Tag Archives: fireworks

To Gizzy’s house: part IV.

Ah, when we awoke the next morning it was the glorious 4th of July. AMERICA! ‘MERICA! As we proudly proclaimed all day long.

But my mood quickly changed from happy and celebratory to confused, and, well…more confused.

After we passed out the night before, Clay had sent me a text around 3 am wanting to know what I was doing. Since I was sleeping, I didn’t respond. Then at 9 am, he sent me a good morning text.

While I was reading the “good morning” text and sifting through some others, he sent me ANOTHER text saying this:

“U don’t have to ignore me you know. Asshole. Thats hypocritical of me sorry I was a dick but ur gender has yet to prove other than a vagina ur existence is not necessary. OK that was mean I’m sorry u r extremely attractive and I really have not stopped thinking about u can we try this again”

If you’re wondering, yes, that was all crammed into one text message and yet another example of Clay having a legit conversation by himself. Nothing like calling me an asshole and a member of a worthless gender and then wanting to meet up.  Picture me, cackling through this all. 

I replied back with a solid “well, good morning.” We had a weird conversation about how I wasn’t ignoring him per se I was just wary of getting involved with him because he had a girlfriend. To which he said…

UMM YOU NEED TO CHECK MY FACEBOOK.

Okay, douche, I don’t check Facebook every fucking day to see if you and your woman are together or not. Frankly, I don’t give a flying fuck.

Anyway, the dude was drunk, so Gizzy and I check Facebook to see what exactly happened. And this is the slew of Facebook statuses we see:

Ok I refuse to be with a whore, I am single, so ladies lets have fun.  I have only 3 weeks left lets do the damn thing and stop thinking about tomorrow.

I hate my life, and the stupid bitch that told me I was everything to her, that’s bullshit, where is she tonight? Not with me.  I hope your aborted children provide you with a supportive landing in hell.

Happy 4th LOL

Clay is going to establish alcoholism today being as my first beer was pounded at 8:39 you’re welcome now who will join me in celebrating our country’s birthday?

If whites only come out at night why do I drink during the day?

If whores only come out at night why do I drink during the day?

  • Comment: Jackie – are you drunk?
  • Comment: Clay – if you’re wondering if I’m drinking, yes, and if I’m drunk, yes, but if you say it like that it sounds uneducated.  All I’m doing is flushing my kidneys and destroying my liver if I could put this shit in an IV I would, because it would save me the time of putting my beer to my mouth and allow me to come up with awesome status updates even faster.
  • Comment: Jackie – I would’ve asked how you’ve been but it’s pretty clear.
  • Comment: Clay – it’s clear that your gender has castrated me for the last time, and I am no longer obligated to believe you thundercunts are nice people.  So why would I? Assholes finish first right? Fuck the world, I’m about to kick it down the escalator.

Whores are like fireworks, you only shoot them at night and yet at first they look innocent but after a few shots they explode on you causing pain if not careful.

  • Comment: Clay – happy 4th retards
  • Comment: friend – you’re on a roll today
  • Comment: Clay – give me some butter
  • Comment: Barb – clay be good
  • Comment: Clay- if by good you mean break the female gender down by targeting her weakest attribute and convincing her to sleep with me because she is emotionally unstable then yes I will be good and good at it.  Sorry miss lady you are excluded from this list because you have always been awesome to me and to everyone else love you so much.

 I was once told to be good or good at it.  Happy 4th retards.

When I asked Clay what happened with his ex to make him so upset he said, “She’s a cock juggling thundercunt.” Another AWESOME line that worked itself into our vocabulary the rest of the day.

Fair enough.

To celebrate such a glorious holiday, Gizzy and I put on our swimsuits and headed out looking for beer and anything festive. ‘MERICA! Well, we didn’t find anything festive, but we got the beer and some ice and packed them both into what Gizzy thought was a cooler, when it was really a large thermal container made for a damn crock pot.  Don’t knock it till you try it, that shit worked!

Whatever. We head to the beach and get in line for some junk food. After we scarf that down, we find a nice spot in the sand near plenty of hotties playing beach volleyball.  Hotties/douchers that I already knew from college.

We had already packed some vodka, so Gizzy got us some mixers and we had our way with them. And this is when I start trying to figure out just how many different places I can piss in public (twice in the water, once in the sand, and a few times in actual public view). “Public view” means hanging her ass off a dock to pee, and hanging it off of some steps/seats.  Someone had to know what was going on since I was doubled over laughing and every time she got up there were wet spots that magically appeared on the cement.  I’m not innocent though, the day of the block party we traveled through a maze so that I could take a pee in a parking garage, where our car was not parked.

When I was finished with my vodka, I started drinking the beer like it was my job. Didn’t want to have any leftovers! When the beer was gone, we made the weird decision to walk to where the fireworks were…which was a bit of a hike. I would venture to say at least 1.5-2 miles.  It took us a good hour and a half to get there, longer than it normally would have because we had to simultaneously stop to pee/take shots.  We completely got ready in a public bathroom and then start ripping shots straight from a bottle of vodka.  In public.  Infront of cops, and children.

We see the fireworks and keep walking to try and snag some dinner. However, there was a fuckload of people. Like literally people were shoving us trying to not let us in because they were all coming out. And then we ran into a saucy hostess who told us the restaurant closed at 10 pm and I accused her of calling us retards.  My absolute favorite convo of the weekend:

Us: Table for 2

Hostess:  Um we’re pretty full, we’re not seating anyone but you can stand here and wait, I’m not sure if we’re letting people in, we might stay open later.

Lucky: So ARE you staying open later?

Hostess: We’re not seating anyone right now

Lucky: Yeah, I heard you, we’re not retards

Hostess: I didn’t say you were

Lucky: Uh! Yeah, ya did!

Bitch.  So we head to a nice little italian place, and order our food and some vino.

Once we do sit down, we have some depressing conversation about missing people, (and I loudly shit talked the aliens next to us for staring at our drunk asses)  and we manage to catch a cab ride back home. However, the cab ride was nice and bumpy, and me being quite wasted, I knew I needed to barf. But it wasn’t anything emergency-related…I figured I had plenty of time. However, when I hand the cabbie my credit card, he says he has to turn the car off completely and restart everything.  Honest to god, it took half an hour.

I told him I needed to step outside and puke. And I did. On a tree. While people and dogs watched me.

But I felt worlds better.

Then Gizzy and I ran inside and busted into Anth’s room, only to find him sexting while in his bed. Typical.  Lucky asks if he’s naked and runs over and rips off the blankets.  I immediately scream, “DID YOU SEE HIS WEINER!?” she says no and we run squeeling out of his room.  He sent me a text the following morning thanking us for the wake up call and thanking himself that he wasn’t actually naked under his covers.  I told him that leaving the door unlocked is like inviting us into his room so idk what he expected.

The next morning was my last in town, and given all the airport drama the first go ’round, I wasn’t looking forward to heading back. However, Gizzy and I hit a few hot spots I had been wanting to see, we had a few beers and more junk food and we were on our way. We even ate lunch at our favorite place—Taco Bell. Holla!

Overall, an AWESOME visit!

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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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Gizzard the lush

First things first, I’m going to post 2 emails for DOUCHE DAY this week since I didn’t get to post the counter fellacio story last week.  I assume the demon jack off poonanis quit paying his comcast bill and they shut him down, because I quit getting free internet last week.  Sucks. Sucks real bad.

On to bigger and better things, my Friday night turned into a drunken circus.  Literally, I was swinging from trees like a monkey.  My friend GiGi and I went out to get a pitcher and a pie at 6:30 and I was at home face first on the floor drooling on myself by 11. The pitcher turned into pitcher(s) which turned into vodka tonics and then shots of tequila.  Needless to say HOTTIE MCHOTTERSON got a phone call and it could’ve gone better, the time was 10:13 and the call lasted 38 seconds:

*RingRing

HOTTIE: Hello?

Me: scHiiii, whats you doing?

HOTTIE: Sitting on the balcony, are you drunk? It’s 10 o’clock.

Me: NO.. I.. *pause for 4 seconds*

HOTTIE: Gizzy, are you there?

Me: Yeah what are you doing?

HOTTIE: Uhh

Me: You’re hot, HOTTIE MCHOTTERSON.

Me: HOTTIEEEEEE MCHOTTERSONNNNNNN (I was acutally calling him HOTTIE MCHOTTERSON, not his real name.)

Me: I..I Gigi is coming

Hottie: Why don’t you just call me back when you get home?

Me: Okbye.

Well, I didn’t call him when I got home.  I can’t remember if it was because I knew he was never going to speak to me again or if I was just too drunk to function.  I thought I outgrew drunk dialing when I outgrew the frats.

Well HOTTIE called me bright and early.  I was supposed to do a captain mo gig up by his house so he wanted to do something when I got off, even after I put myself to shame.

Fast forward to Saturday night, I get off work and parked to the left of the tennis court at his $3.5 million dollar house. Wow.  I mean I’ve seen some big houses but this was unbelievable.  I had already told him I couldn’t meet his parents dressed as a pirate hooker so I needed some assurance that he was going to be the only one home.  They could’ve been home and we never would’ve seen them, he stays in the guest house when he’s home and if it weren’t for the neighbors calling about my hoopty sitting out back claiming there was a robber in the neighborhood they would’ve never known I was even there.

I changed into presentable looking clothing and we were on our way.  We pulled up to a restaurant on the beach of a lake and sat on the patio area that was over the lake for the sunset while we waited for our table, which was by the window facing the lake.  All joking aside this was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen, if my camera wasn’t stuck to the bottom of my purse in milk duds I would’ve taken my own pictures.

They had mostly seafood and steak.  I had a bloody steak like a lady, and he had lobster.  Post dinner we walked out on this little pier thingy you see and got on board a boat that drove us all over the lake and then stopped dead center for the fireworks show.  I doubt he planned that but if he did he deserves some kind of medal.  After boozing it up all night I had to stay at his house (oh what a shame.)  Surprisingly, he didn’t pull any hanky panky and kept it PG-13.

Sunday morning we got up and he made us french toast, eggs, and bacon then we hopped in the car and went to the city to go to the real beach.  Basically it was the perfect date considering the ass I made out of myself the night before and the fact that I called him not 2 hours ago asking if he could stop by to unzip my dress, it was tots stuck.

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