flashback!

so...as you can see, i haven't been blogging as much lately. and i just hate to leave my faithful readers with no new material. i mean, you guys are counting on me to help you get through 5 minutes of what seem to be your never-ending eight hour days in cube world. but there's a problem--the summer is going to be a busy one.

tomorrow i am heading to the beach. next weekend my bro is getting married. in the same weekend i will spend lots of time visiting a best bud who just had a baby, and shopping around for a new car with my dad. the next weekend is my bday and god only knows where i will be then. 5 days later i will be taking a road-trip to upstate ny. then the next weekend it's back to the beach. before you know it, it's football season, during which ALL of my weekends are booked. seriously. i don't do anything during football season other than drink and watch football. oh, except this year i am going to a wedding in jamaica in october. i will be missing the clemson/gtech game but that's a sacrifice i had to make. but there is some kind of wedding curse with that game anyway. my uncle got married on the day of that game the season before last, and my brother and dad told my mom to forget it...so i got guilt-tripped into going. i snuck away from the reception in time to make it to the hotel and watch the game. then last season another friend got married on that day, and i missed the wedding. it was at a time when i wouldn't have been able to catch the game on tv so there was no chance. wow...so yeah, maybe i should write a blog about my obsession with college football.

okay, so through all that rambling, the point is this: i am not one of those people who carts around my laptop everywhere i go. basically because it's not like i fucking need it. it's a way for me to overcome boredom when i am at home. not a lifeline or some shit. so how am i going to entertain (hopefully) my readers during all these busy times? oh...with some flashbacks!

i save emails. i don't know why, but i would guess it's because i know that if they will be good memories. so i have archives of shit that i wrote, usually to jarrett, during the pre-rehab days. so yeah, they are mostly me rambling about drinking, or the chaos from the night before...blah, blah blah. there was a point in time when i was going to the bar every single night, and i decided that i needed to start writing summaries of the evening on the back of my bar tab. yeah. then i found them a few months later and was like, "shit, i forgot i did that". so the first FLASHBACK (yeah!) will feature a few of those. wow...i could have just cut out the first 1000 words of this...but whatever.

The receipt, 02/06-Already tanked from watching the Duke/UNC game @ Wild Wing we head to Gin Mill to meet Josh’s friend from down under. She was very mellow, but me, Jason and Jeff talked about Noblesboro and Bonnaroo. Jarrett and the aussie talked about who knows what. Josh told me I was mean to him when I am drunk-I told him, “shut the f*ck up you sorry sack of sh*t”-not really-that was a joke.

The receipt, 3/1/06-I had just gotten back from a road trip to NY the day before at 2 am. Went to work the next morning @ 8-worked all day. Dreamt all day about my bed, but sure enough I head to the bar. 5 beers and 3 shots later we were giving the guy who has been stalking me a ride home. My beligerant ass pulls into his driveway and notices a trampoline off to the right. 2 seconds later I am jumping and convincing J and the stalker to join. A few laughs and many bruises later I am laying there getting molested. 3 am we are home and work is in 4 hours.

The receipt, 2/14/06-Valentines Day! J & I head to Thomas St Tavern. It was seriously uneventful. Therefore we were easily convinced by MK to journey down to Rock Hill-we drank the rest of my tequila on the way. At Rock City Tavern I was clearly wasted and took about 40 business cards off the corkboard in the restroom-proceeded to call a random plumber (telling him there was an urgent leak in some pipe) and a realtor who I convinced that I just got a sh*t ton of $ in an inheritance and needed a mansion w/ an indoor pool (and so on). This all through my slurred speech at midnight. Then we made Bonnaroo plans and carried on.


so those are the only ones i could find in email...pretty fucking boring actually. you could always spend time writing your own blog.

the tormented mind of an alcoholic

my friend jeremy and i had a text message discussion today that went like this:

2 pm
jeremy: code blue
me: already?
jeremy: always
me: sweet!
jeremy: what has 2 arms and 2 legs and sucks?
me: me?
jeremy: what is brown and sticky?
me: um, maple syrup
jeremy: no, a stick

okay...so that basically makes no sense. code blue means it's time for a coors light. so...while i was living my normal humdrum day in my little cubicle, there's a trigger delivered to my inbox. so now i want to drink. and now, almost 5 hours later, i am sitting here trying to rationalize why it's a good decision to break up my routine of working out every night (which has not been successful because of constant interruptions involving getting wasted) to go drink. and there's really not one...but here's the one i came up with: i worked out the last 2 nights, and i am going to work out friday morning, since i am leaving for the beach right after work. so clearly, wednesday (since it's in the middle of the week) is the perfect day to tie a buzz on because i will still be hitting the gym tomorrow and friday. but the truth is this: it could have been monday or tomorrow and i would still come up with a reason why it's a good idea for me to drink. i mean, who would say that going to the gym is more fun than getting fucked up? probably someone who has an equally obsessive mind...just with a healthier motive. blah blah blah...i am rambling. the point is i want to get fucked up. imagine that.

my weekend of luxury

you know, i think if i had kids and my life was boring it would be a lot easier to go to work. but it’s not. my life is fun, because i make sure to have fun. and if i didn’t have as much fun as i possibly could (especially on the weekends), i would probably have killed myself by now…although i am not the suicidal type because i would hate to cut the cord the day before i won the lotto or something. well, this weekend was great, and i feel like giving you a run-down (with pictures) because anything else i would have to talk about right now would be considered bitching, and i am not in the mood to do that…i know, crazy huh?

i got off at noon friday. a couple of guys (we’ve worked together for 6 years) and i planned the half-day about a month in advance. every time we go out to lunch we stare at the bar at whatever restaurant that we chose and talk about how lovely it would be to indulge in some adult beverages rather than return to work. and although some people have a couple of beers on their lunch breaks, i cannot be one of those people for two reasons: 1. there is no such thing as me having just a couple of beers, and 2. my employer paid for my rehab so coming back with the slightest hint of booze on my breath would put me right in the unemployment line.

so anyways, we took off at noon and hit the bar. i was trying to maintain, so i could stay out all night, but still tied on a good buzz by 4pm. we saw a guy get hit by a car. he was crossing the street and some woman hit him. he popped up, probably because of the adrenaline, and she happened to be a nurse, so she forced him to get in the car and took him to the hospital. but so many people sitting on the deck of the place has already called 911 so minutes later there was an ambulance, fire truck, the works. so that was exciting. then, because my coworkers are good boys with responsibilities to tend to, i called a friend who was still at work and told him to make up a reason to leave…like my car had broken down and i was on the side of the road…and he did.

so, we went back to the bar. 30 minutes later, an old friend from rehab called and wanted to hang out. he came and picked me up, we dabbled in some things, then went back to the bar. wow…could i just keep my ass seated for 10 minutes? then the heavy drinking ensued. i was toasted by around 10, and my rehab buddy needed to leave by then to ‘meet up with someone’ before we went back to my place. so, after this little transaction, we get to my apartment and dabble some more. i won’t name specifics, but it starts with an ‘x’ but sounds like it starts with a ‘z’. wow, that’s a hard one to figure out…haha. the next thing i know it’s around 1 or 2 in the morning…and i don’t really remember the conversation, but i know we started watching some movie.

i wake up saturday and my bedroom looks like a tornado had swept through it. there were movies everywhere, a pair of my friend’s shorts, beer cans, the works. all i knew is that i was hungry and hadn’t gotten much sleep. so then what do i decide i should do, but head to the beach!

(i know there are no pics yet...i don't think i was in any condition to use a camera up to this point. and we know what happened to my last one.)

jarrett and i drove to st. george, about an hour from edisto and got a hotel room. we were there by around 7 (we got a late start because my saturday, up until about 3 pm was a big blur and completing simple tasks, such as showering, took 5 times as long). we got some dinner, beer and huge bottles of wine (well, really wild vines…so alcoholic fruit juice) and tied on a buzz.And then we decide to go swimming. there was a set of parents and their daughter who was probably about 5. it was around 9:30 and we were hoping they would leave, but instead the dad stood over the little girl in his business casual attire giving her a minute by minute countdown up until 10 pm...the time the pool closed. it was so fucking annoying i wanted to take my beer bottle and slam it in his face. calm down people...they were plastic bottles. like i would EVER bring glass around a pool and potentially harm an innocent child or other pool-goer. so, the pool was supposed to close at 10 but since when do i follow any rules? when we finally returned to the room we played my version of circle of death (which, by the way, is the best version ever), some high low, had some drunken conversation then passed out. did i mention that i absolutely love staying in hotels? apparently in the pic below i was too drained to actually wrap my lips around the bottle and was hoping it would just creep it's way into my mouth.and here we have some stupid shit that we always seem to do...like jarrett drinking a beer from my monkey feet.sunday morning we woke up, showered, and were ready to check out and hit the beach. jarrett couldn’t get his car to crank (because of the handy interlock breathalyzer thingy) but somehow i was able to. thank freakin god. so we head to the beach, and bask in the sun…for hours…and hours. we swam a few times, and at one point i swam right into a rock. so there i am swimming around thinking…shit, that kinda hurt. finally i pulled up my knee to see a huge gash in it. it was gushing blood so fortunately there weren’t any hungry sharks around.

and here's why i love edisto. on the way to and fro you will pass about 40 fucking churches, a trailer that is up on about 25 feet of cinder blocks, and this tacky ass tree that someone always decorates. it makes me happy. like, if i go one time and it's not there has this person lost hope or died, or does it just represent the end of back woods coastal towns altogether? that would be sad. we need a little less miami and a little more edisto.
ahh...the beautiful drive.

we left just in time for a wonderful storm to roll in, after hours of swimming in the salty water, enjoying the ocean breeze and absorbing a month's worth of vitamin d. what a perfect weekend!

fake boobs do not equal great service

it really sucks when you like a place but you don’t like the staff. there’s a bar that we walk to on occasion that is small, dark, and full of men. the reason it’s full of men is because all of the bartenders are tiny girls with big fake boobs, fake hair, and fake tans. and you know, even if a man really isn’t in to the whole “fake” thing that doesn’t mean he doesn't enjoy eye candy. but let me just be clear; i am not one of those jealous bitches. i would never envy someone who feels the need to get attention by emulating barbie. what i do have a problem with is when the staff is so fucking stupid you can’t get good service.

last night we were at this place. we sat at a bar table. i ordered drinks from the bar. i sat down. we drank the beers. i went to the bar and ordered 2 more. we drank those. i went to the bar and ordered 2 more. we drank those. a friend of mine called for directions to the place. i was on the phone with him for at least 10 minutes. i went to the bar and ordered two shots of tequila and 2 more beers. we drank those. i went outside and walked to the corner to meet up with my friend. we walked inside and sat down. he ordered a beer from the bar. the point is…a good hour (or two) had passed, when one of the servers comes up to our table and asked if we needed anything. i let her know that we have been ordering from the bar, but then (being a former waitress and just the unbelievably polite person that i am) asked her if we are at her table. she says yes, and she would prefer that we close out at the bar and open a tab with her. we oblige.

and now, seriously, 35 minutes, 35 MINUTES LATER, she comes up and says that she is getting off for the night so we need to close our tabs with her so she can get the tip. okay. i know this happens. i know in bars with shift changes this shit happens. and i always close out and open a new one so the original bartender/server doesn’t get the shaft. but come the fuck on. you make us close our tabs at the bar and open one with you when you know that your shift ends in 35 fucking minutes???? where was your stupid ass the first 2 hours that i made 8 trips to the bar? oh yeah, you were in the bathroom piddly fucking around with your hair extensions and admiring your ass in the mirror. fucking cunt.

interruption.
this guy just walked into my cube and i have my hoodie pulled up over my head and this is how the conversation went

him: what’s wrong with you
me: i drank too much last night
him: you went out last night and didn’t call me?
me: yep. do i ever call you?
him: i see how it is
me: well i am glad we are both clear on the subject
him: shouldn’t you be taking it easy?
me: probably…this bone on my head really hurts (history side note: when i jumped off a waterfall a couple of years ago i hit my head on a rock which resulted in a concussion, contusion, some surface hemorrhaging of the brain and 2 black eyes. i hit the middle of my forehead…like the right brow bone, but oddly enough, there is now this part of my skull that sticks out on the left side of my forehead. it’s like a knot, but it’s a bone. and it keeps shifting and sticking out more. you only notice if you are at the right angle…but still…i think i am growing a devil horn or something)
him: that’s weird
me: i wonder if like my skull is like the earth and the platelets are moving and there’s about to be an earthquake and all my hair is going to fall out
him: whoa, platelets…you just took it back to some earth science
me: god…i forgot all about earth science…that was ages ago
him: like, at least 10 years
me: how old are you, like 16?
him: when i took earth science my teacher was really fat and when she did the lesson on earthquakes she got up on her desk and jumped off
at this point i laugh hysterically and really, really loudly.
me: no she didn’t
him: yes she did…it was hilarious.
me: how did that measure on the rictor scale?
him: you know what else was funny…another one of my teachers slipped and fell and hit her face on the corner of the desk and had a black eye for a really long time.
me: black eyes are awesome
him: i am going to go do some work
me: get away from me

okay…we can now resume with the bartenders saga.
so…we close our tabs with the server, but another one doesn’t appear, so we go back up to the bar. at this point i am told that i can’t open a tab since i am not at the bar, which is amazing because i just had one 40 minutes prior. but whatever. so then i just had to pay for the drinks and close out. then the bud select people showed up and gave us free beer so that saved me from another trip. but, because of these idiots, i now have four freaking bar tabs from this place! assholes. and so conveniently, i had to call the bank this morning because something funny was going on when i tried to make an online purchase, and the woman was like, well let’s go through the most recent transactions and see if they are valid…
that was a fun conversation.

the new move?

so...as i mentioned before, nyc might be out of the question for now. during my recent trip to upstate ny, some friends and i talked about it, and turns out that they want to move down south. so...i really, really want to move to the city. but if a few of the people that are nearest and dearest to me want to move down here...then i could surely try that out. i mean, my friends are the most important thing to me. i love my family and all...but they don't really get kicks out of an alcoholic who dives off waterfalls. they would prefer me to chill and make babies...and that's just not going to happen. also...we were all thinking about moving to asheville...and that's an awesome city.

today i sent these friends an email, and now it's going here...mainly because i didn't write anything else today because i was really busy. but also because it's a story from a trip i took to asheville a couple of years ago, and i love to reminisce.

I couldn't go to sleep last night for 2 reasons:

A. I was sober
B. I am like a child who gets excited about things and then thinks about them all night and last night, since Caroline was the last person I talked to before trying to sleep and we talked about Asheville (of course)…well, moving was on my mind.

I know we were griping about how the men aren't going to stay focused. So, because I am probably the most persistent person you will ever meet, you are each going to get a "reason to move to Asheville" email every day that I am at work. So…that's roughly 107 days until the move…obviously vacation days and weekends are not included because on the weekends and during my vacations (during which I will be with you guys for the most part) I will harass you face to face. Wow. If I got an email like this I would probably think, "this bitch is retarded". Oh but wait…I kinda am.

REASON #1 TO MOVE TO ASHEVILLE
The bums are super cool.

One weekend my friend Tanner and I went to Asheville. It was snowy and cold and we tied on a buzz like no other. In downtown Asheville there are buildings that have glass foyers that you can go in even when all the interior businesses are closed. So on this night when we left the bar at closing time we decided to hang out in one of the foyers. Tanner and I like to sing in harmony-usually Christmas carols when it's nowhere near Christmas. So, we started singing and realized that the acoustics in this little human aquarium were AWESOME. So we sang and sang. There were railings that I walked on like tight ropes which resulted in a lot of bruising (imagine that).

In walks this bum who says, "you got $2.12"? Tanner and I tell him yes but we want to know what he needs it for. So he explains that there is this gas station down the road where you can get 2 hot dogs, a bag of chips and a soda for $2.12. We are very impressed by this insane deal so our drunk asses talk about it for at least 4 minutes. We asked the bum all kinds of questions. So wait, you get 2 hot dogs, a bag of chips AND a soda? Are you sure you just don't get one hot dog and a bag of chips and a soda OR 2 hot dogs and a soda? Do they have chili? Are the buns warm? Are they GOOD hot dogs? How do they make any money…I mean, I know hot dogs are cheap but when you factor in chili, relish, ketchup, mustard, onions, buns…not to mention chips and a soda...

Finally we tell the bum that we will give him the money if he listens to us sing "The Rose" in harmony, like having us play 20 questions wasn't enough torture to endure. I mean…any bum in Charlotte would have spit on us by this point…seriously. So, he responds saying that he would love to hear us sing and that he LOVES that song. And we are like, um…you know that song? It turns out he was thinking of a completely different song. We finish singing and he appears to be impressed. I guess he thought that the $2.12 was riding on whether or not he complimented our skills. But then…just when you think the torture is over, I scream, "wait!! Now listen to us sing Going to the Chapel". Oh my god. I should have been put in bed by this point…and the bum should have already been enjoying a hot dog or two. When we were done the guy was all excited and was like, "you guys are engaged, congratulations". Tanner and I played along and I talked about plans to have 7 children and live on the side of an active volcano. He might have been the nicest and most patient man on the face of the earth. Either that or he was REALLY, REALLY hungry.

The point is this: If you are going to live somewhere that there are bums (so, like basically anywhere) then it might as well be a place where the bums are cool.

life lessons: my trip in bullet points

thursday

- i will never again have a layover in philly. that airport is a complete disaster. i went from walking through an area that reminded me of high school to needing a hard hat to feeling like i was lost in a rape zone. the fact that over a mile later i found terminal f without being killed or injured was enough of a reason for me to buy 6 $8 beers and get tanked for the next flight (like i needed a reason).

-if you ever fly into burlington, vt, you will probably be on the smallest “commercial” plane ever made. i was on row 11, aka the last row. when the landing gear was retracted it sounded as though we lost the engine.

-if you are going to go to sam’s, bring everyone, and get fucked up first. it’s the best and only way to get bulk shopping done without feeling like a 42 year-old with octuplets.

-when sitting by a pool table, expect to get jabbed a few times. caroline, geoff, matt and i go to their favorite bar. we got completely shit-faced, which wasn’t hard considering that i had been drinking since philly, caroline started around 1, and the others at around 5. we sat at a bar table that was beside the one and only pool table. caroline kept having to move out of the way, which she kindly did the entire night…that is, until we closed our tab and were ready to leave. then apparently she got ballsy. a guy jabbed her in the back (i can only assume accidentally) and caroline lays into him about how annoying it is to have to move the whole night. i remind her that we are at the table beside the pool table, but she doesn’t give a shit. they are going back and forth while i stand at the door screaming, “who gives a fuck”. everyone is laughing and i can only assume that this is because a) this is the dumbest argument ever, or b) we are 50 miles from canada and a drunk southerner is yelling, “who gives a fuck” at the top of her lungs (yes, that would be me). please enjoy the video of our drive home. if drunk driving offends you then you are clearly in the wrong place. i think some weed was smoked. then we passed out.

the video will be downloaded tomorrow or later tonight. it's taking for fucking ever and i have a buzz to go catch.

friday

-just because you are ready on time, don’t assume you aren’t going to end up waiting for some other jackass. we were up friday morning by around 7. we showered, packed up the cars, and hit the road by 11. we get to saranac lake, where joe decided to postpone things. he got lost on the way back from a friend’s or something. then geoff wanted to go buy a hoodie. caroline and i sat around waiting and waiting and getting thirsty and hungry. finally at 2:00 pm we are at the boat launch. 5 boat trips, a few showers, and a couple hours later everyone and everything is at the campsite. the first keg is tapped and beer bong begins.

-barreling up to shore drunk as hell and busting up in an asian lady's moment of serenity with the sunset is more than amusing. staying there while you have to use a generator to recharge the dead boat battery is even better. and dancing, screaming and laughing while the sun slowly fades, killing the lady's photo op, is the best of all.

-people are fucking lazy and can’t drink like they used to. joe, geoff, tate and i headed out to the woods to get more firewood. actually, joe and geoff were hauling ass out into the woods while tate and i were leisurely following. we stopped to pee and tate decided to beam the light on me. how sweet of him. we catch up and joe found a huge dead tree to chop down. about an hour later we finally knocked the god damn thing over. we thought about leaving it so many times but just didn’t want to give up considering all the work we had already put into it. this was a huge ass fucking tree. once it was on the ground, no one from the site would come help us carry it. fucking assholes. the remainder of the night consisted of us telling everyone how fucking lazy they were over drinking games. caroline was the first to crash at 10:30 (weak) and everyone else was in bed by midnight, except for me, joe and greg. we sat around the fire and talked about random shit while we drank ourselves retarded. greg went in and out of consciousness while joe and i found faces in the burning logs.

-there are these birds called loons that live on the lake. we don’t have them down south.

-saranac lake is fucking cold. if you go camping, even though it’s the end of may, prepare for temps in the 30’s. i froze my fucking ass off people. i had a blanket. it was 35 degrees outside. i thought i was going to die. i finally just passed out.

saturday

-don’t play beer pong with people who take the game too seriously. tate and i were up against nic and i think rodney. it was nic’s turn and his ball bounced off the table and went into a random cup. nic automatically assumed this was our “side beer” although both of ours were labeled. so he thought we should have to drink something, or he won the game or some shit, even though this was just a random cup left behind by a previous player. he called on matt for clarification of the rules, and when matt confirmed that a random cup means absolutely nothing, nic quit playing and proceeded to rant and rave for at least the next hour. lame.

-pestering people enough can be a successful way to get things done. after hearing us talk about how awesome we were for chopping down the redwood, the party finally moved out to the woods to bring in the beast of a tree.

-it's fucking hilarious when people sit comfortably in crooked ass chairs. god i am easily amused.

-when you are helping carry a tree through the woods and people run over a hump and your head is about to be clamped between the tree you are carrying and tree planted in the ground, doing a few back flips to save yourself is a wonderful thing. and lying in the woods with some others to talk about how nice it would be to simply live off the land is even better.

-people who go to sleep way too early should always expect to get fucked with. always.

-if you ever go camping on saranac lake in an area that you can access by boat only, make sure that you bring way too much beer. if not, you run the risk of leaving to make a beer run on saturday night, breaking down in the middle of the lake, getting a tow back to the campsite (with no beer) and finding yourself willing to suck dick for a boat ride into town. that never happened, but the idea did part my lips. i was serious. unfortunately the people on the boat with me didn’t let me carry it through and we ran out of beer at midnight.

sunday

-people with children have a tendency to ruin the fun for everyone else.

-road sodas are always a good idea.

-some people are troopers and those are the ones to stick with. we left the lake after a weekend of binge drinking (yay), and caroline, geoff, matt and i showered then hit the bar. we practically closed the place down and it was fabulous. these are the people you know you can rely on. there's another video that could go here but i will spare you more belligerent yelling.

monday

-michigans are hot dogs with meat sauce or chili or some shit.

tuesday

-leaving to come home sucks ass. i always have the greatest times in the adirondacks. and i never want to come home.

-first class seats rock.

-you can never fully prepare yourself for a drastic change in weather. i went from the cool, lower 60’s to a 90 degree, humid hell. god the south sucks.

a new marijuana

i don't know what is in the shit that kids are smoking these days, but back when i was lighting up with a few friends we didn't have the energy to rewind the vhs to rewatch our favorite scene in half baked...much less go dig up a body to make a bong out of it's skull. weird.

10 facts of life

1. it's after 1 am
2. i am fucking wasted
3. there is no reason for this post
4. i sang two songs tonight
5. i feel like tomorrow should be saturday
6. you are awesome
7. work is going to suck tomorrow
8. i don't know when to say no
9. i wish this chair was my bed
10. my friend fifi is going to act like she knows the lead singer of radiohead at the show tomorrow...or i guess it's today
11. i am exceeding what the title of this post would have you believe
12. bums outside my window are fucking retarded
13. I am fucking retarded
14. holy fuck i am trashed
15. the earth is round
16. water is a necessity
17. jeff is pissing me off
18. wheels are round
19. thinking globally would solve so many problems
20. i am going to stop with number twenty

my new hook up

ducks-not funny
getting out of the car-not funny
snorting lines-not funny
combining all three-fucking hilarious...but i am weird so...

pics

i don't remember being in a photo booth last night. and i thought that i was at a bar the whole time, but maybe i ventured over to a carnival? either way, i found these in my purse this morning.
who is that black man??? kidding, kidding...that's my friend will. and that big white face up in the right corner is jarrett. good times.

drunk dialing

GOD i have such a problem with it. i used to have a problem with getting drunk and always trying to find coke. now i have a problem with getting drunk and apparently having an overwhelming urge to talk to some asshole that i haven't talked to in a year, or some friend who i know is asleep because they have to work in the morning, or some coworker who i usually ignore when i am sober.
what the fuck is that all about? it's like i think something profound is going to come out of my mouth after i have guzzled booze for 8 straight hours. then i wake up the next day (like right now) and wonder if i actually talked to these people or left them a message. and if i left them a message, what the fuck did it say? i am sure it was something that doesn't make me look like a retard AT ALL. no...because when i am drunk i always make perfect sense. no drunken nonsense ever slurs from this tongue. but who am i kidding. i don't really give a fuck.
but you know those stupid ass e-cards? (what the fuck does that have to do with drunk dialing??) well i found a site that has funny e-cards, with more true-to-life ways of saying hello, i love you, go fuck yourself, etc. i think this one says it all...

what's the deal w/ daddy's?

okay. daddy's american bar and grill. it's hogging the corner of 5th and Church. before i would have just said that it was located on the corner of 5th and Church, but seeing as how it hasn't been opened in weeks, there isn't a CLOSED sign, when you call the number you still hear their stupid little message, and they still have certain neon lights on (at all times) wasting energy, it is now HOGGING THE CORNER. this is a great drinking corner. one block north you have stool pigeons. one block east you have brick & barrel, the attic (not that i ever go to that meat market), madison's, etc. so, what the hell is up w/ daddys? either close the bitch down or let us come in and chug beers while gazing at all of the flat screens that you boast.

i went to daddy's for the first time in the middle of a saturday about 6 weeks ago. the CIAA tournament was held here and it was the only place that wasn't wall to wall with people who were already toasted at 3 pm. i sat at the bar and had many, many drinks (they had good beer specials). there was a huge sign about beer pong...which is the only reason i am now saddened about daddy's shutting the door.

when i was in nyc in feb i came across a bar on 14th that had a beer pong table. the game is much bigger up north than down here...or so it seems from my experience. anyways, daddy's had a big sign hanging up about beer pong wednesdays. i asked the bartender (who had on enough eye makeup to make michael jackson black again) what time it gets going. she said whenever people start playing. simple enough. see ya wednesday.TOO BAD THEY HAVE NOT OPENED THEIR DOORS SINCE.

that's fine. truth be told, i could give a shit about this place or the corner it's on. what i do care about is the fact that my hopes were up about having a weekly drinking EVENT, like when i used to go to wild wings religiously, every tuesday night, to play trivia and win buckets o beer. so, my obsessed brain wouldn't let it go. a coworker and i sat in my cube the other day and called every bar in charlotte until we found one that has beer pong and is actually open...waitstaff and all. so, dixie's, also conveniently located just a couple of blocks from my crib has beer bong on monday nights.

let's get the shit going people. let's make it huge. let's join the ranks of all the other regions in america that have been enjoying this drinking game for years. i like to drink, but what do i like even more? a competitive reason to drink, a game built around the consumption of ridiculous amounts of alcohol, and you should too! maybe if we are obnoxious enough (and with me there that's a given) we could even get some flip cup in the works. what's that? flip cup you say? oh yeah bitches.see ya monday!oh, and daddy's...go to fucking hell.

it's so easy

after being awoken by a call from a concerned coworker sunday morning, i made the decision to go a month without drinking. certain events from saturday night were described to me by this coworker, and others will forever remain hidden in the blackout chronicles. i successfully made it through sunday and monday with no booze. and now, on this lovely tuesday evening, that idea is going to shit. let's just see how easy it is to fall off the wagon. here is the short conversation my roommate and i had via aol instant messenger (like we couldn't just speak to each other). i am iltinta.

itinta (6:29:24 PM): i want to drink
dividingcanaan8 (6:31:33 PM): ha
dividingcanaan8 (6:35:22 PM): if only it was possible for you to have a few beers, get a little buzz, and come home
iltinta (6:38:05 PM): i know right
dividingcanaan8 (7:13:07 PM): so??
iltinta (7:13:19 PM): i got to go to the bathroom

then we became aware of the functioning of our mouths as tools for communicating.

me: i will be ready in 7 minutes
him: are you serious?
me: yeah, i decided to stop thinking about the decisions i make
him: haha
me: it's like i am my old self again...like before i went to rehab!

wow. i and now it's after midnight. i fucking love my life.

rip

my camera died this weekend. i am such a neglectful parent. yes, my camera is like my child. it goes everywhere with me, so i guess it's more important than a child. thank god it's not an actual child because i sure as hell dropped the fucking thing when i was tanked, which jammed the lens. so yesterday i decided to take it apart. little did i know that the different components of the camera are wedged in their shell as tightly as tetris blocks, and once you remove 80 microscopic screws the whole fucking thing unravels. but i like the way it looks inside, so i am going to keep it.

anyways, just sharing my sorrows. services will be held over beverages some time this week. although i said i wasn't going to drink for a month. but that's a whole other topic.

a well deserved buzz (the filling in the middle of the car saga)

despite the car drama, josh and i made it into the city before midnight. and in nyc, this means there were 4 more hours to drink at the nearest bar. we were staying with josh's friend chad, and it just happened to be his birthday. his cousin tj was also in town, and with all the other people we were supposed to be meeting up with the night was sure to get pretty ridiculous. after the day i had i was ready to get to a new level of drunkeness, although i am sure that would result in death. but anyone who knows me understands. for those that don't, i look at drinking like an olympic sport. it's something that i put a lot of effort into. it makes me happy, and gets the adrenaline flowing. i don't think i deserve any kudos for this, i am aware it's not healthy.

upon arriving in the city, we drop the rental off at a parking garage and take a cab to chad's. of course everyone wants to meet and greet for a little while. fortunately there was a bottle of jameson to entertain me. we mosey to the closest bar and the chaos begins. shortly thereafter several more friends met up with us...and we were all pretty buzzed within no time. when we decided to make our way out of the bar, a couple of the guys wanted pizza. i walked to the store and picked up some adult beverages to make sure there was enough lubricant when we got back to chad's place. but then some other guys that had taken a bus from boston met up with us, and in our drunken haze we apparently thought the sidewalk was just as good a place as any to continue the party.

i got in a friendly screaming argument with a guy i had just met...me taking the stance that dragons are not real, him trying to convince me otherwise. don't ask because i really don't have an explanation. all i know is that there, in the east village, i was the loud southern bitch yelling repeatedly, DRAGONS ARE NOT REAL! he had a much better refutation (if you believe in fantasy shit), but everything he said was just jibberish to me. and i have no clue what anyone else was discussing at the time. suddenly, a substantial amount of water came pouring down right on this girl's head (she was the friend of a sister of a friend of ours, hence the reason she is "this girl" rather than someone with a name). we all thought that awning above was holding too heavy of a load resulting in the down pour, or at least that was my brillian theory. it served as a slight distraction, but really just something else for us to laugh about.

we finally walked the whole half-block back to chad's place where we crammed about 6 people in a room about the size of a bathroom in a single wide trailer. we were cozy on the twin sized bed and enjoying our drunken nonsense. i know the jameson got passed around...so that was good. when i went to sleep i was on a couch with a guy that the before mentioned friend's sister brought from nj. so yeah, i didn't know him. we were trying to share a towel as a blanket. i ended up moving to the twin sized bed, which was much easier to share. good times.

the next morning we were all gathered around chugging water and trying to piece together the previous night, of course laughing about the water that showered our friend. tj decides to inform us that it wasn't water that mysteriously dropped from the awning at that precise moment, but actually a pail of water that some bitch dumped out of her window. apparently she was also screaming for us to shut up. wow...imagine how pissed she was when she realized that we thought water was just spontaneously dropping out of the sky from an unexplained source. we never imagined that we might be pissing someone off...not at 3 or 4 or whatever time it was in the morning. but seriously lady, you fucking live in manhattan and it's friday. go fuck yourself.

josh went off to meet up with some more friends that were coming into town, and everyone remaining at the house decided to grab some lunch, after which we were ready to find a bar. josh tells us to meet him somewhere on broadway, so we do. but then we realize when we get there that we are following them around on their mission to grab some lunch. there were about 15 people total, so as you can imagine, coming to a unanimous decision would not be easy, not to mention the fact that 4 of us had already eaten and were ready to belly up to a bar. so we split off on mission, get an afternoon buzz. now, in all the times that i have gone to nyc, i can say that the easiest thing to do (0ther than want to kill a slow pedestrian) is find a bar. for some reason on this particular day, it started to seem like an impossibility. we walked for blocks and blocks and there was nothing. was this the dry bermuda triangle of manhattan? what the fuck? we even turned around at one point to go to place where we had previously seen billiard tables, figuring that surely they would have some liquor, then realized upon a closer look that it was a billiard STORE. so now, i am getting irritated because i should be 3 drinks in.

we finally come to a place on 14th called king's head (i think). we walk in and it's a dark, narrow bar. not much to the place at all, which made it perfect. we take our stools and order some drinks. sounds simple enough, but you would have thought that we were speaking another language to the preppy ass NYU bartendar because he couldn't get the shit right to save his life. he told me that well drinks were on special for $4...to which i responded, "great, give me a tequila". he says, "what kind" and i say, whatever your well tequila is. then he explains that well DRINKS are $4, not just the liquor. so i kindly explained to him that i wanted a tequila DRINK, hold the mixer. that was a language he apparently understood. either that or he suddenly realized that he is an idiot.

the four of us sit there, playing the crack machine, drinking, carrying on. i walk back to the bathroom and there is a single table with no chairs around it, and i think for a second that this is odd. but my a.d.d. takes over and by the time i am about of the pisser i don't even remember the table being there, or notice it in second passing. so i belly back up to the bar and ask for another DRINK OF TEQUILA. a few minutes later a crowd of people rushes in, starts ordering pitchers and asks for the bag of balls. bag o balls? what, where are we? then i see the transaction. the bartender hands him a bag of ping pong balls and several plastic cups. my eyes dart to the back of the bar and meet the crowd around the table...the BEER PONG TABLE. oh my god...it's my dream. i never knew such a bar existed! i mean, i knew there were bars that had tournaments...but beer bong all day, everyday? i am in heaven. too bad my dumbass didn't pick up on this before the crowd got there. we waited for a while hoping to get a chance, but then our phones started blowing up with calls from the rest of the group, so we decided we would reserve this place for later in the weekend.

from there everyone broke up and went to hotels and hostels. i hung around chad's, showered, sat around, drank some more. chad finally woke up around 5, tj had just woken from a power nap. we sat and talked and drank and smoked and did whatever. then josh calls around 6. he and the rest of the crew are at a bar called one & one, on 1st and 1st. they have half price drinks until 7...so we decide we better hurry the fuck up. we get there and now the 6 bar tables that the server but together for the 12 people who are already there, just weren't enough...so they add two more. we took over the place. within about 30 minutes of my arrival we had already had 3 shots and i was on my second double vodka. yummy. one & one is not that big, so you can imagine the loud table of 15 of us and how delightful of a scene that was. then, 3 more showed up.

as the hours passed the place filled up, strangers started stealing our seats each time a couple of us went outside for a smoke, but who could blame them? it's not like we hadn't already been there for 5 hours. most of the goings on at that bar are a blur to me. i know that an ex of mine who lives right outside of the city was coming to meet me, but thought i was lying to him about the name of the place. because after all, you must know every nook and cranny in the east village seeing as how you live in NEW JERSEY and all. so yeah, there was a ridiculous number of calling and texting going on. shouting over the crowd and sending words that didn't make sense because i was seeing double. i guess i finally put my phone away because i forgot about him until he texted me at 2 am...oops. now, 2 months later i had to send him a link to the damn bar so he would finally see that it actually exists rather than thinking i am the one playing games. god, why the fuck do i bother?

at some point tj, chad and i had had enough of the place. it went from a laid back bar/restaurant to an overfilled sweat shop with more bimbos than the las vegas strip. we walked out of the bar and felt famous, receiving hugs and waves and kisses. but that's just because part of our inebriated crowd was outside smoking and alarmed by the fact that we were leaving so abrubtly. and seriously, we got a cab faster than i have ever seen anyone get one anywhere, ever. we didn't even stop walking from the time we exited the bar. it's like the cabbie knew we were coming. and this was only exciting because we were drunk, it was freezing, and usually on a saturday night at this intersection getting a cab would have taken some work.

anyways, the three of us head back to the apartment and kept drinking until around 5 or 6 am. i started to fizzle out and felt bodies moving around me. come to find out, the tab that we left behind was $1000. nice. that's a lot of booze.

sunday rolls around and i was planning on trying to be somewhat good. i mean, i did have to wake up early the next day (like i do everyday), but this time to drive, not drink. well, of course the plan on behaving went sour by about noon. i actually don't even remember most of this day. i know chad was working so josh, tj and i ended up going to the bar at his work. when he got off we headed to the bar near his crib. then, once the buzz kicked in i knew what i had to do...PLAY BEER PONG! tj was such a sport. he walked with me 3 times i think to that bar and each time the table was taken. the last time we finally sat down and had a drink. i think he figured out after a weekend of knowing me that i wasn't going to let it die...or maybe he just really wanted to play too. either way, it never happened.

so, that was the weekend in a nutshell. it was a great time, as usual. too bad the way there and the way back ended up being hellish nightmares. okay...that's a little dramatic, but it's my fucking story. i am moving to the big apple bitches...and the time can't come soon enough!

do you know where your husband is?

if there's one thing i love, it's drunk people. they are funny. sometimes they are just fucking assholes, but even assholes crack me up. one thing i hate is cheaters. (i will save that tangent for another day). i also love my camera. not the actual object itself, but it's ability to capture drunk people, assholes, and cheaters. oh, and i love living uptown, where drunk cheating assholes can be witnessed from the comfort of my own apartment.

okay...so i was drunk myself on this night (i think). this is the girl that lives below us, or did. i think she moved out the other day. apparently she had lost her key to the building.

picture one: this is the view from my living room. so yeah. where's the yellow tape? looks like a fucking crime scene. let me also mention they already climbed a gate to get to where they are.

picture two: and now we zoom in. why doesn't that douche bag pick her ass up. she's probably got a fucking concussion by the way.

picture three: oh, and the story comes to life. what is that i see? a wedding ring? wow, what a kind caring man to make sure this young drunk bitch makes it home alright. i wonder if the next morning they had a moment of clarity when they realized that they fucked each other's brains out right after laying in the urine of many bums.

picture four: the little engine that could. that's right, even with the hairline fracture obtained minutes before, she is ready to try, try again.


video...woo hoo! now we will see their second attempt and witness the emotional breakdown of a drunk girl who realizes that she is no longer strong enough. nothing like a crying drunk woman for a drunk MARRIED man to take advantage of.

after that they gave up and walked back towards the road to try their next option. the guy had already been yelling at me with each flash of the camera, but when i saw her walk away from her glasses i had to pipe in. i yelled, "you forgot your glasses!" the cheating asshole tried to coax her to come the fuck on, but even in her drunken haze, my downstairs neighbor returned for her frames. moments later they were beating the shit out of the front door and i kindly went down to let them in. how fucking sweet of me. from that point i assume they slept in the foyer, or the laundry room. but who the fuck cares. it was funny.

somewhere there is a wife wondering why her husband's white shirt was so dirty when all he did was go out to watch the game with his boys. she will figure it out in a month or so when she has her first outbreak of herpes.

lightening bug, bon 05

So, Kellie and I were outside enjoying a smoke and this wonderful spring-like weather (Merry Christmas, by the way), when a little lady bug landed on my sunglasses. I am delighted by the visitor who has flown in to bring me some good luck. I think quickly about buying a lottery ticket while moving the little guy to my palm. He begins to nibble away at my flesh, enjoying a late lunch for himself.

This reminds me of an event at Bonaroo 2005 when I was fucked out of my mind. And not just, "hey, it's Monday night and once again the town drunk (that's me) is cocked". More like, "hey, it's some fucking day on a Tennesee farm and I am surrounded by a bunch of pseudo hippies that think they are cool because they are wearing Target's recreation of a vintage Led Zeppelin shirt, so why not put several synthetics in your system and experience life on a new plane". God Damn that was a long sentence. Anyways, a lightening bug landed on my hand. I loved the bug, I studied him, I made him my little Bonaroo pet (remember, all the drugs).

It was fucking 95 degrees at about 8 in the morning, yet i was wrapped in a blanket shivering and talking to my little bug. THEN, I realized, w/ my own fucking eyes (that temporarily had magnifying powers), that the little fucker was tugging at and eating my skin! This made me worry and I expressed my concern to the group…and by group I mean 6 individuals, 4 who had just risen from a decent night's sleep in the surrounding tents, and 2 that were in the same state of mind that I was in, and had just gotten done watching 3 fuck heads smoke crack in our tent.

Everyone laughed and acted like I was crazy. "Brooke, lightening bugs don't bite", they smirked.

I was persistent, but tried to stay cool, reminding myself that for the past 17 hours I had been shoveling drugs into my body like a Mexican crossing the border. Finally, after not being convinced by everyone's repeated declarations that lightening bugs don't bite, Corrine (bless her hippy ass) walked over to me to investigate. She moved her nose an inch from my hand and declared, "Oh my God, he IS biting you!" Well friends, this confirmation was all it took for me to leap to my feet and go into a complete state of hysteria. I was flinging my hand around like a fucking queen strutting the streets of San Fran trying to rid myself of this demon bug who was trying to suck my blood. It was a scene…there were water works, yelps as though I was watching my first born get thrown into a mulcher, and enough spastic motions to burn more calories than I can on the elliptical for 12 hours.

SO, I am reliving this event outside, Kellie listens intently but I am sure in her head is saying, "should I report this girl to HR, I mean, this is a DRUG FREE employer". Anyways, I am enjoying a smoke and the warm sun, as I watch the lady bug nibble away at my hand and BLAM…HE TAKES A POOP ON MY FREAKIN PALM!!! Was he saying, "thanks for the lunch and great story lady, I show my appreciation by leaving excrements for you", or maybe he was saying, "how dare you talk for 10 minutes about another bug when I have graced you with my prescence", or perhaps he was listening intently and saying, "god, this lady is so dramatic the end of that story just made me poop, let me scurry off before she notices"?

Perhaps it was the fact that my skin was emanating alcohol from the night before and it gave the little fucker the shits. Fucking lightweight god damn lady bugs.