Tag Archives: bachelor party

To Gizzy’s house: part III.

When we woke up the next morning (4th of July Eve), we were nice and hungover.

But that didn’t stop us from our original plans—hitting up the beach. so we put on our swimsuits and headed that way. Parking seemed to be an issue, so we ended up on the other side of the beach, but we found a little restaurant, and as long as they have Bloodys, it’s all good.  They even had little palm trees and Jamaican aluminum bongo music.  I felt like I was in the tropics.  Ahhh vacation.

Well they didn’t have bloodys. Or any alcohol. Why? Because the bartender was late to work. And HE is the only one who can make a drink, pour it, whatever.  I asked about our server pouring us a draft beer.  I know he can do it, because to bring us that beer he has to have a liquor license… that means he can effing pour it too.   He said no he couldn’t, because they’re on the beach there’s weird laws.  Lies.

Christ.

Thank the high heavens he showed up to work shortly, because I was cranky.  When Lucky got her bloody she was able to precisely pin point the kind of Bloody mix they were using, it was not her fave.

As we waited, I was watching this lady across the restaurant who was eating an egg white omelet with fruit with a fork and knife. It was really pissing me off.  Only after it took her 35 minutes to take the first bite.

Anyway, after lunch, we wanted to catch a baseball game. So we got ready, and start trying to get a cab. Which doesn’t work until after we’d walked a good 15 blocks.

Once we get to the game, we find that it’s sold out and it’s already the 4th inning, so there are no scalpers.

Effin sweet! It seemed like nothing was going our way that day. Now that I look back, I should have insisted that we have a drink in one of the bars around the sadium, during the game the bars are almost just as fun as actually being there. But we were pissed.  I had heard about a block party going on, so we got back in the cab and headed that way. I prayed this would work out and at least we’d get a few beers.

And it was a success—the place was packed, but there was tons of food, beer, music, and free prizes—including Disney temporary tats that were freakin’ cool.  Not to mention we made a few friends and got a free cheese burger – which was… DA BOMB.  Hello 2002.

So we stay at this place until 6 or so, and we head toward the train station to catch a ride back. However, we find a cool little bar near the station and decide to continue our beer buzz with a round of brews and shots. I would say everyone has probably been to or seen the bar we stopped at.  Does The Tilted Kilt ring a bell to anyone?  Sometimes you can get lucky and you won’t have to look at a bunch of flubby nasty girls.  I mean neither Lucky or myself are into girls but if they’re going to be prancing around in their bra and underwear they can at least not make us want to hurl.  Anyway, this place had nasty fat tatted up girls.  Ugh.  So when we’re downtown near the financial district you can imagine that most of the guys aren’t looking for fat hedge hogs so idk what the deal was.

After that, we manage to get our drunk selves a seat on the train.

We get home, the guys are there, making all kinds of food on the grill, (supposively Anth made us hot dogs and we ate them??) but we then decide it’s absolutely necessary to put on the Disney tats, tramp-stamp style. So I put Gizzy’s on for her (all of the main Disney characters, holding hands) and she put mine on (pirates!).

Here’s mine: Best tat EVER!

We then joined the guys on the roof for some drinking games, a roast to the bachelor, and some AMAZING fireworks from a random person in the alley!

The fireworks were complete with floating lanterns JUST LIKE in Tangled.  I think I kept saying that every time they let another one go.  I don’t know how I have friends over the age of 6, I don’t know.

We mosied back down to the kitchen because I was craving some Cherry Garcia.  At this moment the bachelor and an old flame of mine who was in attendance, who is ALSO engaged wander into the room.  Some how it gets brought up that I didn’t get invited to either of their weddings, Lucky makes them feel like shit about it and tells them their wives must be insecure and they say because it’s because I’m attractive and it would make the bride feel bad or some bullshit.  I don’t know, it’s whatever.  That’s an argument/story for another day.

When this convo begins to fizzle another one of the guys from the party joins us.  A guy who Lucky and I had already written off because he was a big douche.  His name was Bill, he was the quarterback at our college, and he didn’t shower or change his clothes all weekend and Lucky and I told him he smelled.  He rebuttled by asking us to come out with them to which one of us made a snide remark saying we wouldn’t be caught dead near him and he basically called us ugly fat whores by saying, “Anyone who knows me would know as soon as they saw you two that you guys are NOT my type.”  Oh really? Well thin, cute, and funny must not be your type then, ass.

Later, more of the guys said they wanted to go out and we should join them. After a few minutes of persuasion, we bolt to Gizzy’s room, change clothes, and what? The guys are gone.

Lucky, remember when I called Anth and he didn’t answer?  He later told me that he was still at the apartment in his room changing.  Apparently he was left too and never went out.  I think it’s a good thing we didn’t go out with the 4 guys that actually went out.  Yikes.

Oh well, we walk down the street to a bar. There were all of five people inside, but the second we sit down, this chick comes up and introduces herself—meet Miranda. She has a boyfriend, but also a single guy in tow…yeah, he was kind of a loser.  I got her number, we were supposed to be friends because I have none and she was going to introduce me to all her single male friends, still hasn’t happened.  I don’t even think I could recognize her the beer goggles were so thick.

Anyway, she used her boyfriend’s credit card to buy us a round of shots, and Gizzy and I damn near slept on the bar. It was then we realized we’d been walking around (and drinking) since we woke up that morning. Miranda definitely thought we were lame, especially when we turned down her offer to late night when the bartender called last call.  I was tempted, because I think they said something about playing board games.  And I love board games, but in the adult world board games probably means snort crack so it’s probably good we didn’t go.

So, we walk back to Gizzy’s…

TO BE CONTINUED…

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To Gizzy’s house: part I.

Alright, so after my lone night of love in Texas, I caught my plane to Gizzy’s house and arrived looking cuter than I should have.  This is true, I showed up in my jammies and the first thing I asked Lucky was if she had showered at Airport Matt’s- you wouldn’t have guessed she had spent the past 24 hours drinking in an airport and sleeping at a stranger’s apartment with nothing but the clothes on her back by the way she looked. 

I found Gizzy in the baggage claims/complaint line because my original flight was United/Continental, and I flew in on American. So I knew my bag wouldn’t be there, but I also knew it was in the airport, just not at the current terminal.  This is what we call teamwork.  We saved ourselves a good 3o minutes by me getting in the line as soon as I got there.  Although, I had planned on preparing a giant “Lucky, Welcome To My City!” poster to hold up at security when she got off the plane had we not had to deal with the giant cunt American Airlines.

Well, the lady at American Airlines didn’t understand that. So she filed a claim to find my luggage. It was completely unnecessary, but I’d been awake since 4:30 and just wanted to get out of there.  She also didn’t understand that tan=beige while Lucky described her bag.

So, we finally get to Gizzy’s, I meet the roomies, and we see the bachelor party was in full-swing. Holla! It was 10am and approximately 15 guys were standing in my kitchen ripping shots.  Sometimes I do enjoy living with boys, this was one of those times, they immediately offered us a beer and a shot.  I even saw a few guys I had never met that I’d be interested in having a random make out with.

Gizzy and I talked some, and she had birthday presents waiting, which I happily ripped into—ahem, one of the gifts was a wine glass that holds an entire bottle of wine. And yes, we put this to the test later that night.  We are…awesome.

While we wait on my luggage, we decided to go to brunch. At that point, I wasn’t too worried about my luggage, I just wanted to make sure I would have it that night so I would have all the proper supplies for a shower and a nice night out for the birthday.

So we go to this bar, where there was absolutely no one, but we order some awesome bloody marys (garnished with sausage) and eggs.

During our lunch discussion, we talked shop—guys, parents, and then…my luggage. I called the number the lady at American gave me and come to find that they “haven’t found” my luggage. It had been 3 hours. Come. On. So, we decide to go home, call Continental/United and see if they know where my bag is.

The guy is all, “oh yeah it’s at the airport at the Continental terminal.” Surprisingly the most helpful person she spoke with to this day.

Sweet. So we hop in the car and head back to the airport. We get to the Continental/United terminal and walk up to a big desk that says UNITED on it. The lady takes her sweet ass time addressing our presence and finally askshow she can help us.

I tell her I’m looking for my bag and hand her my baggage claim ticket.

“Oh, well this was a UNITED flight so you need to go to the United desk.”

“Ummm it says United right behind you.”

“Yeah but it says Continental right HERE,” she says, pointing to a small, paper sign from a printer.  Think Vanna White pointing, she had definitely rehearsed that shit at home.

“Ok sweet, where is the United desk?”

“Since it’s a United flight I can’t help you.”

“Yeah, I heard you. Where’s the United desk?” (This just makes me laugh, and also reminds me of a story that’s yet to come when Lucky tells a hostess at a restaurant “I heard you, I’m not retarded.”  BAHH! Good times, good times.)

She points to a small desk about 20 steps away. So we go there. And once again, the lady treats me like I have half a brain.

“How can I help you?”

“Yes, I’m looking for my bag.”

“A claim?”

“Umm I don’t know, just looking for my bag.”

“Okay, that’s called a CL-AIM. What city you coming from?”

“Houston.”

“All Houston bags are at terminal 7.”

“Even if it came last night?”

“Look in the cage.”

Thanks for the tremendous help. I could see my bag from the desk, so we walked over and waited for her to unlock the cage.

As we walked to Gizzy’s car with our prize, I realized the lady didn’t scan my bag or check it in. Making it still technically a lost bag—American Airlines would never know. And I didn’t tell them. So yeah, I’ve still been getting messages on my phone saying they’ve been unable to locate my luggage.  As have I, it took over a week for a real person to call.

Anyway, we get back to the hizzy, I change my clothes and we decide to go up on the roof for a round of drinking games—the party really needed to get started. We weren’t up there for more than 20 minutes, when we heard guys coming in the house 4 stories down.

Naturally, we race down into the kitchen to find 4 random dudes from the bachelor party, ready to light shit up.  I introduce myself to them as “Hi I’m Gizzy, I live here, who are you?” We find out that it’s the groom’s little brother – which is what I had suspected.  Him and his friends are all 20.  SA-WEET!  They were at the apartment drinking to kill time while they waited on one of the guy’s girlfriend to show up and while the rest of the bachelor party was at a baseball game.  Ahh 20 year olds, so much to learn about life.  I’d hate to be the d-bag that invited a girl to a bachelor party.  Having Lucky and I there was bad enough, but they couldn’t do anything about that.

“LADIES YOU HAVE TO TAKE SHOTS WITH US!!!” They said.

I mean these guys were in college, but shit, they were all over the place. It took them at least an hour to get my name right, like I know it’s a weird name but it’s not difficult once you hear it – it’s not JIZZY, like you jizzed your pants or Gisele like the model, it’s Gizzy as in Gizzy get your roll on.  I still don’t know that they ever learned Lucky’s name – she was “Birthday Girl” for the better part of the day.  After telling us we needed to take shots a babillion times, it still took them forever to get organized enough to pour 6 shots. And boy, were they so excited to get to drink warm Smirnoff…

TO BE CONTINUED…

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The Rhyming Big City Adventures of Gizzy and Lucky

A poem to re-hash our weekend in the big city, full stories to come later:


Twas the night before Lucky’s birthday when she was set to arrive

Airline complications occurred and she wished she could drive

For she was stuck, overnight, in a land called Texas

Lucky for her she met a chap at a bar who drove a pretty sweet Lexus

With only the clothes on her back, the day of her birth she arrived

For she had made it, thank god she survived

It was time to drink, beer one, beer two, not yet

For Lucky’s bag was still on the jet

A second trip to the airport started the day off right

We found Lucky’s bag, it had made the flight

Back to the apartment we went

Where we found an underage gent

“Take a shot, take a shot” he spattered

With all these young boys, we were sure to get flattered

We drank the day old, then washed our hair up right

For it was time to hit the town for the night

We had an occasion to celebrate, our dear friend Lucky

There was no way this night could be sucky

Off to dinner we went, a sushi place, our fave

Get Lucky a birthday cake, that there, the chocolate wave

Dinner was good, now to concoct phase II in our head

I know! Let’s paint the town red

To bar 1 we went, the drinks were ordered, the atmosphere was set

Too bad there were no boys around to make us wet (ehhh…sorry, there was 1 but he didn’t rhyme)

Bar 2, on Gizzy, on Lucky, on Cabby, and fro

Keep these drinks flowing so we can act like a ho

Danced the night away we sure did

At Bar 3 we met a man dressed as a kid

His name was Danny, and a billionaire he claimed to be

Then he fell, taking the table down, and banging his knee

We felt good, just enough beers to blur the lights

Lets head back to my place and start some fights

To my apartment we went, not sure what we’d find

We walked in and saw a guy’s behind

Someone’s in my bed, who could it be?

An old friend, wake up, come play mouse trap with me

Continue drinking we did as we set up the game

And heard stories that would surely ashame

One last surprise before we call it a night

A birthday cake, 26 candles gleaming with light

There were just enough people to sing her a song

Blew out the candles Lucky did and wished for a dong

Off to bed we go, an early day it will be

We have lots of new attractions and boys to see!

Day 2 began with a flutter

Thank god the smell of alcohol didn’t make us shutter

We left for a ball game, who would win, we don’t know!

As it was just our luck, today the cab business was slow

We walked, and walked, and finally got a ride

We arrived at the game gleaming with pride

Looked around we did, for a scalper with tickets

It was not our day, all we heard were crickets

Back in the cab we went, onward to a festival we go!

We were ready to see the beer flow

The beers were all drank, the food was all eaten

Next up, to the sub-way, lets hope we don’t get beaten

Onward we marched on the way to the train, where we found a small pub

We walked in and what did we see? Girls, with boobies and flub

A beer and a shot we had

Until we decided it was time to return to my pad

To my abode we arrived

To find nothing, but a bunch of guys who were deprived

They begged us to drink, so drink we did

Until we got drunk

And along came a punk

Bill was his name

Football was his fame

But, he was a douche and lame

Next it was time for a roast

The groom to be, step up, he thought it was a toast

We all said our piece, and the boom boom started

It’s not what you think, no one farted

For they were fireworks, right there

We got lucky none landed in our hair

We all watched in amazement, for they were the best fireworks ever!

Well, that’s done, on to the next endeavor

On to the bars we go

We still haven’t acted like a ho

All dolled up we got

We looked damn hot

Down the stairs we went

To find nothing, but a guy with a weird accent

We had been left, oh well, these fools won’t ruin our fun

We were still going out, in our mind we won

At the bar we sat with our drinks in hand

When along came a girl, she wanted to be our frand (Um, I know… I’m lame)

Her name was Miranda and we loved all the shots she bought us

If we had only knew, her boyfriend would make a fuss

We closed down the bar and trotted home

Passed out in bed and silenced the phone

In the morning we awoke ready to start the day

We gathered our things and were off to play

We arrived at the beach to celebrate the USA

We drank some more, fought with some kids, and peed on the beach, hey hey!

The day was over and it was time for the fireworks

We walked and walked until we arrived, we sat down with our drinks and put on a smirk

We watched the fireworks in awe

Then trampled inside hoping not to fall

We got some dinner, some wine, and we on our way

We arrived back home, for Lucky was ready to lay

The next morning arrived and some sad pups we were

It was Lucky’s last day, I sure would miss her

We went to the carnival and rode some rides

We were quite proud, this weekend we made great strides

Off to the airport we went, to tell Lucky goodbye

She hopped on her plane, she was ready to fly…

 

THE END

 

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Hold tight kids!

A post is on it’s way… a RHYMING post summarizing mine and Lucky’s adventures while she was here.  But you know what, wordpress deleted (or maybe I forgot to save it?) all the hard work I did last night so it’s only halvsie ready.  But everyone get excited and let the anticipation build….

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Meet Anthony, my whore of a guy friend.

Anthony is my best guy friend, we met in college and have seen each other through the best and worst of times.  I already know what you’re thinking, why don’t you date him? No.  Not going to happen, let me tell you why.

I know entirely too many gritty details about his sexual escapades and drunken nights and he mine, if we got married and had to get a divorce we would have to kill each other before we could take the information we have shared to the court system.  Anthony would be a catch for any other girl though, he is a successful engineer, cute, well mannered, family-oriented italian.  All of my friends swoon over him, even after he had to get plastic surgery on his face because I locked him out of my apartment.

Ok story on that, Anthony came to visit me, he went out to the bars with some douchers who did not include me.  Made it a point to say, “Don’t lock me out.”  Someone did, probably me.  I didn’t hear him knocking or calling and the next thing I know I’m texting him in the a.m. and he is telling me he’s going to the hospital because he got into a bit of a scuffle.  Then the next series of texts is that they’re going to do some labs and what not, so I hopped in my car.  Get to the hospital and not only is Anthony in the hospital, he is in the intensive care unit.  Yes, I am aware I’m a flaming piece of shit.  After chatting/flirting with the doctors they had determined Anthony had gotten hit by a car.  He couldn’t remember anything because he was so shit faced but the whole right side of his body was beat up.  That’s right, homeboy doesn’t remember getting hit by the car. Welcome to my circle of friends. He had to have surgery to repair his kidney and had to have plastic surgery to repair a bone in his face.  Basically I sold my soul to the devil after this and told Anthony if he ever needed anything, I mean anything he could always count on the Gizenator. It was technically my fault and all since he was staying at my place, therefore I am responsible for his well being. Bj? Ok be there in 10.  Someone to do your laundry? How about I take it to the dry cleaners?  You need a ride home from a bar? I’m there.  He’s never asked me to do anything sexual but pretty much everything else he has taken me up on, what a gentleman. The only good thing about this is that this wasn’t my first time meeting Anthony’s parents so they were a little more forgiving than if I had just been some rando girl he met at a bar. I had already won them over at Anthony’s family graduation dinner when I told Anth’s mom I amored her outfit. That’s love in Italian. Not really, but she liked my effort.

Anyway,  I’m introducing you to my bff with a penis because we had what might be the greatest conversation ever today about his recent trip to Vegas for our friend Rory’s bachelor party and I needed to share, ASAP.  So here it is. Information I already know going into this conversation: Anthony and bachelor party crew spent over 10 grand at The Bank (the nightclub inside the Bellagio hotel) and that he had gotten a strippers number at some point in the trip.

A: Got a new bb after Vegas….

G: AHAHA did you lose your old one in a stripper’s vagina?

A: No, I don’t know what I was thinking.  I guess the girl wasn’t AS filthy as the rest.

G: Well, still.  She’s a stripper.

A: She lovvvvveed me.

G: I mean, it’s a stripper in Vegas.  They love everyone.

A: Even after I got everyone kicked out.

G: Those the professionals, I don’t know what you were expecting.  How did you get everyone kicked out?

A: I had been telling all these chicks no all night.  #1 because I was paying for Rory #2 because 1 is enough.  And then one bitch comes by, spicy latina, and she’s doing her thang and I told her no at least 6 times, I was not paying for a dance.  Pretty clear.  She gave me all her sales pitches, just really pulling out all the stops. Must not have been a lucrative night for her.

G: Did she offer you an outside of the pants bj?

A: No she just went for it eventually.

G: This is gross.

A: I’m kidding.  Not really, but she finally gave up and was like well how about a preview dance and maybe one of your friends will see.

G: So let me get this right, you liked what you saw so instead of paying the stripper money you got her number so you could get it for free???!!!!

A: No, I got the number of a different stripper, but yeah you are getting the point.  I didn’t pay when she was done so she went and got all her fellas and they kept telling me to pay for an hour and were pushing me toward some room and I was like honestly man I’d rather just leave these girls are garb.

G: Did this all happen before or after you spent 10K at the Bellagio?

A: Oh this was the night before.  At like 5pm.

G: Jesus. Christ.

A: She didn’t j me off by the way.

G: Um, yeah.  It sounds like she did.

A: Ok, maybe with her leg.  But that was it.

G: Even better.  So how did you get the other stripper’s number?

A: She just gave it to me.  Probably trying to get some money.

G: I thought you asked for it?

A: I saw her and her “partner” walking by and I was doing my drunk stare down.

G: So she was a lesbian?!

A: And my girl looked at me and stopped her friend and came over.  So we’re like talking for half an hour.  And then she danced for me and then gave me her number.  I forget what our connection was but she lovvvveed me.

G: I can’t believe you talked to a stripper for 30 min, what a waste of time.

A: What do you think we do at strip clubs? I’ve seen T and P before, I need to get my entertainment some other way.  (Anthony has trouble using sexually explicit terms and abbreviates them with first letter only because he has a great fear that since his company pays for his cell phone they are secretly reading his text messages but won’t realize that T and P stand for titties and pussy.  I tell him every day that he is the only moron working there and they’ve already figured him out.)

G: Well isn’t the whole point of going to a strip club to stare at naked women? Not finding out that she wants to go to nursing school and better her life.

A: Well, I mean we were holding hands.

G: Whaaaaaaaaatttttttttttttttt????????!

A: I’m in a meeting and I’m trying to hold it together, I’ve gotta go.

G: No.  TELL ME WHY YOU HELD HANDS WITH A STRIPPER!

*2 hours later*

A: Giz, I’d really love to stay and talk about strippers some more but I have some work to do.

G: You’re the one that keeps telling me you have to go work and then keep coming back to talk more about strippers.  Stop blaming it on the unemployed friend!

G: Sooooooooo….. did you call the stripper?

A: I texted her the next night.

G: Can you forward me the convo?

A: I just asked if she was working she said something conniving alluding to the fact that she was and I don’t think we talked again after that.

G: Can we three way prank call her?

A: Gizzy, I don’t have the number anymore. I have to go.  It’s date night.

G: You’re a faggot.

*25 Seconds Later*

G: Maybe you could look at your cell bill to get the number?

A: I wouldn’t be able to tell which number it was, I was texting a few different girls that night.

G: Whoa whoa whoaaaaa, who else?

A: You see what I did there?

G: So clever. Whooooo?

A: Some bachelorette chick and some over 40 lady.

G: You are disgusting.

A: They were like 38 actually

G: Did you make out with one?

A: No I didn’t make out that trip. The stripper kissed me and tried to slip me the tongue. But you know, I’m not
easy.

G: Do you realize where that mouth has been?

A: Strippers are people too you know

G: Not in Vegas they aren’t.

A: She kissed me what could I do?

G: Slap her. That’s rude!! Which stripper was it? The one that loved you or the spicy latina?

A: The one that was sexting me.

G: Do you think it would be possible to tell me all of the facts at the beginning of our conversation? Gizzy Things I did in Vegas with Strippers: Got their number, kissed one, held hands, SEXTED WITH A STRIPPER IN VEGAS, got an outside the pants bj…. anything else?

A: I went in the back with the spicy latina.

G: I need to go, this is too much. Enjoy date night you stripper fiending whore.

Another reason why I can never date him, right thurr. But, I am pissed now, #1 what is a bff with a penis good for if I can’t three way call his mistakes and make fun of them? And #2 wtf, date night? He doesn’t even have a girlfriend.  That is a crock of SHIT.  I’m pulling it, I am pulling the best friend card and putting it out on the table.  If he doesn’t give me that stripper’s number we are no longer best friends. End. Of. Story.  You hear that Anth?! THIS IS IT!!!!!! I’M DONE!!!

Also, I hate it when people say awwhh or aweee… it’s aww. EFF!

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