Happy November 3rd everyone! What happened on November 3rd in history? Nothing. Oh wait, The Wizard of Oz was first televised. Wahoo!!
Anyway, Monday night Anthony invited me to come to the big city to be his date to the Big City Butts basketball game, to sit in his company box, with him and all his bosses and prospective engineering clients blah blah boring. I jumped at the opportunity because #1 free booze #2 free food #3 free basketball.
Really though, this is what’s super lame. Anthony always asks me to be his “backup.” I have been invited to his company Christmas party the last 3 years in a row as a “backup.” Like, this is how it goes, “Hey Gizzy, do you have any plans on December 24th for the rest of your life? Would you mind being my “backup” date to my company Christmas party every single year in case [insert whore of the moment] can’t come?” Of course the last 3 years I said yes, even though Anthony lives 4 hours away. And I still have yet to go to the company Christmas party. I told him this summer not to even bother asking me to be the backup this year because I’m not into it. I’m finding my own company Christmas party to go to. But now that I have mingled with the best of Big City’s green engineer’s I might consider being his backup plan again.
Last year I asked Anth why I’m the backup, because lets face the facts, I am a wayyyy better time than any girl he is going to ask to go, which conveniently the past 3 Christmas parties has been this girl we went to college with named Jenn. JENN! What a boring name. Boring name, for a boring girl. He agreed that I’m the best time ever but put it ever so gently, “Jenn is going to put out, you won’t. Gotta get my bang in.” Touche my friend, touche.
So anyway, lately Anth has been dating this girl Smashley, he asked Smashley to go to the game first and she backed out the night before. Who does he call? The back up plan. This guy! Of course I was doing nothing so I agreed to drive up and go with him, basically the most exciting thing I’ve done in the past 3 months.
When Anthony and I were chit chatting about how much fun we were going to have the morning of the game he laid down a few ground rules for me:
1. No taking shots
2. Always use utensils (So unnecessary, I’m a drunk, not a barbarian. Although, this picture of me in college throwing a chair down the hallway at Anthony’s frat house does raise a good point:
3. Wear something “showy”
4. Don’t start trouble for “that blog”
5. Don’t embarrass him
He makes it sound like I am 2 years old and running wild, coloring on the walls, and whipping my little wiener out to pee in people’s glasses. I don’t mean to toot my own horn here, but I take pride in my professionalism. If I had to say something about my level of professionalism it would be that I am too professional. I mean I know I talk big talk and drink big drinks but lets be serious here, I’m not going to eff up his job. And it hurts my feelings that so few of my friends take me seriously. I am a real person!
We arrive at the game, I’ve got on my “showy” professional dress with a martini in one hand and my quellazaire in the other laughing like this every time someone makes a sophisticated joke, “BRU-HA HA HA HA!” and petting my mink shoulder fur. Shortly before the game started I ventured out to get little souvenir for myself since it was my first Big City Butts game. In honor of Lucky, and her fallen ones, I come back with two foam fingers. One for me and one for Anth. And Anth was not too happy about this.
Apparently, when you’re in a club box with people in suits, drinking Crown Royal XR, and talking about “the market,” it’s not cool to be waving a foam finger in the air, or actually watching the game.
So needless to say Anthony shunned my foam finger and made me hide them in the corner before anyone saw. I really wish I would’ve seen this coming so I could have taken a picture of his expression when I walked through the door with a foam finger on each hand raising the roof.
Other then that the game was a good time, the Big City Butts won, a hundred and something to ninety something I think. All I know is that when we walked in I got handed a little coupon book and within the coupon book was a coupon, if the Butts score over 100 points I get a free big mac. I totes made Anth stop and get me my big mac on the way home since all they had to eat in the club box was pulled pork, steak, and fancy food that does not make a sporting event a sporting event. At one point I told him I was going to get a hot dog and he practically groveled at my feet asking me not to. I also threw cheese cubes at opposing team fans off the balcony, I mean it was not a big deal. Nobody saw, since I was out on the balcony alone watching the game while Anthony was inside discussing how to make toilets green.
Also, let me say that the other women in this box were like ew vom. I’m talking they had on Jackie O suits and kept talking about their limos, butlers, and how their kids were in preparatory schools in Connecticut, and how they would JUST DIE if they were poor and had to go to public school.
After the game I told Anth about these convos I heard going on and he bounced back telling me that one of their kids won some kind of national nobel peace prize for spelling or some shit. I automatically asked if the kid was adopted and asian because white kids aren’t that smart. Who knew!
I spent most of yesterday rolling around on Anth’s couch watching Maury while he went to work and did damage control. I’m thinking I was probably compared to Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. They definitely think he hired me.