Ah, it's time to celebrate. I had my reviews at work and as I've deemed myself all this time, it turns out that I truly am OUTSTANDING with a smattering of satisfactory-ness and absolutely no trace of unsatisfactory-ness...nope not me! Although, in second grade I did receive a U (unsatisfactory/ungradeable) in penmanship which cracks me up because people always compliments me on my handwriting. I believe that Mrs. D (the most vile second grade/non cuddly teacher ever) just hated the fact that I used my left hand to write. The horror!!

In updates-- Thanksgiving was very low key this year (along with every year). I had a nice dinner out with my mom (I don't like turkey or leftovers, but I do love options!), we went to the movies and then I hit the bars with T at around 6:30pm. I think that might've been our first mistake. We were drunken fools that night. I remember putting my head on the bar saying...."mmm, cool wood...wood is sooo cool?" However, it was pretty cool that not long after that the Cars song, "Drive" came on and it dawned on us--"Who's gonna drive [us] home?" It wasn't a subliminal message, it was a deliberate message from T's holiday man (the last time they hooked up was on Halloween)...so like the most awesome third wheel ever, they drove me home and then he took her home and ravaged her. I've now pledged to find all the minor holidays out there so that she can continue to hook up with him. We've marked Arbor Day, Flag Day and Secretary Day on his calendar already and we pledge to add more!

Friday night T, Chelle and I hit thitwbar together. T wasn't feeling too well, as she had puked in the parking lot after she finished work...she ran home, got changed and then met us straight at the bar. Notice I mentioned nothing of a shower??? I'm hoping that she at least rinsed her mouth out! Well somehow we switched roles. I think it had something to do with Chelle. When Chelle starts to get her buzz on she decides that shots are the only way to get drunk. I think if needles were available, she'd be having us mainline the booze. Seriously. And then it happened. Into thitwbar, from Perfectsville, marched the Miller girls...as in Miller Beer Girls. Very few heads at the bar turned but T and I became giddy like annoying bitches at the end of the bar because we had seen...Miller Lite terry cloth wrist bands. Did I mention that we were already mirthful and altered by liquors of all sorts?? Well I sold my email address and my photo for a pair of wrist bands and because we were so kind, polite and far less skeevy than the other patrons the Miller Lite Girls were about to encounter, they bought us a pitcher for our pleasure.

Halfway into the largest pitcher ever molded out of plastic, I leaned over with crazy fish eyes and attempted to focus on Chelle. "Chelle," I wrasped out in my "Grover voice" (apparently I have a Grover voice according to the girls), "You need to take me home. Now. Now." When she told me I just needed a glass of water and to relax, "I thrust my fist against the bar and begged, "Now." Trooper that she is---she took me home where I passed out quite lady-like on the couch about three feet from my front door. The girls went over to Hot Ronnie's and when they returned at my house around 4:30am, T whispered to me, "I NOW know why you call him Hot Ronnie...he sang "The Blower's Daughter" and I just thought, 'Holy Hotness!" " I nodded sagely and drifted back to sleep.

Yes it was a first. For the first time in the history of my bar hopping past I remained sober on Thanksgiving Eve...which is strange for my beer worshipping self. But, T and I wanted to leave the Cornfield and head up the road about 20 mins so I thought to myself, "Let's be smart, shall we?" So I offered to drive to the "far away" bar and then we planned on coming back to thitwbar and just parking the car and both of getting drunk and walking home.

Well...we were stupid. We should've stayed at the far away bar. There were TONS of people there that we knew and we never see that often...and people that we admire from afar, and cute boys too. But, T felt bad that I had been sitting there nursing my water so we hopped back in the car and started making our way back to thitwbar...but there was a new wrench in our plans. It was snowing, and it was painfully cold.

We stepped into thitwbar and right away I could tell that we wouldn't be there for very long. First of all, all the people that we were friends with were working as bartenders and bouncers. That left the riff raff to run around like maniacs, smacking into me and spilling beer on my open toed shoes (yeah, I know...it was snowing). So the last straw was four beer bottles being knocked off the table and onto my shoes. I pointed to T and said, "Out. Now. We're leaving." In the parking lot I was greeted with the largest pile of puke I had ever seen and I knew that I had made the right choice. Remember, I was in a sorority...doesn't mean I want to go back to the frat party. So we moved on to the FQB and I had made a shaky decision. "T," I said, "I'm just going to drive...no drinking for me. So drink up...because one of us has to have fun."

The FQB was a little quieter, but still not as fun as the far away bar. We ran into Hot Ronnie who was wasted...he sang me Thunder Road, so that was fun...especially since it wasn't karaoke night...and especially since it wasn't very loud in there. All in all, it was a fun night...maybe not as dramatic as nights in the past but still, that was nice too. Even nicer?? The fact that I can eat Thanksgiving dinner without having to excuse myself to throw up...as I've done every year for the past 7 years, leaving some family members to believe I have a horrible untreated case of bulimea! Alrighty, enjoy your days...I'm off to dinner.

Tonight is the biggest bar night of the year here in the good ol' US of A so of course I will be partaking in the events. Typically this is what happens...my friends and I hit about ten bars that we wouldn't normally hit, run into roughly 4,217 people I haven't seen in a very long time . Of that 4,217 only 2.17 of them will be people that I actually want to run into! Let's see what else...well in the past, I have passed out at the bar...hmmm, I broke down into tears for no reason one year...and another year I think I went home with the lead singer from a really bad cover band. So, we'll see what happens this year...I'll post tomorrow if there's anything exciting to tell. Let's all hope that the Sharter will not be in attendance of any of the bars that I go to.

So I have a classic story for you...I will title it Sharter. Last night Chelle, T and I went to lady's night at the FQB. When we first got there he was making out all sloppy-like with some random girl...she disappeared and he turned his charm on Chelle. He begins the wooing process from across the bar by stating to us that he pays $2,000 a month to his ex wife for child support, that he's broke and that he gets henna tattoos all over him in the summer because he's too scared to get the real deal. We all snicker...as we all have more than one tattoo and because he tells us that he resembles Thomas from Inked (Thomas from Inked is hawt...Drunk guy looks like Porkie Pig). So then Drunkie McDrunkerson stage whispers to his sister (of the heaving cleavage...it was OBSCENE), "Oh geez, I keep sharting..." Now because he's drunk, we ALL hear him, and we laugh...a lot.



Laughing at someone is apparently a signal for a drunk man to come over and talk to you. Well not me...Chelle. So he comes over and he tries to be suave and says to the two of us, "Why aren't any guys coming over here and hitting on the hot girls?" We reply that we are friends with everyone in the room and that's probably why...we do NOT deny our hotness. But he repeats himself again...so I reply, "Maybe guys aren't hitting on Chelle because she's got the HIV..." but because of my stuffy nose it sounds kind of like HIP. He asks me to repeat myself but Chelle's scarlet face makes me realize that I probably shouldn't say my friend has the precursor to AIDS...T jumps in and says, "Michelle has a fake hip!" And from there we just discussed her fake hip for about twenty minutes...it being titanium and all...when she has to have it serviced and how it's darn near unbreakable.



Drunkie, says, "Oh...I can't be dealing with that!" Which made me giggle because he has a kid, he's drunk and hanging out with his sister, he was just making out at the bar with a skank who has signed her name on his hand (but he didn't know what it was...I informed him that he made out with Kimmy. He said, "Oh you know her?" I replied, "No, but she signed her name on your hand dumbass.") he's broke and he's sharting up a storm!



Well then Drunkie puts his hand on Chelle's back and says, "I'm not touching you because I want to sleep with you. It's not a bad touch is it? I'm not touching you because I want to sleep with you, I just need to go to sleep." At this point,Chelle eases her back away from Drunkie's "bad touch" hand. I make some joke and we're all laughing and Drunkie looks me right in the eye and says, "You see that? You just made me throw up..." I didn't know what he was talking about but I'm assuming that he is truly one of the people who "Throws up a little in his mouth"...seeing that he didn't throw up on me I turned back to T and ignored him--leaving Chelle and her non-existent titanium hip to fend for themselves. Then Drunkie says, "Oh god I just sharted again!" and I yelled, "Go away you're gross...that's right, get away from me!" Chelle at one point said, "Stop sharting, we know that you can't afford a new pair of underwear!" But it really didn't matter because he didn't hear me...he was just moseying to the bathroom. Our story of Drunkie ends there because Sister of the Cleaviest Cleavage packed her drunk ass brother and took him home. Not a minute too soon...one of us was going to clock him.

I believe in the kindness of strangers...someone read my crappy blog one day (yesterday) and suggested I download firefox. And now, I can post again! Thank goodness...it felt weird to be away.

So the other night was hilarious. The girls--Chelle, T and I decided to hit up thitwbar. T had to do some stalking, Chelle was trying to exorcise some demons (whether or not to call it off with Co-worker) and I was just along for the ride. And boy was it a fun ride! Being ridiculous (which had nothing to do with alcohol. I think I had about five beers in about six hours) We came up with this great plan on how to break it off with Co-worker.

We agreed that she could have sex with him one last time. While she was doing her thing, I would bust into the room and do a sound check with a microphone (you know, "Check. check. Sybillus. Sybillus"). Chelle would just tell the bewildered Co-worker, "Pay no mind to her dear, we have a little show for you later." (I did tell you that we were acting like idiots right?) Then we made up a list of break up songs that we would sing to him. We are morons.

Last night we went down to the FQB for lady's night. It's pretty fun since we are three of the five ladies that go there for Lady's Night...and beer's only a dollar. It was open mic night and a lot of cool bands and people come to play on a random Thursday night. This one guy though brought this crazy instrument. I don't know if it's homemade or if it's a real thing but whatever it is it should be fucking burned. Of all that's holy in the world, I swear that it sounded like every cat in America was catterwauling up a storm at 6 decibels. I seriously thought my ears were bleeding. It wasn't just the electrified giant two by four with piano strings that was killing it was also the mixing that he was doing. In between screeching there'd be some record scratching and a little moaning that he had dubbed. Oh, it was certainly a special event!

Today, I went to work and wouldn't you know it...in the middle of the day I started feeling a tingling in my lips. I felt hot too. I looked in the mirror and there, my little lips had swollen twice their size. I went to the emergency room (my DR couldn't see me and because of my asthma I have to be careful of allergic reactions) and got a nice big shot in the ass. My lips still haven't returned to normal but now they are the lips of Angelina Jolie...well not quite as cute as those, but I do have a very full pout. Now to take advantage of that fact. Have a good weekend everyone, I'm going to attempt to---itchy lips and all!

at the Emergency Room... "You don't know me and it may not look like a big deal to you but (leans in ever so closely), I have big lips!" The nurse puts her hands on her hips and said, "Honey, people pay to have those lips!" So then I said, "Yes but do they pay for these itchy hives too?"

So. My posting. Sporadic...non-existant even. Once, I posted twice, thrice a day!! What the hell happened to me? Nothing...well nothing except a deep hatred of life without Derek in the Cornfield. Whoa, that sounded a little dramatic and after school special-ly for my liking. But, there have been no carnal tales to tell. Yes, I still have good friens to tell since August...nothing fun really to tell. ds to laugh with. But no, I'm not happy one bit.

Ok, that's a preface. It explains why I haven't been around (the real reason is the fact that I bought a mac computer and blogger and mac hate each other...and I can't post from work), it explains my mental state, and it explains my complete lack of sex. Where do we go from here? Fuck if I know.

Well. I'm not totally fair. There ARE men. We have a man I lovingly refer to as Bad Hair Bill (BHB)and boy that refer to as E. Bad Hair Bill I don't see much but apparently I made a lasting impression on him the last time he was down to visit his friend/bandmate. BHB wouldn't be bad at all but he has geography working against him as well as...bad hair. It's long, wavy and just begs to be cut!!! I was supposed to hang out with him and the rest of the guys at a party but I decided that sleep was more of a priority than going to a party and getting laid. Wait, ha ha...did you believe that??? I fell asleep on my couch from a long work week and when I woke up I didn't feel like getting ready...that's more truthful there. Then there's E.

E lives in the Cornfield. I believe E might be one of the few black gentlemen to grace our fine town. E likes my ass...it's not surprising, it's not small and he does believe in that stereotype. Fine, whatever. So anyways, E says to me, M...when you gonna give me some of that cake?" I'm at the bar so I look around and try to find the pastry that E desires...apparently...my ass has been called cake. Last night, E took advantage of the fact that I was a little drunk ( there's been some drama so Tuesday night bar night was needed!) and decided to ask me out. So...we'll see. I guess I'm going on a date with E. I'll let you know how that goes.

So fill me in, how goes it? Sorry I've been MIA...

So lots of stuff has happened while I've been absent. Does anyone know how I can make Blogger compatible with my mac? that's the only thing that keeps me from posting...

This weekend was fun. About fifteen of us girls went out and celebrated our one friend's birthday. A new bar opened around us so that's where we, and everyone else swarmed to. It was ok...it certainly was no thitwbar, that's for sure. And for just that reason...and the crowds and the bad/loud music my friend T and I decided to mosey on over to thitwbar.

No surprises there either...well except for one. T, Chelle, Cr and I all have names for particular regulars. For example...there's Hot Ronnie (because my friends think that he's hott), The Shiny Cupcake (can't be explained without a five paragraph essay) and Smelly Cat (wears so much cologne he sucks all the oxygen out of the air when he walks into the room). T and I found out that we've been given a little nickname too. It's cute and it has to do with the one bar that we go to---Basically we're the FQB Babes. Could be worse I guess. Drunken idiots comes to mind.

For Halloween Chelle went up to Salem and Crystal was on her Honeymoon so again, T and I were on our own. We planned to go to the FQB where there was a party going on and a few of our friends' bands were playing as, so we thought it would be fun. T, went as Wonder Woman and looked so amazingly awesome I paled in comparison...but don't worry, I still looked pretty darn snappy as a bar wench. It was fun mingling with old and new friends but I have to say when I got my foot stepped on and I heard a crunch, as well when someone cut me with a broken shot glass I was quite glad I was fortified with lots of seasonal shots--with really cutesy names like "smashing pumpkins" and "vampire bites", They looked harmless but they sure weren't! T managed to get "THE" guy that she's liked for a long time and whom she's had a history with, to turn his head again finally, after many months of him avoiding her because a mistake that she made (vague I know). Apparently, he has a Wonder Woman fetish...but then again, who doesn't? I mean seriously.

We got invited to his afterparty at his house but I told T to go ahead without me. I had to get home to the dogs and I was so tired that I was going to fall asleep in my wenchy heels. Plus, I don't need another punk rock prince to break my heart...and that's all that was going to be there.
On another front, I may be seeking some kind of part time employment. My bills are overwhelming...being single and a professional individual who doesn't get paid near enough will do this to you. That, and wanting to go out every single weekend. That might really be the problem...so it may be back to the dreg jobs on top of my real one. Here's a list of horrible jobs I worked before I finished college and got my dream job.

I was a waitress at a truckstop (my skirt was a bandaid), a waitress at Denny's next door to an Army base (it was 10x's worse than the truckstop), worked at a Dairy Queen in No Man's Land (there were many people who were involved/maimed in tractor accidents...and or...drove buggies), worked at an extremely high end maternity store (can you say the ultimate hormonal bitches EVER?), Victoria's Secret (it was fun except when the guys would say things like, "You're about my girlfriend's size and hold something against my boobs and then I would have to smack them for touching my breasts) and then there were a few other less interesting ones. So what will it be next? I hardly want to know. What's the point of having a Masters Degree at this point...arrrgggh. A strike is apparently in my future because I'm not the only one suffering from the salary issue...the performance vs. pay descrepancy has been pointed out in the newspaper recently...let's just keep our fingers crossed that everything gets resolved!