chose to force his back as far back into the chair as possible, throw his arms into the air with his elbows back and his hands in fists close to his face and rock from side to side while grunting. The Bee Dance was born. Michael found this particularly funny and would do the Bee Dance whenever the mood struck him for the rest of the trip.
We all started eating boiled peanuts and I made some comment about how the peanuts tasted like the ocean. I was attempting to make the correlation that peanuts were indeed salty just as the ocean is. Michael found this a prime opportunity to make absolute fun of me. He was lile, "oooh it takes like the ocean; I wonder if I hold it to my ear I could hear the ocean too?!" And he put the peanut to his ear and cheered like he was a little 5 year old girl. Ass. It was funny though.
The next funny thing that happened, I am not quite certain as to the reasoning behind it, but suddenly Michael completely fell out of his chair. No one asked him to move. He just fell over. Must have been Nibbles. Well because I made so much fun of him and even required a picture to be taken, I too fell out of my chair the following night. I didn't land gracefully whatsoever, but I'll be damned if I didn't save my whole drink. That bitch was full and just one splash got away. That's alcoholism for you: when you will sacrifice your assbone to save your precious Evan and Coke. Mmmm.
We all drank ourselves retarded, probably from doing things like The Cononie Shake around the camp fire, gorging on marshmellows, making Joe faces, and harassing each other, and eventually packed into the tent. As you might recall, the same 8-person (*World's Largest Dutch Over, as we called it) tent. Luckily Opie and Candle brought an extra tent. We would have killed each other had all 8 of us slept in that thing. So okay, we're sleeping, and I woke up because Dave had completely taken over my pillow and was shaking. I looked at him, only to find him curled in a teeny ball with his knees tucked under his stomach, completely perpendicular to me, and completely on top of his sleepingbag. Dumbass. I was like, Dave! Get in your bag and move over! Jesus. It took me like 10 minutes to move his shivering ass around and get him into his designated sleeping sack. You're lucky you're so cute. Then, in a fit of rage while nightmaring, Corey does this strange snort, gasp, grunt noise followed by what would have been a long strand of obscenities had he anunciated in the least. I laughed. Erin had to pin him down and tell him to wake up. I laughed again. Just when we thought all was quiet in the tent, Michael starts... snoring. And I mean snoring. The boy is ungodly. So between Dave's weird positions, Corey's outbursts and Michael's unnecessary breathing, it's safe to say no one had a good night's sleep. Except for maybe Candle and Opie.
The next day, Dave was still shaking. You can bet he slept correctly that night. So, Corey and Opie decided to go on some exploration adventure. The rest of us stayed behind to sit around the fire pit and watch for Nibbles. Dave couldn't have gone anyway since he and Joe decided to tackle each other onto some rocks last night. Oh, the things alcohol makes you do. Well, another fine purchase from Walmart was wax lips. I dunno. Something just came over us and told us we needed waxy objects to bite on. Whatever. They were funny as hell. It also takes little to amuse us, however.
I decided that I was pretty gross and wanted to go take a shower. Well, when I got to the shower, I debated on the possibilty that I might actually feel grosser when I came out. So I at least tried. Well, behind curtain number one, I turned the shower on and tried to adjust the head... well, in that process, the whole thing came off the wall, flew into the other wall, leaving only a vicious stream of water spatting from where the shower head should have been. Oops. So I tried curtain number two. It was two for a reason -- there were two humongous daddy long legs looking at me from the wall; like face level. Ewwwww. I actually did ewwww at the spiders. And then I quickly left the foul shower facilities. I chose dirtiness over grossness.
Then I passed out for 4 hours. Others joined me -- Erin for an hour, Dave for 2, but I accidentally slept for the whole afternoon. Which meant all I had to do was wake up and drink. Yessss. I don't even mean to be smart - it just happens. Ha. In the process of my afternoon sleep (not nap) Erin, Joe and Michael went fishing. They didn't come back with any fish, but Candle did come back with a heap of walking, poking, and killing sticks. The size determined the intensity of the stick, mind you. Thanks for the weapons, Candle.
A game of Circle of Death was necessary around the camp fire that night. However, being the lazyasses we are, we chose to sit in a semi-circle of death and just pass the cards to each other and take the top card off. Lazy, but fun none the less. While playing the game of doom, I looked at Candle in all seriousness, gave her a concerned look, then proceeded to ask, "Candle, can you close your eyes?!" She looked at me puzzled. "Because I caaaaan't!" Momentarily, Candle thought there could actually be something wrong with me, then it occurred to her that I was simply drunk and couldn't close my eyes because it caused me to spin uncontrollably. I made Dave stay up with me until eye closing was possible.
We got up the next morning and drove home as fast as possible and ran to the nearest shower. I took 3 showers in one. Eww, camping. So I'd have to say the camping excursion was a success. Minor injuries were had, many drinks were consumed, and we even came up with a new dance move. Yay, camping.

Nothing is more important to me than the relationships I have with my friends. Especially my best friends. They are my world, my support system, my most precious treasures. Anytime an arguement happens between us, I break down. I honestly do not know how to live when things are not okay with my friends. Last night, I thought I had lost my two best friends, for different reasons, and really, I couldn't physically stand up. I need you two so much. I don't just want you in my lives, I need you. Megan is my left support beam and Joe is my right. Without one of you, I am borderline hysterical, without both of you, my heart breaks. I know you both know how much I love you. Please know that love will never change. Thank you both for impacting my life in such wonderful ways. And damnit, don't leave me. Ever. I'll kick your asses. And sorry I'm an idiot sometimes. Honestly though, you two are amazing. I love you, Megan. I love you, Joe.


and just on a side note, thank you, Andrew. So much. I really do think you are wonderful.

and while I am at it, I love you Emily, Erin, Candle, Michael (both Cononie and Snider), Dave, and Jayson. All of you offer such a wonderful friendship to me. Thank you. I hope each of you know that I love you. I smile knowing how much fun I always have when any of you are around. You make my days happy. I love it that I can be Nicole, real Nicole, and all of you accept me for that. It's an incredible feeling as well as a blessing. Yay. I am so thankful to have you in my life. I'm lucky to be surrounded with such great people.

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!

Downtown with Kevin and Nicole: doesn't it sound like it could be a talkshow or some crazy reality TV shit? It should be. We drink Woodchuck and have re-donk-ulous amounts of fun. And have random excursions with cops, huge ass football beasts, untamed water hydrants and drunken downtown mobs. I'd watch it if it came on TV....
so yeah... Kevin and I were downtown dates tonight - very fun! We got to talk and hang out more than we ever really have before, and I must admit, I'm a big fan of the Mr. Kevin Jennings. Everything was pretty normal for the downtown scene, except for the crazy cops! Gah. Go home, bitches. They were lookin' for something to do tonight obviously. So Officer Meyers (1) had on creepy black, fingers-cut-out-of-the-ends-type gloves on tonight; like the ones hardcore steroid-taking, iron-pumping meathead dudes wear, or also the kind of gloves that maniac bikers wear, and (2) the goof has braces. My theory is that he wanted to balance himself out and wear the gloves to take away from the silly fact that he is a middle-aged goofball with braces. Ha.
Then we decided we needed to explore the suburbs of Clemson to find our way back to highway 93. We almost could have possibly really gotten lost. But we didn't. Kevin got lucky on a couple of turns and we managed... to find ourselves on 93 with a crazy fire hydrant busted. No shit. And it was freakin HA-larious. We were all mid-seriousish convo and we both see this crazy burst of water drowning the earth and we swore it was also out to land directly on our car. Really, had we had the windows down, we would have be swimming all the way home. Then these crazy football ninjas almost ran into Kevin's car. I would have been more concerned had we not just been witnesses of the mammoth water spout in the middle of Clemson. I cracked up until we got to about Hardee's where I had to stop and breathe for a moment. And after a couple of rounds of Woodchuck and Bud, mammoth water spouts at 2:00 are about the funniest event life can offer.
So thank you, Kevin, for the way fun night; and also for being real with me and for looking out for me. I appreciate your honesty and I'm so thankful for your friendship. You definitely rock to the max.

I got to pretend I was famous Friday night. Somehow Michael was able to get a limo for us to take to Freedom Weekend. Do you know how cool I felt? It's rare for me to actually feel cool, and I so did Friday night. Me, Joe, Emily and Michael were all excited waiting for the limo to come get us from the apartment. I made some comment about how I was going to crack up if it was white with like gold hundred spokes or some shit -- low and behold, the bitch was white. no crazy rims though. Still made me laugh. Our limo driver was this crazy Brooklyn guy. Accent included. So we piled in the thing and got absolutely wasted. I finished an entire bottle of red wine, Emily had champagne, the boys had hard liquor - very very bad ass. On the way there, I would roll down the window just far enough for people to see my big tacky sunglasses. Then I would wave and blow kisses like I was some famous chick. Ha. We had to pick up Zach and I made Joe get out and go take a picture of me sticking my tacky head out of the window. Oh, I thought I was so cool. So yeah. We got the limo driver to park and let us keep drinking once we got to Freedom. But the only problem was that Joe and I really really had to pee. We had no idea where the potties were so we just started walking in the direction we were pointed in. Well like seriously, there were no bathrooms anywhere. And we couldn't hold it much longer... so we found this baseball field that had bathrooms -- and the bitches were locked!! So instead of peeing in the bathrooms we just had to pee next to them. At 6:30 in the afternoon... in broad daylight. Oh, the nonsense Joe Long and I get into. Too funny. So then I continued to roll down my window and wave to people once back in the limo -- I really confused a few bystanders. Everyone wanted me to be like 'Hey, I'm Katie Holmes. Want an autograph?" but my guess is that is somehow illegal. So I opted to throw myself back in my glass of wine and laugh about everything.
Finally we got kicked out of the limo so we were forced to go to the concert. Honestly, the limo was way more fun than actual Freedom Weekend. But I did get to see Matt Mullinax and hang out -- which was very cool. I'm always so glad to see Matt.
The limo we took back to Clemson was even cooler than the limo we took there -- this one was a black stretch Navigator. Pimp as hell. And we had Senn with us this time around. Crazy lights in the ceiling, bombass stereo system and even more huge than the first. We were so silly drunk and all I wanted to do was dance, but I ended up doing this goofy knee-knockin, pigeon-toeing, arm-flailing move that I've never done before but apparently thought looked really cool since I could see my reflection in the windows and the mirrors around the bottom. This in fact was not a cool move and I have asked Joe to make sure I never repeat that dance again. I also kept wanting to crawl around from the front to the back of the limo, so while I would attempt to move around, I'd be like "I'm sorry if you can see my downstairs," because I had on my teeny jean skirt that is basically worthless... unless my goal is to show my downstairs. So everyone probably got to see my underwear, but hey, at least I had them on... Ha... sorry if you saw my downstairs... that phrase alone cracks me up. So yeah, the limo stuff was definitely cool. First time I'd ever been in one, or two in one day for that matter. So I lost my limo V-card and I have to admit, it was worth it.