Well, we all knew that it was going to come sooner or later...the single girls who used to go out on the town, get silly and drunk, meet boys, bring boys home to play, and then have laughs over brunch about it (damn, we sound like the stupid SITC ladies...we're nothing like them!! We dress well, we don't have any stupid fake accents and we don't sit around and make puns all day, I swear)...well, those girls are no more...and to be perfectly honest, I enjoy being retired more than you'd ever guess.

Cr was the first to drop. After a tumultuous relationship with her boyfriend, playing the on again/off again game they decided to stop playing games. They will be married two years, this coming September and all seems to be coming up roses for them.

Then there was me. Who would've ever thought that would happen? Well, I did as soon as I met John...but I'll save that mushy stuff for my anniversary blog. Needless to say, I'm as happy as a clam--that is, if clams get happy.

Now there's Chelle! She hemmed and hawed over this one. It's an age old story, where Chelle is Girl and her new husband is Boy. Girl meets Boy, Boy sleeps with Girl and doesn't call her for some odd reason. Girl decides, "fuck him, I'll find someone else!" and to be honest, she found a couple "elses" (not that there's anything wrong with that). Boy realizes, that he really does like Girl and pursues her like a hunter stalking his prey. Girl gets annoyed first, Girl tells Boy off and then she finally listens to what he has to say. Girl gets flattered; Girl realizes that she had just been putting up her defenses so that Boy wouldn't hurt her again. Boy and Girl date happily until one night Boy pulls out a sparkly ring and tells Girl that he wants to spend the rest of his life with her. The End!

So apparently, that's how it goes here in the Cornfield...we meet the right one and we all drop like flies. Now...I'm taking applications for acceptable men for my one friend left...T. I will start the bidding at: she likes to drink, dance, tell funny stories, take stupid pictures of me (ones where I'm trying to eat her head when I'm drunk), sing loudly, laugh more than anything. Ohh and she enjoys having the best friend a person could ever have (me). Any takers?

John said to me the other night, "You know what's missing from your blog these days?" Without batting my eyes I said, "Random sex with anonymous strangers?" in the cutest most innocent way possible. He didn't even bother to acknowledge that question but continued on his own.
"No, you're missing your whole cast of characters."
"Like I said John, there's kind of problem with introducing new characters on the blog...it's called infidelity!" as I jokingly hit his arm. Again he just rolled his eyes and me and sighed in his patient and patented "How-Did-I-Marry-This-Dummy-Again?" sigh.
"No! You never talk about your old cast of people...I mean you still hang out with everyone, but you never fill people in on what's going on in their lives."
"Well HELLO!" throwing up my arms and stating,"My blog is about ME!" in a way that only an only child can.

But then I conceeded that he may, in fact, be correct. So...here goes:

Chelle- Remember her?? She was my cohort in many a Derek chasing excursion. She was the girl that I could talk into going out any day of the week by explaining carefully to her that we needed to "Seize the Day", granted, we never did anything more than "Seize the Booze". There was a time a ways back in the history of this blog where she was making out with boys left and right. Kissing co-workers, skinheads and cute men alike, but that's all over now! Chelle's getting married...in March! Whoo! Needless to say, Mr. Chelle-to-be does not know the contents of this blog, nor will he...ever...Chelle, that's my gift to you.

To explain how agreeable and amiable Chelle is ,it's necessary to say that on Saturday she accepted my offert to join John and myself at the bar...she joined up with us at 4pm...this was a pivotal hour. It became our mission to get Chelle drunk and therefore to get her fiance out and about to pick her up. I'm not sure why this was so important to us but we succeeded in our goals. And I'm sure that Rob wasn't all that pleased with us...particularly John and myself because after our many, many hours out and about we were truly blithering idiots. Luckily, I think our friends were so pleased to see us in our old haunts that they took good care of us and after eleven hours out at the bar (yes, you read correctly, we decided to go out at 12pm and we were delivered us safely back to our house (by our loveable designated driver) at 11 pm where I immediately went to sleep (read: pass out) and John (crazy man that I love) decided to do some drunken house cleaning. I woke up to a perfectly clean kitchen and bar with all the recycling lined up neatly on the counter. I honestly thought that Dobby the house elf stopped by.

Ml- remember this coworker, exciting friend extrodinaire? Ml was my partner in crime from many work happy hours where we trolled for excitement and boys--well as much fun and excitement as the Cornfield would allow us. Often times we found ourselves in weird situations like the time she played wingman for me and she ended up getting her toes licked by a gross married man...all the while drunken Ml forgot to look down and thought it was my dog. When she did realize who/what it was, she kicked him in the face and said, "Oops!" and then got out of Dodge. A lovely addendum to this story is that the "gross married man" also ended up being the bartender at John and my wedding reception. Ml was thrilled (and by thrilled I mean disgusted) that she had to see him every time she wanted precious liquor. So anyways, Ml is doing well...she is still trying to find the perfect man, but while on the elusive search she hangs out with some not-so-perfect (but oh so cute) boys in the meantime.

Coming soon... updates on E and my ever fun friend T.

Yesterday after a devastating loss for the Eagles, John and I said goodbye to our friends and congratulated Chelle (remember her??) on her fabulous engagement and then started making out after they left. Once John got naked and then stripped me of all my clothing, he pulled me up off of the couch and led me through the kitchen and into the dining room. I was a slight bit confused at first until I saw him push the clutter off the granite table top and then I completely understood where this was going and it made me grin.

After several minutes of being laid out on the cool granite in front of our large windows (no pun intended...ok, it was kinda intended) I saw that my boy was distracted. He kept looking out of our very sheer sheers (as seen above and then he said, "That weird neighbor across the street just came home and he won't stop staring...". (aside: he's SUPER creepy, creepier than perhaps neighbors who like to bang in front of windows) "Can you really see in here, that clearly?" (hence the reason I added a picture...um yeah, you can really see in and out pretty darn clearly!!)

"Let him watch," I said, "I don't mind one bit...don't stop!" But eventually, even I got creeped out so we moved onto the living room floor, which turned out to be perfect timing because then a bunch of kids came out of their houses and started playing basketball in front of our house. I may like exhibition but, I don't think I want a corruption of minors charge slapped on me!

The nice thing about a new year is that you have a clean slate. The bad thing about a new year is that everyone becomes so damn introspective and you realize all the stupid things you did to sabotage your happiness. This is basically what Chelle and I were discussing the other night. She has recently been a convert of Dr. Phil's...now this is a tough pill to swallow, Dr. Phil is annoying. Dr. Phil has a horrible draw, his head is by far too large for this planet and half the time his statements sound more like Ned Flanders than advice. But that aside, he's teaching my friend stuff about relationships and "how to get what you want"...she's thinking about getting wrist bands that say "What would Dr. Phil do?" to remind her not to go home with people, or make out with people that she's not attracted to. If it works, more power to her.

Instead of subscribing to her guru, Dr. Phil...I'm taking the approach of Seinfield and the episode where George does everything opposite and gets everything he wants. I clearly hear the one line in my head, "I'm bald...I live with my parents, and I don't care who knows it!" Ok, so I'm not bald and I don't live with my parents so that's a good start...my point is...I reread all the stupid things I subjected poor (loveable, sweet sweet) Derek to, and well, first I laughed...because damn, I am one funny lady and then I made myself a list of things not to in the pursuit of a man. To you my faithful readers I submit my list:

1. Pursue (as in hunt) the man as if he is exotic game. easy enough
2. Write love letters of any kind while intoxicated...whether these love notes are on coasters or not really has no bearing.
3. Get so intoxicated that you can hardly form words because you get nervous around him and because you want him to drive you home later. The problem here is, you can't take advantage of him when you're being helped to your door because gravity is working against you.
4. Invite a man home for some hot lovin' and then proceed to pass out on the floor while you wait for him to close the bar.
5. Invite him again and do the same thing, again.
6. Tell him that he "should just love me already, everyone else does."
7. Sleep with another man for many many months whilst waiting for my "true love" to figure out that he loves me.
8. Create a blog about this man
9. Obsess, obsess, obsess...and then do it again.
10. and I'm sure there are a million other things too that I'm just blocking out right now...and I don't feel like making a hundred point list!

So now, there may be an opportunity with this new guy. He seems nice, he has roots in the Cornfield but he lives elsewhere. He has a real job-where he has to wear "real" clothes to, but then I also love the duality that he's in a punk band and he's covered in tattoos (that obviously can be all covered when necessary). He went to college, he loves his family, he accepts his sister (who as he puts it, "switched teams this year")...these are all good things.

If the opportunity presents itself, I will not screw this one up. Here are a few things that I plan to do to prevent this:
1. Not drink until oblivion in his presence for a while...somehow when drunk I become very focused on getting laid. While this is a charming quality (ha ha), I plan on hiding it for a little.
2. I'm not going to obsess or pursue with the focus of an exotic game hunter. This one's going to be tough, when I see something I want, I typically go get it.

Those two should probably help me out. But never fear, I'm going to be myself...just maybe not the overly dramatic version of me.

That being said, I wish Myspace wasn't blocked from my work...because I want to check what message he sent me today!

Chelle was stuck talking to this guy who was so incredibly drunk it was actually sad watching him do shots because of the amount of alcohol that was so needlessly wasted. Chelle made her escape from the bar and I thought that would of rid us of Drunk Man Who Likes To Talk About Fords To Girl Who Could Give A Fuck Less And Drives A Goddamn Neon (at least that would be his Indian name...ahem, his Native American name). So on the jukebox comes "Wake Me Up When September Ends" or whatever the title is. This is the conversation that continued:

Super Drunk Guy (SDG): Damn I hate this song! I can't believe that Green Day is singing about politics now. Punk bands should not sing about politics...so what they hate Bush, why can't they just sing the regular songs?

Me (incredulous): First of all, I really wouldn't say that Green Day is all that punk...maybe once, but no longer. And secondly? Punk bands typically talk about politics in one form or another because they are the alienated and the disenfranchised...(trails off and bites her lip trying to dumb down disenfranchised for the man since his face screwed up like a shar pei)

SDG: No, punk music isn't political. It's just not. Real music doesn't talk about politics.

Me: I don't know why we're having this discussion, didn't you just play the Boot Scoot Boogie on the jukebox?

SDG: Yeah, I did.

Me: Then this conversation about punk is over.

SDG: But I like NOFX

Me: good for you...I don't.

SDG: Wanna go look at my Mustang in the parking lot? I punched it up to five grand tonight (no idea what he was talking about but I was guessing something to do with the tachometer?)

Me: Actually no, I'm going to pass this time...but thanks for the inticing offer.

It's not often that you're called to duty to drink for 12 hours straight, but Friday night that's just what I was asked to do. A little before six, T, Chelle and I headed down to the FQB for dinner...pulled pork for T and me and a Po' boy for Chelle. Mmm, my god do they have the best food in the entire world. With lots of fabulous food in our bellies we hung out at the FQB for a little (so that T could look at Tony [her ex] a little longer). after T got her fill of Tony (well, at least for a little) we moved up to thithwbar.

There we just acted like idiots, talking in Scottish accents, doing shots, playing Naked Photo Hunt (and critiquing the pictures). At some point while there we ran into Hot Ronnie and Favorite Bartender (Hot Ronnie's roommate), they were about as banged up as we were...well Favorite Bartender might've had us beat by say...15 beers. The boys invited us back and this time Ronnie really was supposed to play for us, since last time we all just ended up wandering around the house rather than have the promised sing-along. At the peak of our drunkeness in walked Tony and his friend John. We chatted with them for awhile and they agreed to go over to Hot Ronnie's too after the bar closed and actually gave us a ride over.

Ronnie did actually play and sing that night, however, not many people focused on Ronnie. This was because Favorite Bartender was sooo messed up. Typically, the most rational and calm one of the group it was surprising to see him do the following things. First, he decided for absolutely no known reason, to toss the barbeque that was sitting on the deck all harmless-like off onto the driveway below...this isn't a low deck, we were quite a ways up. Within seconds, neighbor's lights were going on...people were coming outside and I was running damage control while Favorite Bartender went down to inspect the damage that he had created. Ever had a drunk girl as your spin doctor? No? That's probably a good thing. I'm just going to leave it at that because I'm not even sure what I was saying to the neighbors to allay their fears that the sky was falling. But Favorite Bartender wasn't done, oh no.

We went into the basement and we were all happily listening to Ronnie, albeit Tony was doing it with a sneer...you see Tony's very punk rock and plays in about three punk bands and well Ronnie, plays Jack Johnson. So for some reason T, Tony, Favorite Bartender, John and I ended up out in the garage. Favorite Bartender for some reason decided to throw a gigantic can of paint thinner at the garage wall...you can imagine the stench...and you can imagine that no one, drunk or sober moved to clean it up. We all just went upstairs. Now there was panic. Hot Ronnie was pissed at Favorite Bartender and went to bed. Chelle and I helped clean up the upstairs. T, Tony and John left...Chelle and I were supposed to go with but Chelle wanted to stay and I didn't care either way where we went.

About 20 mins after they left we changed our minds. Everyone was worried about what JB (the boy who actually owns the house that Favorite Bartender and Hot Ronnie live in) was going to do when he got home from work at 3am...and um, JB has a license to carry...ha ha). So Chelle and I make a call to T to see if John will come back and pick us up. He agreed to (with a sigh or two) and there we waited. Picture this, Chelle and I sitting in the dark with the tv as our only light. I'm sitting on the corner of the couch that Favorite Bartender is sleeping on, there's some random boy sitting on the other couch and Chelle is sitting on the floor.

We see a car pull up and we run to it, open the door and it's JB looking at us like we're idiots. Instead of explaining anything, we shut the door and ran right back into his house. Soon after, our ride came. We gratefully hopped in the car and he was sweet enough to swing by my house to let my dog out and Chelle decided at 4am that she had had enough. She stayed in my guest room as I proceeded with John over to Tony's house.

Over at Tony's, T, John, Tony and I proceeded to stay up and talk, drink and bust on each other for hours. I remember finishing my last beer with the sun warming my face...because it was coming up! Finally, at around 9 am John brought T and I home and we crashed our little bodies on the couch, where I remained all of Saturday--because ladies and gentlemen...I'm not 21 anymore, but I sure did party like that.

Last night I went out with T and Chelle...I know, quite a stretch to the imagination. Of course, I was still feeling a little sick but nowhere near as fluish as the previous days...just not on the top of my game. We met up with E and his brother at the FQB, had some dinner and drinks and then headed up to thitwbar.

Well wouldn't you know that the first person I see in the bar is Matty...and he's not alone, he's with Jodi, my replacement (back in May when I stopped returning his calls he started dating Jodi). Ha! Well I guess I know who did answer the phone on Tuesday night...it wasn't me, so it must've been Jodi. God, I'm glad I didn't fall into that trap again. Although, as always my female jealousy was kicking in...he's so not worth it (the sex sure is though), and yet, I like to get all cavegirl about it and think that he's my property. Although, he hasn't even been on my property or bed since May. Oh well.

Then we ran into Hot Ronnie and his roommate who's our favorite bartender down at the FQB. Favorite Bartender invited us over to their house for a post bar sing along. Who says that the Norman Rockwell era is over? Apparently it's alive and well in the Cornfield. While the rest of America is doing meth and having key parties...we're singing songs while someone plays the acoustic guitar. It was pretty much a drunken blur with a whole lot of walking up stairs and then downstairs...and then freezing my ass off, then playing with somebody's puppy. I vaguely remember Favorite Bartender hand feeding me tuna and me enjoying it...but um, I hate fish. I think I love the Favorite Bartender, that's my only way to wrap my brain around the fish eating incident. I haven't eaten a single fish product (so to speak) since I was seventeen. Too bad Favorite Bartender has a girlfriend and he's damaged because he caught his wife cheating on him (obviously prior to getting a girlfriend). Poor kid. He's 26 but he carries the weight of the world sometimes...plus all the Catholic guilt that his divorce is causing him. His girlfriend seems sweet though...but she wasn't around last night so I just followed him around like a puppy. It seemed to work for me at the time. Today, I'm blushing a little. But no harm done, when I'm sober, I'm not interested in the man in the least.

At around 4am I called E and asked him to come pick us up because I was drunk, tired and wanted my bed...and I won't lie--I wanted a piece of Matty. But I stayed strong...and uh, passed out without giving a second thought to Matty. It wasn't hard what with the fact that gross Jodi was in his bed.

Last night I went out with Chelle and T...everything was fine and then on pitcher number four instead of feeling drunk I felt--well--fluish. But did that stop me? Hells no it did not. I managed to sing songs like um, Circle by Edie Brickel. Now you might not know my musical taste...but it usually involves punk and rock. It really doesn't often involve music like Circle. But I sure did look at T with love (agape love my friends) in my eyes belting out," Youuuuu you're a part of my circle of friends..." and so on. We definitely got more than a few eye rolls from the "perfect girls". You know the perfect girls...they're the girls who are dressed to the nines and their hair has enough product in it to hold steady in gale force winds. All this to go to a local hole in the wall bar on a Thursday--seems kind of silly to me, especially when you take life so seriously. Good lord, they must've really liked it when we decided to sing a horrible rendition of Skid Row's 18 and Life because we decided to relive the 8th grade dance scene! It was so much fun. And if you don't think the barroom sing-along we started sounds like fun then son, you don't know much. (I really just included that last sentence because I wanted to say son...I'm a nerd, yeah).

Other than the random men stopping over to say their hellos to us...we mostly just spent the night making each other laugh. We developed "slut gang signs" (I believe they were Chelle's creation), T had the shocker, I had the time old "V" and tongue look and Chelle threw the old donut hole and finger as well as others), we laughed at my laugh (which is truly a deep, deep cackle) and we did some crazy barstool dance moves. Nights like last night, where I'm dying of the flu but still drinking and laughing with my friends (and infecting as many people as possible--just call me Typhoid Mary) are absolutely priceless. I'm feeling crazy love right now for my buddies...Chelle and T pretty much gave me my ab workout for the week and enough laughs for at least a lifetime. Oh and let me tell you...T and I can belt out "Suspicious Minds" like nobody's business...I'm not exactly sure who played it at the bar BUT we sure did get the woooo's down like it was our job.

Oh and ladies if you're reading this, if I'm not telling the truth, let Chuck Norris smite me with a roundhouse kick to the face!

When she sent me a random email out of the blue at work today...

"In Kiss Me I'm Shit faced (Dropkick Murphy's song) when he says, "In the trousers she kissed me and I only bought her one round" do you think he's in his trousers when she kisses him? And what good would just a kiss on the trousers actually do?

I giggled, knowing full well that we talked this little song to death over the past few years...and so simply responded with a "Yes."

I received another email saying, "Dumbo (boy with incredibly big ears and an extremely small head/body) bought me a beer the other night, am I still obligated to kiss him in the trousers?"

And again, I responded with a yes. So Dumbo, if she ever kisses you in the trousers you have me to thank...although I highly doubt she will.

It all starts with number one...

1. I shouldn't have finished off five pitchers of beer with two of my tiny cohorts--T and Chelle.
2. I shouldn't have gotten into a discussion with E about the possibility of us...because that's a messy messy topic...because although I keep telling him there isn't going to be an "us" he ignores me. (He's basically the Melina to my Derek--a scary scary thought)

3. I shouldn't have let E get me drunk enough to kiss me on my stairs.

4. I shouldn't have wiped my mouth off with the back of my hand and make my "grimace" face.

5. I shouldn't have decided that after a sad talk about my deceased father that it would be a good idea to sleep with his prostetic arm like a poke-y stuffed animal (hook+restless sleeper+imbibing heavily=eye pokeage) (PS. If you're wondering why I have his arm, so is my mom...I also have his spare legs too...I can't bear to part with them!)

6. I shouldn't have decided that taking a beer with me to bed because I didn't want to leave a floater was a good idea. I now have a wet bed because I set the beer right next to my pillow and unfortunately I don't have the type of bed that one person can bounce a bowling ball on the one side and a glass of red wine can sit undisturbed on the other. I obviously proved that last night.

7.I shouldn't have gotten up 10 minutes before I was supposed to be at work (even with a 30 second commute...washing my face would've been a good idea)

8. I shouldn't have shrugged and said, "You know what? I think I'm just going to wear jeans to work today...because I'm too late and lazy to iron black pants." (I had to hide in my room all day and avoid higher ups because I would've gotten a talkin' to! Although I must say that I was quite comfy and I should be allowed to wear them all the time because jeans improve my morale).

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.

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.

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!