The Napkin Diaries

Today I have Senioritis.

For those of you unaware of the symptoms of Senioritis, it goes something like this:

I don’t feel like doing shit.

Senioritis didn’t really hit me too hard in high school, mostly because I was just a teenager with a hellacious schedule of cheerleading, boys, and homework. Not necessarily in that order. It was demanding, let me tell you. It wasn’t until college that my Senioritis became more prominent. My prior schedule, now had new priorities: DRINKING, boys, and homework. Totally in that order. It was demanding, let me tell you. Let me also tell you that I really really enjoyed 2/3 of my schedule. Mmmmm, college…

I started seriously utilizing my maximum number of absences allowed per class during my senior year. And I would conveniently schedule them in a row. And there was no pre-requisites for taking these days off. Usually I’d wake up and be like “Oh today is totally a Personal Day,” (i.e. I ain’t doin’ SHIT). Well, sometimes the pre-req was that I drank the day/night before or was planning to drink during said Personal Day and therefore needed ample time to recover and/or prepare.

So, I have Senioritis today. But why? You ask. Because I don’t want to do anything. I don't care that I haven't been an undergrad in 4 years. I have Senioritis today, damnit.

I want to sit in a grungy apartment with my favorite people and fart around and do nothing but stir up trouble, or play Nintendo, or wear my crab pants (they totally have little crabs on them and I wore them all the time in college. I mean, they were pajama shorts, but I still wore them to take out the trash, and to hit on boys ( this one time I was totally wearing them with a trucker hat cocked to the side at 3 in the morning when I met this guy-turned-boyfriend as he busted all up in my girls’ apartment when I was partying in Columbia). Where the hell was I going with this??)

::wanders off aimlessly::

So I wanted one of those fancy Linked-In profiles that all the other cool kids are getting... so uhh, I got one. I set up a little goofy profile and found some people I know and voila, now I am part of the Corporate Facebook, if you will.

While completing my little profile [that doesn't say jack shit because I don't know how to "sum up" a damn thing mostly because I'm the wordiest motherfucker on the planet... case in point], I noticed that I could add my screen name. "Why of course, I want everyone I've met in the working world to be able to IM me at any given moment!"

::Shaking head:: Me. I'm a tard.

So I totally add my screen name. And then a little twitch happened in my face because I remember something mildly important about my profile.

I made it while I was in college.

And do you recall what I did while in college?

I shook my ass. Furiously. All over town. I even had DJs stop the music to announce just how furiously I shook that ass of mine.

So, obviously, I did what any smart college kid does... I made an awesome AIM profile. That says this and only this:

“I have hydraulics in my ass”

And now I don’t know how to take it off because I do not even know how to do AIM crap anymore because (1) I'm not in college anymore, (2) Husband is a computer whiz kid and hooked up this thing called Pigin that like combined a bunch of shit, and (3) I don't know. I just don't effing know.

Looks like I'll have hydraulics in.my.ass. for the rest of.my.life.

So uhh yeah, I'll let you know what happens when a co-worker asks me just what I meant by that whole "ass hydraulics" thing in my profile.

::Smacks forehead::

The new job is such a nice change. Oh, and get this… we keep BEER in the fridge?! I knew this was a good decision!

Yesterday, I really said to myself these words: “I actually do like what I do.” I like got EXCITED when I made a new form. Who does that?! My organizational skills actually make me want to gag some of the time. It was a really good feeling though, to feel like I'm doing something important and to actually like the process of doing said important thing. Gives me hope that I'm actually doing something right.

And! And and AND! I’ve been researching how to be a good interviewer, and HR guru, and right arm to VP. Boss Man was like "crap, you already know all my secrets so now I can't hide shit from you! You're like my WIFE!" in regards to talking shop about hiring. I shook my fists in victory and told him that's exactly what I was going for. So, now I'm researching what the hell my job title should be. I used to be a "Business Process Coordinator." Whatever the fuck that means, right? Right. I'm searching for an equally confusing yet empowering title to scroll across my business cards. If you have some fantastic idea for some catchy frou-frou name worthy of scrawling all over my email signature, office door, and any other obnoxious place, please let me know. I can only be so creative on my own here, people.

And yesterday, Boss Man and I were standing in my future office, you know, the current catch-all room? Did I mention it even has a window! (that window might only face the brick wall of the BAR next door, but it totally counts.) And did I mention that we live next door to a BAR?!

And he said “I might have someone else share this room with you, but it’ll be someone on a more senior level who’s mature and trustworthy; not one of the kids.” And I took that as a complement, because obviously he doesn’t look at me as “one of the kids” even though I’m younger than some of them. Holy crap – RESPECT?!! What a concept.

New job, I think I love you.

I'm free! Free from the hell that was my first real, big girl job. Let's do a little recap of the last 2.5 years of my life that I've wasted away:

I had moved to Charleston with Husband (at the time he was Boyfriend, then soon became Fiance). He got me hooked up with a part-time admin job which I kept for about 5 months. I left that job because I managed to land a real 40 hr/week job at a bigger company. Just happy to have a real job with a real paycheck, I was too naive to notice the shit storm I was walking into.

My first boss was a living nightmare. He was this squatty little asshole with a serious case of dandruff who looked down on you (okay we'll figuratively since he had to look up at nearly everyone) if you didn't have 17 college degrees like he did. On a good day, he stood 5 and 1/2 feet tall. And yet for being dwarf-sized (in man height), he had an ego and an attitude big enough to accommodate, oh I don't know, fucking Big Foot. Initiative and creativity were bannished from the building. You were punished for having new ideas. If he didn't come up with it, then it wasn't good enough and would not be considered...

As if having his miserable ass prancing the halls wasn't bad enough, he then decided to hire this lousy excuse of a man who had a serious case of The Dunlop. Dunlop was fat, annoying, loud, full of himself, and disgustingly disrespectful to women. I was one of his first targets because I was a young, pretty, and intelligent woman. Those three things basically put a giant bulls eye on my back (though I wonder if he ever gave me credit for my brain). After taking his abuse for a few months, one day I decided I had had enough. That was it. I was no longer dealing with his meat head bullshit. He asked me to do the most retarded task and I said "you know what, NO. I'm not doing it."

This of course upset our Dunlop. "What? You only do what YOU want to do? What YOU think is important?"

I was fuming. Livid. Ready to strangle his big fat wrinkly neck. "You know what?! Yeah. I get to decide what deserves priority and what actually needs to be done! I besides, I don't actually work for YOU."

He yells at me with his fat all wiggling with rage, "I guess we're done here then."

I give him the meanest stink-eye I can muster up and growl, "I guess so!" And march my young, pretty, WOMAN ass out of his damn office.

I didn't give a fuck. I was tired of being treated like shit. I was tired of being discriminated against because of my age and gender. I was just tired.

Things quieted down soon after. Dunlop and I didn't speak. I didn't have a list of 50 irrelevant bullshit tasks piled on my desk, and I could actually do my job as it was intended.

And then something magical happened one day.

Our Dandruff-Doused Squatty Shithead Boss resigned. The sky opened up, the rain stopped, birds sang, and the entire building seemed to enjoy a collective sigh of relief. That hell that went on for the first year and a half of my life in this job was now over.

After shithead left the building, things got better. Shithead's boss took over and he basically could have passed for Santa Claus. He was a sweet, fat, jolly even, man who actually cared about his employees. However, while he cared about us, he didn't really care to make changes for us. So we were still floundering around with no real direction with our figurative thumbs shoved up our figurative asses. (And for some people, those asses are mammoth, let me tell you. I work with some of the ugliest, fattest people Charleston has to offer. Sheesh.)

Then the Gate Keepers of Hell (aka: Upper Management) decided to fire Santa Claus. Because obviously us minions were entirely too happy and that needed to change. They also fired a few of the other respectable people... so that left about 3 people in the entire company that were actually worth a shit. Amazingly enough though, the Gate Keepers appointed the RIGHT person to take over the Charleston office once Santa had left. Our new boss was a band member turned business man who talked to much about drinking, actually drank too much, but also gave a shit about his people AND and and and, DID something about it!

So, our new Lead Singer (if you will) has been in the lead for the last 6 months. I was the right arm to this man.

Big ass decisions? Consult Nic.
Have an HR Talk with this heathen of an employee? Consult Nic.
Happy Hour on a Tuesday? Consult Nic.

He trusted me with everything. He actually cared what I had to say. He actually saw the potential in me and let me do crazy important shit - like write papers to help win the company millions of dollars. He said things like "I don't know what I'll ever do if you leave." This guy actually saw me for what I was worth... so I decided that I actually needed to be paid for what I was worth.

And then the battle started.

I came in livid one day because I was just sick of everyone expecting me to always do the right thing and do it quickly. I sat down with him and said, "pay me more or I quit," (that was the short version - this actually took about 2 hours to say). So, after battling with the Gate Keepers of Hell, I actually managed to wrangle myself a sweet ass raise. Things were looking up.

And then the Gate Keepers really showed their wrath. The rain started again. Only this time, it was sideways rain. The birds didn't just leave, they died. There was no sunshine. No rainbows. No smiles. We were in Hell.

The Powers That Be decided we needed to do this "reorganization" and our department needed to be swallowed by another department. Which basically meant "Anything that you did before?? Well fuck that. It's our way or the highway, bitches."

They made my job difficult. No, scratch that. IMPOSSIBLE. They added 14 steps to any given process. They bitched at us for not hiring enough people, but they were the ones slowing us down with their newly instilled 14 extra steps. I even sat down with Satan himself and asked if Charleston could continue to function the way we did before. His answer: "No. We're doing it this way now."

Turns out Satan is far more of a shithead than Shithead Boss #1 ever was. He's a squatty pig-headed, Napoleon Complex of a man too. Only with a British accent on top of it. He makes me cringe. He's a total bastard.

I had finally had it. I was crying on a daily basis. I was now riding around the hallways on a broom with a frown. I was once considered a "cheerleader" for the company and I was now a haggard bitch because they MADE me that way. I went absolutely ballistic on Lead Singer one Thursday afternoon and threatened to quit.

The following Tuesday, I did. I fucking quit.

I had managed to land a sweet job with a smaller company and received my offer letter from them the Monday before the Tuesday that I sought my freedom. I even got a raise on top of the massive one I got from my current shit hole of a job. I took that opportunity and ran. Oh I fucking ran fast too.

As soon as I told Lead Singer, "There's no easy way to say this, but I've taken another job," the shackles busted off of me, the boulder on my back rolled off and I could actually breathe fresh air.

Today is my last day. Today is the LAST time I ever have to feel this way. Today is the beginning.

So, I just have to celebrate! Today, my boss came into my office, and the dialog was something like this:
Boss: Do you have any manila folders?
Nicole: Well, not manila, but folders.
Boss: Okay, what do you have?
Nicole: Green, Orange and Yellow
Boss: What's your favorite?
Nicole: Mmm... green.
Boss: Give me one.

So I gave him a green folder. He stuffed some papers in it and shoved it in my hands and then turned around and left. I just figured it was nasty HR stuff that I had to send out. I opened it and it is an out-of-cycle merit increase, which in lamens terms means boss man is giving me a raise. A BIG raise! It is so completely wonderful to know how appreciated I am. And that goes for everything - work, life, family, friends. When someone lets me know that they respect me and genuinely appreciate what I do for them, that automatically puts this giagantic cheesball smile on my face.

The next wonderful thing of the day: I trusted this fabulous new friend to highlight my hair - 9 days before my wedding! She is Dave's boss' wife. Her name is Winnie. I thought she was cool as hell anyway, and now to know that she can actually do what I ask with my hair, oh, I'm sold for life! And she fed me wine and white cheddar cheese popcorn. Good day!

I know I never wrote a blog about the bachelorette party, but that's mostly because (a) the pictures pretty much explain the weekend, and (b) there quite possibly may not be words to describe just how much I love Erin, Megan, Emily and Catherine. Megan planned the whole penis-filled weekend. She excelled, just as expected. I love you 4 like my own family. God only know where I'd be without you. I had so much fun that weekend and I truly owe it all to you ladies. Thank you!

Might I add, Dave's weekend wasn't too shabby either. I collaborated with his work buddies and his closest out-of-town buddies to put together a bachelor party for him the same weekend. About 15 of them ended up on some crazy sailboat with 2 stippers that Friday night. Needless to say, not one of them could hang Saturday night. The girls could though... all the while I was laying on bartops having shots poured down my pretty little bride-to-be throat. Hell yeah.

All in all, my life is amazing. I am so lucky and damn I know it. I have this amazing man that I get to call my husband in about a week; my friends care about me so freaking much that I don't even know how to thank them for caring about me that freaking much. Even though the move to Charleston was hard at first, look at me now - I have a killer job and a boss who really does think a lot of me. I must admit, I can't ask for much more. I win

No, I didn't fall off the face of the planet or simply forget that I used to keep up with this blog thing. I've been insanely busy with work and school that I honestly haven't had a chance to sit here and humor you. And sadly enough, funny stuff really hasn't happened lately. Bad stuff hasn't happened either. Just stuff.

Spring Break was so amazing. Dave and I had such a wonderful time together - it was really nice that just the two of us decided to do something low-key. As you may or may not have known, Dave and I went to Madiera Beach, FL with his parents (they paid for everything. way sweet). We had decided we were going to drive down Friday night, stay at a hotel and finish the drive on Saturday since it was a 609 mile drive. Eww. Well, we hit Gainsville, FL around midnight and decided to call it quits. Little did we know that it was the biggest damn Hot Rod car show collaboration in the Southeast that weekend. Crap. We had to drive another 80 miles before we could find a vacant, unsketchy hotel. By that time we were already in Tampa and it was like 3 am. We stopped at just about every exit that had hotels and all of the bastards were full. Way blah. We ended up in this sweet Sharaton suite for the night. We couldn't really enjoy it though because we were both so delirious and exhausted that all we did was pass out on our humongous California King squishy pillow-covered bed. Eh well, at least there were inside hallways and English speaking people there... So we laid on the beach, ate fabulous food and goofed off for an entire week. Awesome

In the past 14 days, I've been at the Esso for 10 of them... some with as little as 6 hours in between shifts. Gross. So needless to say, I'm exhausted and quite sick of drunk men. Well, I'm always sick of drunk men, but I'm exceptionally sick of them, currently.

Yesterday was my official first day of summer (i.e. I drank beer at the pool for hours on end...) Yay, summer! There was a whole slew of awesome people out there too -- Erin, Leah, Joe, Shawn, Stephanie and Kristen. We basically all just made fun of each other and got sunburn. Believe me, there were grounds for making fun too -- examples include the following: Leah brought a Mason jar to house her wine that she drank out of a Budweiser cup; Shawn compared me to Humpty Dumpty because I had to sit on the ledge to get down, rather than just stepping down like he did; Joe hooked up with a slightly random girl, who proceeded to tell me, and of course I had to tell him that she told... and I told everyone else, too. Oops. Then I got a cooler of freezing ass cold water dumped on me. Thanks, a-hole; Leah brought ghetto ass speakers to hook up to her i-pod for all to enjoy; and Erin burnt the piss out of her boobies. Good day, man.

I promise that I will try to keep up with this things better. Interesting stuff should be happening tonight, actually -- Asian Jayson and Forty Friend Zach are both in town. And later this week the following will occur: Dave's birthday, a visit from Emily and a trip to Charleston. Prepare for storytime people. Prepare.

Last night was the Esso Christmas party. Open bar. Lord. I took Joe as my fill-in date. He's a pro (thank you!) That cute boyfriend of mine was snowboarding and couldn't come get drunk with me. Booo. But I think it's safe to say that we had a good time. There was enough food to feed a small country and the alcohol that was consumed was at a sinful level.
I think I got drunk fast. The party started at 5:00. By 6:30 there was already booty dancing. Misty and Candle got that started for us -- I joined shortly after. I took a break at one point and I was just chillin out with Joe, Jabba and Wiggins. Apparently Wiggins made some comment along the lines of "Jabba is a sex offender." I heard "Jabba is a sexy panda." No idea... I was thoroughly confused and the boys found it to be extremely hillarious. I was made fun of for the rest of the night. I was also hit on for the majority of the night by Charles the owner. Interesting... Apparently he likes tall, dark haired girls with big boobs and since my boobs were kind of stealing the show, as Misty put it, I guess that made me a prime candidate to be hit on. Don't worry, Dave, I held my own... and after the shit I went through Saturday night/Sunday morning with one particular idiot, I can definitely be a monumental bitch if need be. Ha. I actually didn't really have to do much... just kinda walk away since he was so ridiculously drunk he didn't notice if I was there or not. Candice, our manager, gave us all these adorable glass ornaments that say Esso. Very cute - and thoughtful. We also did a Chinese Christmas gift exchange where you draw numbers and pick gifts and then you can steal or whatever. The gift I choose first was some shot glasses and a black and white picture of the Esso. It was stolen so I was able to choose another. It was so appropriate that I picked the gift that was a game called "What the F*ck?" How hysterical is that?! Its all these funny ass hypotheticals like "you're in prison for the rest of your life, do you want your cell mate to be (a) an angry cross-dresser or (b) an anorexic gang member." Oh I cannot wait to have another drunken board game night!
I had my fill of vanilla vodka and diet coke and ate all the dip, vegetables, and sausage balls I could stand by about 10:30. Joe and I goofed around for about another hour and then decided to head home. The party was really fun. I convinced myself that I needed a 30 minute bath when I got home. I don't know why really. I just sat there and talked to the cats. Whatever. And I didn't feel too much like tootie today when I woke up. Yay for the Esso Christmas party! Oh yeah and go look at the pictures in the December album to better appreciate the drunken fun that was had.

Saturday was the first game of the season for us crazy Tigers and maaaan was it nuts at the Esso. The entire staff had to be there at 7:00 am. For those of you that don't know, it is still dark outside then. Gross. So Lindsey picked up me, Candle, Jenny and Kate at like 6 motherfreakin 30. We were all delirious and in serious need of food. So we were all screaming for Hardee's and Lindsey had no choice but to take our asses there. We ordered food by the masses along with "two strong coffees." Kate was in the back seat exaggerating the strongness that was needed in these strong coffees in order for her to actually live through the day. We ate so furiously that there were biscuit remnants strewn about the car -- that I am certain Lindsey will continue to find for a good 3 weeks. We happened to be sitting at a redlight when this crazy car pulls up beside us and starts blowing the horn like a maniac and making a scene. We all turned to look, and it is Candice, our manager, flipping us two birds while sticking her tongue out, shaking her head and screaming. There's one way to go about waking up.
So we are there at 7:00 am. Uuuggghh. It physically hurt to be awake. I chose to pop caffeine pills, eat a donut and drink Mr. Pibb all while doing my dork dance. You know, the one where I kinda crouch down, make fists, and then swivel my hips in a clockwise manner. Yeah, that one. This black dude was watching me and he was like, "Something's missing. You need some twirk." I was like, "Oh don't worry honey, I got twirk." and I walked away. When I came back, he was like, "Damn right you got twirk." Apparently my homemade Walmart cutoff khakis did the trick. Yes, you read that correctly. I owned no real shorts to my name Friday night, so spur of the moment and a lack of options drove me to go to Walmart and find some pants and act like I was in the 90s and create my own shorts. Hey, whatever, they qualified me for twirkness, so that's fine by me.
I went outside to help set up tables when I was unfortunately greeted by a nasty bee. And the asshole stung me! Bastard. And on top of that, he stung me in my armpit! How do you even do that? I screamed and ran inside. Candice was like, damnit, if you can't breathe, you find me! Luckily I had no breathing problems... well at least they weren't caused by the bee - drunk men were a different story.
We had this temporary tattoo tent set up in the parking lot and the dude told us that he would give all the Esso Girls one for free if we put it somewhere visible on ourselves. Most of the girls got tiger paws or cute things... I opted for a different route. You know how big 18 wheelers have those mud flaps on the tires? And they usually have that girl on them? Well yeah, I got the mud flap girl branded on to my left shoulder blade in an obnoxious blue color. Can we say tacky? That thing sure did get me some attention throughout the day. Here are a few comments received from various drunk men in regards to the mud flap girl:
1. Damnit! I knew I should have put that ring in my pocket when I left my house today because I would ask you to marry me right now.
2. Ohmygod, I wish my wife would do that.
3. I love you.
The list went on, but I chose to stop listening to the drunken fools. Little miss mud flap helped me rack up some good tips though, so I can't really complain.
Early afternoon sometime I ended with a table of 6 or 7 Texas guys who were really cool. And they thought it was exceptionally cool that I was from Texas, so we bonded. Well, the boys ran up a $200 tab and then decided that they also wanted to get a gigantic order of mini bottles -- $280 worth, to be exact. 36 bottles of Absolute and 20 bottles of Jim Beam. I had to carry it in a grocery bag and guard it with my life as I pushed my way through the drunken masses of tailgaters. The bar eventually got so crowded that I couldn't physically force myself through the clusters of people inside. I actually had to go outside and weave through people out there and come in the other door to make it to my tables in the back. Madness. I did get really good at yelling "'scuse me!" and you better believe that people get out of your way when you have 3 drinks in your hands, 2 beers in your pockets and an Esso tank top on. I felt kinda powerful. And of couse the drunk guys would be like, "of course we'll move babydoll, anything for you darlin." Hey whatever, at least they weren't cussing me out. Though I did have to argue with two dicks that day. But two in 19 hours isn't too terrible. One guy was like "I need two gin and cokes." I repeated it back to him to make sure I heard him correctly (because keep in mind you shouldn't mix those two together) and when I came back he was like "what the fuck is this? I ordered gin and juice" I was like, "nope, I repeated it back to you that you said gin and coke so that is what you got. You can order another one if you want." He did. Moron. Then this other doof was like "l told one of the girls to get me a bucket and she didn't" so I told him I would but he had to give me a few minutes because I had other orders. Well, he ends up stopping me and yelling at me that he could have gone to the bar already and gotten his bucket. I was like, "well then go to the bar! Otherwise give me about 10 minutes because we are really really busy..." he shut up and I got his stupid bucket of beer to him and then he gave me nice tips after giving me hell.
We had a 20 foot screen in our parking lot with the game on -- I managed to not see a single play of the entire thing, but damn, I knew when something good or bad was happening because the Esso went absolutely insane. And holy crap, when that interruption happened with 3 minutes left in the game, I was afraid a riot was going to break out. I have never heard strands of cuss words that long or that vulgar in my life. And I thought I had a foul mouth... Goood gah, don't mess with those football fans. They'll kill someone. Speaking of that, Candle about knocked out this one moron. He called her a stupid bitch for not being fast enough waiting on him and she flipped out. Like, pounded her fist on the bar, about flew over the bar, and was like "can you not see that there are 500 other motherfuckers trying to do the same thing you are?! Don't be an asshole!" Ha! And for those of you who know Candle, know that the girl can make you laugh so hard you can't breathe, which was a very nice relief after such a ridiculous day.
We got to leave around 2:00 am, and can I just tell you that I looked like a lunatic just attempting to walk normally. I managed to fuck up my neck, hurt my back and get a massive blister on one of my toes, and my feet hurt so bad that I actually had random convulsions. So basically, if you can imagine this, I was limping, holding my arms bent in front of me with my head cocked to the side, hair all frazzled, mascara to my ears and bar smeared all over my body. I kinda looked like a deranged Quazzi Motto. You know, the hunchback guy? Gah. I was a sight. It was worth it -- her is where I brag a little -- all of the other girls on the floor made about $900 in sales. I made $1715 in sales! And I am the new girl! Go me :) I was proud. Which means, I got the best tips out of the girls on the floor too. Yaaay.
So I managed to successfully live though the first game. And we won! So yay for me for living, yay for Esso for kicking ass and yay for the Tigers for winning their first game!

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.