Tag Archives: vegas

Vegas Pics!

As per usual my job is sucking the life out of me and taking up all my time so I haven’t had time to think of anything I could write about today, or wipe my ass.   So from now on when this happens I’m just going to post a few pics from Vegas.  I hate my life job.

Tagged , , ,

There are no words

VEGAS BABY!

 

Be back Wednesday!

Tagged

Just some things..

Hey kids… things are getting spicy around here.  LIVENING UP THE PLACE! We’ve got a lot to cover today, mostly things that I feel like I need to document so that when my memory doesn’t serve me I can come back here and see what actually happened.  Here is our agenda:

*A super duper exciting awesome surprise for Lucky via our Vegas Trip

* My career advancement

* How 2 guys from my past almost messed shiz up with High School Crush

Ok, let’s get started!

Lucky – I was at this luncheon for work the other day and got to chatting with my only friends in the office.  We were yammering on about how none of us have any savings because we all lurve to travel.  The token single lady in the office – she is 50, owns a house with her sister, and has never been married (a story for another day) – but she travels all the time offered some Vegas advice.  First, she said we will have the time of our lives at MGM. CHECK! Then she was all, “LISTEN UP! I’m about to tell you some free things to do…” Some of them I was like eh whatevs, I’d rather pay $30 and get a margarita the size of my head but one thing stuck out in particular.  At one Caeser’s Palace there is a MARTHA STEWART garden that she MS, the hoodrat herself, comes to garden in every season.  Since you’re such a MS fan I thought it in our best interest to check it out whilst wearing our sequins and drinking our giant ‘ritas.

Next.

I had an interview Wednesday morning for a job in the city I want to live in.  I know right? I’m excited too.  Anyway, it started out as an in person interview, then somewhere along the way they figured out that I live far away and asked that we just do a phone interview for now.  So Wednesday morning I got up early for this interview and it went really well.  The guy that was interviewing me seemed like he was either 85 years old or not all there.  Either way, I think it worked to my advantage.  I’ll find out next week if I make it to the second round.  Clinky! Here’s hoping!

With that being said the guy had THE best job interview question I have ever heard, or maybe it’s just because I could totally relate to the question.

“What is your biggest pet peeve when it comes to co-workers?”

I had to hold the phone away from my face so he couldn’t hear me laughing.  I mean really, I could have kept the guy on the phone all day.  But in an attempt to not sound unprofessional by being like, “WELL! The guy next to me likes to announce what’s going on in his daughter’s sex life and that kind of bugs me.” I managed to dwindle it down to people being unprofessional and unorganized, which 99% of Ciggy Breath’s annoying habits fall under.

Moving on…

So, remember a few weeks ago when I spent the night with HSC? Right, I know.  How could you forget.  I forgot to mention a few things that happened, and honestly forgot about them until they were coming out of my mouth when I was talking to Lucky the other night on the phone.

So first, remember The Bed Wetter? I mean, this kid has got to have THE worst timing of anyone I know. Literally 5 seconds after HSC and I got to the bar, we’re standing there talking to his friends, and his sister’s husband when The Bed Wetter comes up from behind me, puts his arm around me and says, “Hey you’re pretty hot, can I buy you a drink?” Honestly dude? So I turn around see it’s him, act overly excited to see him like we are long lost pals and say, “Hey where’s your girlfriend!?” Within earshot of HSC.  Bed wetter apologized for interrupting and moved on.

The next morning after HSC and I woke up on Chuck’s basement futon, we decided to go get some breakfast.  So we’re sitting at breakfast chatting away and I look up and see Douchearoo’s roommate/best friend that I’ve hooked up with (his name is The Farmer) standing in front of our table.

Thankfully he is 9 feet tall and didn’t see my shrimpiness sitting there, but it could have been really bad had he seen me.  Or had we seen Douchearoo out the night before.  The unfortunate thing is he probably did see me and just didn’t say anything, but I’m sure he went back and told Douchearoo and now D-roo has got it on his radar to look out for me/ruin my life.  Sigh. The no drama part of the HSC stuff was fun while it lasted.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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!

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,