Tag Archives: big city life

Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb

I didn’t hang out with Sweater Vest and Dina on Friday, I didn’t hang out with 2nd crush on Saturday. Instead, I hung out with Acts Gay but Says He’s Straight Friend Adam.  He just moved to the big city and we had to go out and do it right.  Doing it right included going to an outdoor rooftop bar, yes please.  Then we traversed the city to see all the sights, each with a 6 pack in tow.  I gave a homeless guy a beer, he took 1 sip and then wasted it, I got pissed and told the next homeless guy to go fuck himself.  Trouble ensued, and acts gay but says he’s straight friend Adam had to give the guy his last dollar so we wouldn’t get beaten.  Then, I sass talked multiple security guards and we got in more trouble and got kicked out of a park.  This is why I will never be a suitable mother.  All in all it was a good night, and at 2am I was walking home from the subway alone, which I’ve never done and it wasn’t so bad.  I had High School Crush on the phone to keep me company/make me feel like if I got mugged I’d be ok. 

When I got home and got into bed HSC and I were texting and he texted me something really sweet about how he wished I was there – to which I did not reply because I was face first into my pillow having a drunken snooze fest.  When I woke up 10 hours later, hungover as all hell, I was all, “Me too!” And asked him a question about the rest of his night.  I never got a response, and here it is Tuesday, and I’m still waiting….

Let me backup here, High School Crush and I have talked every single day since about oh March or so.  I’m trying not to freak out, but we’re on day 3 and this behavior is peculiar.  Right now I’m chalking it up to the fact that he’s probably overwhelmed because he’s closing on his house this week and trying to get the guts to double text, but I’m afraid I might not get a response, again. 

My horoscope for the week made me feel a little better… Beauty is nice, but it’s intelligence that turns on a lady like you. After all, substance is the only way to keep you interested, as superficial challenges can only excite for so long. Lucky for you this week will be a mind twister that will tease you in all the right ways. Seems curiosity will thrill your cat, and have you purring a sweeter tune.

That’s a good sign, right?

Tonight Dina and I are going to a baseball game, so that should do a good job of keeping me occupied and not checking my phone like a psycho.  Or it will backfire because I’ll get really drunk and text something inappropriate.  Tune in Thursday to see what happens in this hot mess.

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I solemnly swear to never walk alone again

Lately I’ve been trying to make an effort to make myself not be so miserable in the big city.  I’ve applied for several jobs and gotten no phone calls for interviews, so as much as I don’t want to admit it – I may be stuck here for a while.  I thought maybe I should try to embrace the city and figure out a way to make it work until someone decides to throw a new job at me.

It’s been unseasonably warm the past few weeks so yesterday I decided that after I got home from work I would walk to Target to get a few things I needed.  I could get some exercise while enjoying the nice weather and get my errands done, why not kill 2 birds with 1 stone? With that being said, yesterday will probably be the first and last time I walk anywhere that’s more than a block or two away.

The area that I live in isn’t the best, but it’s not bad by any means.  There are some sketchy blocks here and there where there is some low-income housing, but I didn’t think it would be a big deal.

On my way to Target it wasn’t so bad, it was still daylight and yes all the hood rats were outside on the sidewalks most of them didn’t bat an eye when I walked by.  After I passed one group and got a pretty good distance away, I heard one of the women yelling at me, “Hey pink! Hey pink come back here! Hey girl, hey why don’t you come back here?” I knew she was talking about me because the word PINK was plastered across my ass.  I didn’t turn around, I didn’t know what she wanted and I definitely didn’t want to find out.

I probably could have avoided that happening at all if I had thought it out a little more.  Note to self: Don’t wear name brand clothing or bring your faux Jimmy Choo along for the walk through the hood.

So I made it to Target, got everything I wanted and decided to walk to the bookstore to get a new Nicholas Sparks book (Lucky gave me The Lucky One to read and now I’m hooked). So after the book store I was headed home, it was dark out but you know the big city has lots of lights so I didn’t feel like I was going to get murdered in an alley or anything or that it was unsafe to walk by myself.

As I was walking by this abandoned building/parking lot I noticed man probably in his mid forties wandering around the parking lot aimlessly.  It was a little weird because he definitely didn’t seem like he was walking because he was going somewhere.  I got to a cross walk and stopped but I could see him stumbling toward me out of the corner of my eye.  I positioned myself so that if he came up to the corner I would be facing him and not have my back turned to him.  Better to be safe than sorry.  I was hoping the light would change and I could scurry across the street before the guy reached the corner, but of course that didn’t happen.

The man made it to the corner and I got a better look at him, he was heavy-set – probably like 250 pounds at least and wasn’t much taller than me, he couldn’t have been more than 5’8”.  But then, the guy kept walking and got super close to me, like right in my face.  Literally like 6 inches away and I could just smell his nasty breath.  He was missing most of his teeth and his eyes looked freaking cray cray.  [Insert Gizzy crapping her pants.]

The intersection we were at is pretty busy, so I’d like to hope that if I screamed or if the guy tried to attack me and people saw me struggling someone would get out of their car and help.  But who knows, it’s the big city and people are assholes.  What I was more afraid of was that the guy was just going to pull out a gun and shoot me in the stomach.  But instead, he was right in my face and said, “I know you.” After he talked I could tell he definitely wasn’t all there, he was either super wasted or semi-retarded, maybe both.  So I backed away, and said, “Um, NO.. you don’t.”  Then he got in my face again, “Yes. I do.” Then he just kept staring at me from inches away and every time I backed away he got right up in my face again.  Seriously, this was the longest damn stoplight of my life.

So then I had backed up as far as I could and I was up against the guard rail on the sidewalk and the guy said, “I’m just going across the street. Come with me.” I screamed, “NO!” and still had nowhere to go. Just in time this guy running stopped at the cross walk and came over and asked if he could walk me across the street.  I said “THANK GOD! YES!” Then the light changed and we started walking, the old fat man followed us but he was slow so I didn’t think he’d be able to catch up again unless I stopped.  The guy asked if I’d be ok to walk alone and I said yes that I didn’t live far and I was just going to run the rest of it with my shopping bags in tow to make sure I got far far away from that weirdo.

So I made it home, thankfully.  But I think from now on I’ll be driving wherever I need to go.

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Douche Day Returns

Happy Jerseday Everyone!!   Let’s start off this fist pumping with a DOUCHE DAY story!

A few weeks ago my friend Dina came up to visit, I haven’t seen her in a year so a reunion was so very necessary.  She came to my apartment one night; we started off with cocktails at my apartment and stories of how we hate men.  We ended the night at an afterhour’s club with my old sorority friend Vickie and that’s all I remember.

I woke up the next morning to Anth pounding on my bedroom door saying Dina was texting him because she needed to get her stuff.  It was literally one of those out of body experiences where I was like, “Really? What happened last night? Am I alive right now?”  I was still in my clothes from the night before, my tv was blaring, the lights were all on, there were ralphing remnants crusted to my face, oh and I was still super wasted. 

Dina showed up an hour later, not pissed off that I had obviously left her at the club to fend for her own.  Apparently we were with a guy she had been dating so she stayed at his house.  Shew!  And I was dancing with his ugly sidekick.  Yuck.  We tried to recrap the rest of the night but failed and failed again.

After a while of diligently searching I found my phone and started to look through the texts and calls to see if I could figure out what had happened.  That’s when I saw it.  A text from: DOUCHEAROO.

The Time:  3:49AM

The Message From DOUCHEAROO:  Was I ever mean to you when we dated?  As in really mean like made you feel awful about yourself?

The Time:  4:02AM

My Reply:  REALLY?!!

—14 hours lapsed time of me coming out of my drunken stupor, being hungover, and wanting to die—

9:59 PM – DOUCHEAROO:  Yes, really.

Me:  You told me I was crazy, a bitch, and dumb while you saved messages from your ex telling you that “you’re wonderful”  and you acted like I was disposable, so yeah I’d say I felt prettttty bad about myself when I dated you.

DOUCHEAROO:  I’m sorry about that.

Me: Uh, thanks.

DOUCHEAROO:  I guess I have been through some shit lately.  So I just wanted to know.  Made me appreciate your level of sanity.

Me: Oh yeah, dealing with some crazy?

DOUCHEAROO:  You have no idea.  (Editor’s note:  HAHA, he deserves it.  Dick.)

Me:  Good luck with that.

DOUCHEAROO:  Noted.  Can I tell you one thing?

Me: What?

DOUCHEAROO:  I’m sorry I took you for granted.  I was stupid and didn’t care.  Just know that any guy is lucky to have you.  Anyone who disagrees is a moron.

Me: Um, thanks?

DOUCHEAROO: Welcome, we did have some good times I thought.

Me: Sure.

DOUCHEAROO: I guess my point is that I’m sorry when I hurt you.  You deserved better.

Me: Yep, 4 years too late with that apology.

DOUCHEAROO:  Just wanted you to know.  Your name is still Gizzysaurus in my phone by the way.

Me: Cool.

DOUCHEAROO:  I miss you.  That’s all I will say.

Annnnnd that’s where I quit replying.  Like you have got to be freaking kidding me!! 

Next message—-

TO: Snoop Linus

From: Gizzy

I HAAAAAATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU.

Right, a little immature and unnecessary but I don’t regret it and I was out of my element so whatever.

Reply from Snoop-Linus 5 days later:  I fucked everything up, all of it.  I just need you back in my life, the past year hasn’t been the same without you.  I love you Gizzy.

Really?  I say I hate you after not speaking to the kid for months I send I hate you and get an I love you I need you back in my life? 

So the lessoned to be learned here is that even at 26 years old I still cannot be trusted with my own cell phone while intoxicated.   

I think getting that “I hate you” out of my system will end the whole Snoop-Linus debacle and I don’t think DOUCHEAROO will be texting me for sometime after getting shot down…. Again.   DENIED!

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You can take that fine and shove it up your…

Hallelujah it’s Friday!!!  I could not be happier.  When I was in college not studying my life away, partying on Monday’s and Wednesday’s and whenever I felt like it, laying out by the pool on a Tuesday, and watching Full House reruns every day I always thought I would be happier when I got a full time job and I was bringing in the bucks.  But I’m not.  People are right, the real world sucks.  Work sucks.  And my life is slipping through my fingers, the weeks all blend together and the weekend is all I live for.  So everyone, how about some anti-depressants?

And on that note, I am returning to Shit U this weekend to find me a hot young hunk to make out with.  I say this every time I go and it never happens, so I’m not going to jinx it and get all analytical and scheme up a way to make out with a 21 year old.  This is the first weekend back for the students, so I think that’s all I need to say.  I won’t be the only one looking to make some bad decisions.

I’m really going back because Gigi, Chuck, Acts Gay but Says He’s Straight Friend Adam, Bri, Gigi’s boyfriend, Gigi and Chuck’s old roommate Netti and I have decided that every year we will have a reunion the first weekend of school, because we need a valid reason for partying with college students.  It should be a good time; drama will definitely ensue between Gigi, Chuck, and Bri who aren’t all on the best of terms and I’ll get drunk and use Acts Gay but Says He’s Straight Friend Adam as my wingman. 

Annnd turning the page… who’s wondering about my coffee date?  No one?  Well it didn’t happen.  All thanks to my shit hole apartment.  I get up 30-40 minutes early so I could leave early to go meet Alex for coffee.  I left and tried to shut the garage door and it wouldn’t shut.  It would start to shut for like 2 seconds, and then it would bounce back up like something was in front of the sensor.  I cleared all the cob webs out of the way and it was still doing it.  Like would not go down for the life of me.  I thought I was going to have to call into work because I couldn’t very well leave out house wide open for hobos and criminals to invade.  I tried figuring out a way to unhook the sensor, almost electrocuted myself, and after 20 minutes of messing with it finally decided to call Anth because I was about to cry.  He says it’s the sun and it does it every morning if you leave at that time.  Are you freaking kidding me?  The sun is keeping our garage door from closing? I went inside and watched half an episode of The Wonder Years, emailed Alex to tell him I wasn’t going to be able to make it, and came back out and it worked.  But really, I never had weird things like this: my apartment catching on fire, rabid mice running around, and THE SUN KEEPING ME FROM GOING TO WORK – until I moved to this city.

So I finally get to work and I get this email from Anth that he got from our landlord:

The association is complaining about:

  1.  Cigarette Butts scattered around the property by guests
  2. The fire escape is for emergencies only not for entering and exiting units
  3. The associate requires the names and numbers of any tenants living in your property
  4. There have been numerous complaints from owners pertaining to noise coming from the unit, rooftop, and courtyard to the point that specific monetary fines were discussed at the last meeting.

This pissed me off.  Let’s start from the top…

  1. Cigarette Butts scattered around the property by guests.  – UMMM… none of us smoke, nor do any of our friends, how about instead of picking on the poor kids who aren’t invited to the association meetings they pick on the lady who runs her psychiatry business out of her home and whose patients hang out in the courtyard while they’re waiting on their appointment.

Young kids with good jobs = non-smokers

Psychos = smokers

Seems pretty simple.

 

  1. The fire escape is for emergencies only blah blah blah – this one is legit, because when JM lived with us he used the fire escape to get into our apartment almost daily.  But that has been 3 months ago so they’re too late on that one.  Oh, and Anth the time he snuck a shacking whore down it.

 

  1. The association requires the names and numbers of all tenants living in the property.  —So give it to them dumb shit.  You have them.  I hate people.  HATE! So stupid.

 

  1. There have been numerous complaints from owners pertaining to noise coming from the unit, rooftop, and courtyard… So I’d like to say we have been pretty calm with the exception of the weekend Lucky was in town/the bachelor party.  Other than that they’ve got nothing.  However, our neighbors do have rooftop parties every weekend and sometimes on Thursdays so maybe they should’ve spoken up and said they’re the noisy ones instead of the poor 20 something’s who weren’t there to defend themselves. 

 

So Anth kept saying he didn’t care and blah blah blah, but I have a feeling he’s going to care when we get a big fat fine the mail.  Which will be when I walk over to the president’s house (next door, also the douche who set the complex on fire) and tell him that if he wants to fine us for being loud I’m going to fine his baby for waking me up with it’s stupid baby noises every morning at 5am.  And I’m going to fine him for revving the engine to his porche every night when he gets home from cheating on his wife at midnight, and every morning when he leaves at 6am, and he can pay the fine for the grass mowers that are loud when they come at the butt crack of dawn to mow the grass on Saturday mornings.   And then I’m going to fine the neighbors on the other side of us for not turning their alarm clock off on a Saturday morning and it beeped for 4 hours straight beginning at 5:30am.  Ready. To. Rumble.

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FOX stole my life

Did everyone just luuuurrrrveee the JERSEY SHORE last night? I did, I know it wasn’t very eventful but it was a good teaser.  My new goal in life is to get PaulyD to retweet my tweet or write me back.  It’s going to happen.  And when it does it’s going to be… AWESOME!

While watching the Jersey Shore last night I saw a preview for a new show on fox… “The New Girl”  It’s about a girl starting over and moving in with 3 guys.  Sound familiar? Yeah, that’s because it’s MY LIFE!! WTF FOX!!!

Yes Fox, you’re welcome for your new smash hit.  Do blog entries count as a poor mans copyright?  Think I could get them to hire me on as a writer?  Like hey guys, been there done ALL OF THIS! You know what though, I bet they don’t make her live in the basement for 6 months to earn her keep before giving her 4 walls and a door.  I’ll be curious to see how the story pans out, I would put money on 2 seasons from now she’s dating one of the roommates.  We shall see.

What do we think about people in the office who make their email signature look like an actual signature.  For example:

Dear Gizzy:

If you are ever in need of my services please do not hesitate to contact me.  Thank you.

Sincerely,

Pooper Scooper

Executive Director of Scooping Poopies

Personally, I’m not a big fan of it.  I think it’s unprofessional and makes you look like you have a lot of time on your hands.  But I’ve been noticing like EVERYONE that I email with at work does it.  Am I retarded and missed the memo that creating a fake e-signature is in? Like if you’re going to go to this much trouble why not type out the whole GD email in word, print it out, sign it, and then PDF or fax it to me? I just do not understand the purpose of using a different font for their name.  Baffling.  Granted they’re all old and amazed at all the cool things computers can do.  Just know that I had to look up how to do HTML coding in order to make this point and get that handwriting font to show up, so appreciate!  There’s more where that came from, friends.  

The best part of this is that I wrote all of the above about people being big gay wads with their cursive email signatures last night (Thursday) and a few minutes ago (on Friday) we received this email from CFO:

All,

Staff should use an e-mail signature on e-mail correspondence.  We have chosen the standard e-mail signature format below and include instructions to create a signature.  Please create or update your existing e-mail signature to reflect the e-mail standard example below using Calibri font, size 10, black, with no background, color or graphics.  At your department manager’s discretion, you may be asked to include department specific information.

Standard e-mail example

Jane Doe

Department Administrator

Company XYZ

Department ABC

123 Main Street- Suite (your suite number)

Partyville, USA 12345

T (555) 123-0000

janedoe@company.com

Looks like I wasn’t the only one that noticed all the tool bags making us look unprofessional.  Touche my good man CFO.  Touche.

Speaking of work, it’s been far too long since anything embarrassing happened to me while on the job.  Until today.  I’m walking to the copy machine with a pile of $1,000,000 checks to copy and my heel gets stuck in the cuff of my oh so stylish pants, the express flare leg dress pant.  I go to take a step and I felt it happening and said… “OH NO!!!” as I went down using the file cabinent to brace my fall.  It held me up so I didn’t completely faceplant.  But while I’m using all my strength and will to hold myself up using the file cabinent and while simultaneously trying to get my heel unstuck from the cuff of my pant leg a group of businessmen walk by to go to the conference room for a meeting (Little Mikey included) and the old asian man is standing there watching my struggles and asking if I’m ok.  It’s really a wonder that I’m still here and not off in a corner somewhere ugly girl crying.  So this has taught me a lesson, I’m officially too old and too clumsy to try and look stylish and cute while at work.  If I had on my high waters this wouldn’t have happened, or if I had been wearing flats this wouldn’t have happened.  It’s what I get.

Happy Friday everyone!  Thank god.

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Men suck, all of them

Well, we are officially back in action.  WordPress shut us down for a hot minute saying we violated their terms of service.  Which was a big lie.  I emailed them and they said it was a mistake.  You’re damn right it was a mistake! They must have been trying to put us on freshly pressed and deactivated us instead.  That’s gotta be it.  Anyway…

Lately I’ve been in a slump, I don’t feel like going out or doing anything fun, and I really just want to be left the hell alone.  By everyone other than my family and Lucky.  I’d like to go entire days without making fake conversation with people at work about the weather and how slow the copy machine is.  I don’t want to hang out with my roommates.  I want to come home, eat my dinner, and relax in my room alone while drinking a glass of wine or 5.

It seems like if I am short with people at work I’m constantly getting the, “What’s wrong, is everything ok?” Look/questioning from everyone.  Yes! Everything is fucking fine, I just want to come in here, do my job, and leave.  I don’t care about your grandkids, or what you had for dinner, or what your plans are this weekend.  If there were people my age I’d probably feel different, especially if there were hot guys or halfway decent girls I could possibly be friends with.  But I’m tired, and I have a lot of work, and hearing about peoples lives gives me less energy to do work and stay up past 8:30.  But last Friday I had to hear a 20 minute long explanation of what Ciggy Breath was doing for his wife’s birthday month.   That I never asked about.  And I just had to leave, that was it – I was cashed after hearing that.

So to add to hating everyone last week I woke up with a 6AM text from Anth saying, “Did you stand there while they fucked with my sunglasses? And, where did you go?”

A little backstory, a few weeks ago my old college pal Gigi came for a visit and we went to a concert on the beach.  After the concert we were walking to catch a cab, something happened and I smacked Anth’s chest.  His sunglasses were on the inside of his shirt and when I smacked his chest one of the lenses popped out of his shades.  I offered to take them to get them fixed and that was the end of it.  

So, when the whole fire thing happened I sat down to take a looksie at his sunglasses.  The lenses are held in with fishing wire so I figured I could put it back in myself.  I did and then I cleaned them and all was good.  A week and a half later I got that text from Anth.

Now, I don’t condone lying to anyone, but in a case like this if I would have told Anth that I fixed his sunglasses he would’ve gone off on me and accused me of messing them up somehow.  So when I told him I would get them fixed he said I could go to any optometry place and it would be fine.  I told him I took him to sunglass hut because they’re probably all high and wouldn’t recall if I came in there like an optometry place would.  So then he goes off on a tangent about how there’s a chip missing from the bottom of the lens, you can barely notice it, and how I should’ve gone to an optometry place because they have better tools for that stuff.  Well you know what dbag? I fixed it and I didn’t use any tools, and I sure as hell didn’t chip the god damn lens using my fingers to put it back in.

I don’t know if it’s because I’m extra irritable or what the deal is, but I just did not want to deal with this.  I immediately texted Lucky and told her the sitch, she said it was stupid and I agreed.  Once all was said and done I just ignored him, if he wants me to take them to get the lens fixed (which I’m not entirely sure happened because of something I did) I will get them fixed.  But, he’s going to have to grow some damn balls and ask me to do it.  Because it’s time to be a man and stop confronting people through emails and text messages.  Yes, I confronted them about my cheese through an email, but I would’ve said it to their faces had they been at the apartment when I noticed it was all gone, I just wanted my cheese replaced before the next morning damnit. 

The day before that or after, I can’t even remember now they all run together, he was texting me complaining about me turning the air conditioning up 1 degree in the morning when I left.  God forbit it is 1 degree warmer in the apartment when NO ONE is there all day long so that we save some money/help Earth.  So I asked what his problem with it was, he said that he gets hot when he sleeps.  Ok, so turn it down when you sleep or if you get hot, who cares.  No that wasn’t good enough, he had to complain about how sometimes he forgets to turn it down and then he wakes up sweating.  But of course he’s too lazy to get out of bed and turn it down or not use a fucking down comforter in the middle of summer.  But I digress.  See what I’m dealing with here?

It gets slightly worse, after fending off my nagging non-husband all week, the weekend had finally arrived.  I was planning on eating buffalo wild wings and drinking my bud light limes and laying in bed all weekend and talking to NO ONE.   I am all independant woman the past year or so, don’t need a man, yada yada… I’m sure there are songs about it.  But, when Lucky called me last weekend to tell me about the latest with her cray cray dad I ventured out of my room and went to the roof so that I could have good cell service.  As I do, I hadn’t been up there for more than 2 seconds and here comes Anth.  So I go down to the kitchem, 2 seconds later here comes Anth.  Why?  I don’t know, I guess he needed attention or something.  Because he wasn’t following me around because he had a purpose for being in either of those rooms, he was just lingering.

So I go into my room and lay halfway in my room and halfway out my sliding doors so my phone would still get service (HATE AT&T btw) and not 15 minutes later JM busts in  my bedroom door because he’s visiting and thought I was gone, so he was going to sleep in my bed.  

Then every time I come downstairs I get shit about how I don’t hang out with them and how I’m boring and will die a lonely old cat lady because I never come out of my room.  And that is exactly why I don’t come out of my room, so I don’t have to hear shit like that.

I like my roommates, and I like to party with them occassionally.  But I don’t want to hang out with them from the time I wake up in the morning until I go to bed.  #1 they watch bad tv (sports – not the good ones either, they watch boring stuff, like wrestling, tennis, and golf) #2 I don’t want to hear about how I’m so lame #3 I don’t want to hear about your girlfriend/girl you’ve been banging because I don’t care. 

So men, I get it.  I get what you’re going through having a nagging wife and no sex.  I get it.

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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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