Accidental Paperie

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




And, holy crap, they make lunch box notes! Okay, seriously, when I'm a mom, I'm putting a note in my kids' lunches everyday that says something ridiculous like "hey, don't pick your nose" or knock knock jokes:
Knock Knock.
Who’s there?
Candy.
Candy who?
Candy cow jump over de moon?


So now I'm currently on a mission to find cutie fru fru stickers to put all over the mail I want to send all over the world. Guess that means I need to overhaul my stamps too because something tells me my relatives think I'm a little spazzy when I send them a thank-you card mid-March that has a Nutcracker stamp on it. Yes, time for neutral stamps and absolutely ridiculous address labels with polka dots and monkeys and little swirly letters all over them. Gimme gimme gimme.

Dirty on 85

Remember the song from college by Youngbloodz called "Dirty on 85?" Yes? Well good. I know what inspired them to write that song: Freaking Atlanta.
Okay, first, you do actually have to drive on 85 to get to Atlanta (if you're coming from Greenville, SC). And 85 is actually filthy. Everyone drives like morons, and God-forbid it rains while you're on 85 (which it always does because that is the highway to rainy, soggy hell). The roads were obviously made with pavement labeled "best for use in the rain if you want to produce so much spray from your car that you can't even see the car in front of you." And 85 spits you right out into downtown Atlanta. Full of smog, douchebags in Porches and homeless people. Lots and lots of dirty homeless people. While trying to walk just one block, we were approached by 3 different bums. Ugh.
Oh, and apparently the valet at the Rennaisance hotel is under a sappy tree filled with pigeons because my car returned to me with 800 pellets of sap all over it and almost the same number of bird poops. Topped off with a nice flyer for some hip-hop party of the century. WTF.
I'm never going back to nasty Atlanta. And I'd also be completely content with never driving on dirty 85 either.
Gross.

What It iS

Okay so it's typical for Dave and I to get an inordinate amount of energy before we go to bed at night. We end up laying around cracking up being complete morons. This week was no exception... well, once I got over the food poisoning/stomach flu that I contracted from Denny's. Or maybe it was from the strippers we saw before Denny's. Not the point.
So I was trying to ask Dave "what is it," but it came out more like "what, what wachatk it, scschh, shit, damn it." I completely could not make sentences, so instead, I gave up and in my loudest, deepest man voice just screamed "WHAAAAAT IT IS?"
Come to think of it, I never got an answer.
Worth it.

WHAT IT IS?!!

Get Me Bodied

Manda Pants turned 30 today! Go Shawty. It's your birfday. We had party time for her on Friday night - started at Red's, ended at this interesting little bar called Infuzions. We'll get to that later. Red's started off with some buckets of beer and a giant bucket of oysters. Most people took part in the beer. The oysters, however, were only had by Jay. They thoughtfully brought out little, white, Michael Jackson-ish gloves for him to use too. I still don't understand the concept. The only way I eat oysters is when they happen to end up at the bottom of my shot glass. So whatever.
After a while, Amanda realized she needed to shake her ass. Yes, this is a need, people. Sometimes you get little pangs, like "oh wow, I'm hungry. I need a sammich." Other times, it's a different pang, like "Holy crap. I have to dance. Someone turn on the Cupid Shuffle. Stat." Well, I know of at least 3 women that think like that: myself, Amanda and Emily. Conveniently we were all together and all had the same pang. Hmm.
So we wind up at InfuZions. With a big Z. Whatever. It was close by and they had a DJ. Ahh, the DJ. Okay, so like 10 of us bust in there where there happens to be only about 10 other people in there to begin with. And they're all older women. Cougar weekend at InfuZions, whaaaat?!! We started out with some sake (1 syllable, not 2) (What the hell is sake?!!) (Inside jokes) (I digress) and then we needed to dance, as I had previously mentioned. I asked the DJ to step it up a bit and play something less sucky and more like Pitbull "Krazy." Well, he did. And we took over the "dance floor," ie: the teeny space between the tables and DJ booth. By the way, did anyone else notice how unnecessarily bright it was in there? Turn the lights down. Sheesh. Okay, so we get ridiculous. Like dance-in-the-middle-of-the-circle, show your best moves, ridiculous. DJ played "Get Me Bodied" by Beyonce. Enough said. Someone ground me, seriously.
We obviously made a spectacle of ourselves because 2 things happened:
1. The bartender asked me what shot I wanted - I suggested a round of sake. He explained that he bought this shot for us in an attempt to say sorry for completely staring at me all night. He also told me to tell my husband sorry. Ha.
2. The Cougars at the bar asked me where I learned to dance like that. When I tried to continue the conversation and ask where they were from, it didn't go so well. I was like "so where are you from?" They said somewhere in NC, so I asked "well what are you doing here?" Their response? "Well fuck you." Um what? I just meant like, were you on vacation; not like, what the hell are you doing in my awesome bar/town? Okaaaay.
We later learned that the lovely ladies offered Mr. DJ $500 to go strip for them. Emily and I said this was a terrific idea and he should totally do it. I mean, it is $500 bucks from a bunch of crazy middle-aged women. Hell, I'd do it. Well, maybe.
The night ended when Emily was trying to tie my hair back for me with dental floss since I was sweating so much and Amanda ended up in Jay's lap in full make-0ut mode.
And that, my friends, is how we do.

Ladies' Night

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.