Nights Like This Appeal to Me

Here is some stuff that got stuck in the grate by my house.

I thought I'd do you all a favor and keep a safe distance from another drunken blog post by waiting until this afternoon to write.

Last night I finally achieved my goal of integration between all of my friends and it was just as awesome as I suspected it would be. My friends K. and T. showed up and K. brought her boyfriend and everyone got along swimmingly. Stinky even had a whole hour where she wasn't hanging out with her friends, so she joined us downtown for a bit. Colleen was so funny around her. She couldn't get over the fact that Stinky was a teenager and wasn't going to make Colleen wear dress-up clothes and put on garish make-up.

After Stinky went home, we all decided to drink at the beer garden at The Mill. Of course, one of the bad things about me, is that my friends can talk me into anything after I've had a beer or two. My friends took full advantage of it last night. They got me to do my downs syndrome face and the butt dance in front of god and everybody. I'm not saying I'm proud of my behavior, I'm just simply relating what went down.

Another friend of mine gave me a Xanax to take for recreational purposes. I should have saved it, because I'm sure there will come a time when I'll need it for real, but he was adamant that I take it right then and there. I split it with someone else and we downed our halves with the Mexican beer we were drinking. (which, I'm pretty sure is exactly what any pharmacist would recommend)

About twenty minutes later, my friend said, "See? You've already stopped guffawing as much and you're not half as loud as you were." To which, I responded,

"Uh, what?" I wouldn't be surprised if last night starts a precedent for all my friends to show up with handfuls of Xanax or Valium to throw at me whenever I get too drunk and loud.

Well It's Late in the Evening

Here. Look at these pretty flowers and let them distract you from anything I'm about to write.

Oh, kids. I haven't done this for a while, but I'm blogging while I'm a little on the dee-runk side. I know it's a bad idea, but so was straightening my hair in July, and I did that tonight too. I'm a girl who likes to live on the edge. So, yeah. It's midnight and I just ate a bowl of Apple Jacks and I still have to get up and work tomorrow. So what. I'm sure I'll be quite the perky little princess around three in the afternoon tomorrow too...or not.

The thing about me, is that I always have such good intentions. Originally, my friend Colleen called me at work and we both kind of decided that we wouldn't go out. We'd both rest up and she'd get time to chill out from her trip and whirlwind visits to friends and family yesterday and today, and I would get some alone time. Ha.

I got home from work and went running. Stinky was at a friend's and asked me if she could have a girls' night until around 9:30 when they would all go to another friend's house to sleepover. No problem. I cooked up a pizza, they ate and then left dorky Myspace comments under their friend's accounts and watched a scary movie and traded their favorite lines from Team America. When I got a little too overwhelmed with all the thirteenyearoldishness of it all, I retired to Coadster's room. Then the phone calls started. First my friend H. called to say she was supposed to meet some friends at the beer garden at the Picador and she was going to drag Colleen along after all. Then I called my friend K. to try to get her to join us. I like all my friends to meet each other, because they all kick ass and I'm sure we'll have fun. I've been trying for the last year or two to get K. and Colleen to meet. Then Colleen called to say they were going to leave around 9:30.

All the thirteen year old girls cleared out of my house and I left to meet the other girls at the bar. My friend K. never made it, but we still have tomorrow night. Most of the people I sat with hadn't been to this particular establishment since it got cleaned up about a year ago, and at first, all they could talk about was how appreciative they were of the tidy new bathrooms. Our "only going out for one drink" turned into two or so and suddenly it was 11:30. Shit. On my way out, I ran into my friend BK who told me I should stay longer. When I whined about having to get up and work tomorrow, he laughed at me. I know he has to get up as early as I do, but I'm way older than him. I love pulling the old lady card, because nobody calls you on it.

Okay. I'm sure this is one of the most poorly written blog posts ever, but I'm half-drunk and it's late and I'm tired and I'm older than most of you. There. Was that enough excuses? I got a million of 'em...

Telephone Line, Give Me Some Time, I'm Living in Twilight

Here's me from a group photo we took at work last week. I cut the rest of my co-workers out since I don't have to see them for FIVE WHOLE DAYS, so fuck 'em. Don't I look really tense? That's because I haven't had three days off in a row since August. Who knows? Maybe I'll do an "after the vacation" shot of me passed-out with an empty bottle of Jack in my hand, looking ever so relaxed on Sunday.

So, the big news today is that I bought a toy. And like every red blooded American woman, I like my toys. While this toy isn't quite as much fun as some I could have purchased, I'm still excited about it. Yup, I got me a cell phone.

When Coadster and I went into the store, the sales woman asked me if I was looking for a phone to do more organizational and business related tasks and I immediately said, "Ew. No, gross." Then she asked if I wanted something that would be more media friendly, so I could use it as an MP3 player and stuff. "Okay, now you're talking." So, I got me a KRZR, and I got it in red. It is really, really pretty. I also bought the music essentials kit and the chip thing so I can download about a thousand songs. I feel so hip and cool and modern now that I finally took that flying leap into the nineties.

I'm super excited about having an Mp3 player so I can listen to music when I run. I used to always carry a Walkman in the eighties, but I had to wean myself from it when I lived in San Francisco and worked two jobs from six am at Bakers of Paris, until around ten pm when my shift as a bartender at Macy's Department store ended. It wasn't all that safe running in the city at night and I had to be able to hear if Mr. Stranger Danger was approaching. Now, though? Now, I usually run after work, when it's light and I live in Iowa, so I can go back to listening to funky, funky fresh grooves on my headphones. Plus, I'll be carrying my phone and I can just dial 911 when Mr. Stranger Danger approaches. Once again, it's pure, unadulterated awesomeness.

Okay, now leave me the hell alone while I go play with my pretty new toy.

p.s. Thanks to all you guys who left me suggestions for comic books and graphic novels in the comments of my last post. I can't tell you how happy I am to have such great geek advice.

Your Everlasting Summer, You Can See it Fading Fast

Here are some ditch lilies for you.

Well, kids... Uh, yeah. I'm a little worse for wear today and it's all my own fault. It seems I am forty-one years old, but my brain still functions like it did when I was fifteen. Which means, that everything I did on Saturday night seemed like a great idea while it was going on, but I completely forgot that it might not feel quite so awesome the next day. Apparently, I am a genius.

I try to be careful about telling people how great I think my girls are. Part of it is that, yeah, yeah, we all know that everyone loves their own kids and thinks they're amazing and blah and blah and blah. The other part is that I know the minute I get all gushy about them, is right about the time I come home to find them both pregnant, clutching their forties wrapped in paper bags and partying with bikers in my living room. So, at the risk of bringing on behavior worthy of an After School Special, all I can say is that my daughters were totally kick-ass today. While I was "resting", they either quietly listened to music and read or watched movies. They didn't even fight all day. The best part, is that they didn't ask me why I was being all lame and zoned-out, they must have just assumed I had a migraine. A lie of omission isn't a real lie, is it?