Hello all from beautiful Federal Way Washington,
Last week I stood at the Southernmost point of the continental U.S. in Key West and now I am all the way up on the West Coast visiting my other set of Grandparents and Aunt Melanie. It is actually kind of chilly here tonight, which I am totally loving after Mildred the Mazda aka my car informed me that it was 106 degrees outside in Jacksonville the other day. You know you live in Florida when your legs stick to your cloth seats like they would leather. You know you live in Florida when you buy Baby Lips chapstick multiple times a month because if you leave yours in the car for 2.5 minutes, it has melted like the wicked witch in the Wizard of Oz.
Enough of the crappy "You know you are in Florida when..." sayings though. I want to go back to a time three summers ago on a hot day, like the other day in my car, when Cassie and I moved into the notorious apartment 13311 in Tallahassee to begin the college chapter of our lives. It was just 2 weeks ago that I put my electronic key into the garnet painted door to lock it for the last time and bid 13311 a bittersweet goodbye. I must say, I got progressively sadder as Cassie and I painted the cheetah print walls that Taytum's Mom and Nana had so craftily painted back to the industrial white over this past summer to get it move in ready for the next pack of roommates. It was like we were painting over memories and stories that the walls would tell if only they could talk. At this moment, I am glad walls aren't able to tattle on the things they have been privy to since we started living there. The tales range from amazing to crazy to good to ugly to sexy to you-better-not-tell-anyone-or-I'll-hacksaw-you-in-half to best moments of my life.
Cassie and I had just gotten through our last day of orientation when my Nanny and Momma Ruby (Cassie's mom) decided to inform us that the apartment we had picked out online was not adequate for our taste in real life and that they had canceled the lease. How that happened I have no idea. Most places won't let you do it without some epic legal battle. I suppose Momma Ruby worked her wicked black magic. Seriously, I have never met someone who can pull strings and do whatever she wants like Ruby does. Also, she wins everything. Any kind of raffle, radio show give away, pick the lucky duck in the pond, etc. If it can be won, Ruby will win it. She won the same radio contest twice before. She's definitely a wizard.
Well, the dilemma then came, where were we to live? We only had a few weeks to find a place and most places were filling up or full. We should have known that they had already conspired and fixed this problem for us. We drove to a place called Boardwalk at Appleyard apartments. Upon pulling up we could tell it was nice. We were met upon arrival by a tan skinned man with slicked back black hair. He had a Rico Suave vibe about him with a slick voice to match. He led us into the model apartment and we instantly fell in love. It was spacious, pretty, the rooms had queen beds and we would each have a bathroom to ourselves. I distinctly remember trying to find something wrong with the place and I made the comment, "the bathrooms are small," but there was a little voice inside me saying where do we sign up?
Nanny and Ruby had already taken care of that too. We were already signed up and just needed to put our John Hancock on a few papers.
A few weeks latter, laden down with boxes, bedspreads and baseball bats (my boyfriend at the time gave me one to "protect myself" with), we pulled around to the apartment we were supposed to move into. Rico Suave aka Francis told us we would be moving into a newly cleaned all ready to go apartment. With the little buzzing sound the electronic key made and a swing of a door, we knew all too well that the apartment hadn't been cleaned in months, if ever. There was stuff everywhere and a family of roaches had made Gaylord Resort out of this apartment. They were everywhere! If Nanny had been about to faint because of the stains on the runner boards, she was practically on the floor from the roaches. Ruby stormed up to the front and demanded we be moved immediately. The poor soul up at the front desk apologized frantically saying there had been a mistake and handed us a new set of keys to apartment 13311. It was all the way in the back, but I saw the silver lining. At least it wasn't next to the creepy woods. Cassie liked the fact that the bus stop was right outside our door as well so things were looking up.
We thought, second time must be a charm. With a silent prayer I slid my key into the spaceage lock and opened the door to find something more peculiar than the roaches and a dirty apartment.
From our post in the door frame, we could see a large, dark figure on the couch. And it was breathing! Well snoring actually. You see, we had interrupted the sleep of a very large black man. He was about as big as Hagrid from Harry Potter and was as startled to see us as we were to see him in lounging form. His name has slipped my mind now, but he was a security guard for Boardwalk and he had been living there. He moved rapidly around the apartment grabbing Gatorade bottles and clothes while apologizing frantically. Stunned and shocked, we proceeded to move in after he left swiftly out the door.
Now, with moving into a new place that other people have lived in before, I knew we would probably hit a few snags with whatever problems they had left behind. My bed was one of them. I am not sure what was done on this bed to make it feel and sound the way it did, but it sounded like it had been put in a very large washing machine on the deep wash cycle. It was probably just an old mattress that needed to be replaced. Every time I simply turned over in the bed, it sounded like I was making a dirty movie with how much it squeaked and squealed. My next door neighbors probably thought I was either a slut or just very very lucky.
My very favorite malady this apartment brought with it was the refrigerator. My Nanny, Mom, and Momma Ruby had all went to Sam's to stock Cassie and I up on Ramen Noodles, Eggo Waffles, and all sorts of other college cuisine type foods. They spent a lot of money on bulk freezer items to last us for a while. One night upon coming home starving for some salad with grilled chicken on top, I called Cassie to see if she wanted me to make enough for her. Of course she did, girl can barely boil water without burning the house down. I was chatting with her on the phone to help pass the time until she got there. I proceeded to grab the chicken breast out of the freezer so I could put it on our little grill when something made me swear and scream. Something very warm and wet hit my feet.
For about two seconds, I had no idea what was going on. I had a moment of terror thinking that my water had just broken like I was pregnant or something. Cassie and I went through an obsessive phase with a show called "I Didn't Know I was Pregnant" and there were all sorts of horrific recounts of women who had no idea they were pregnant and randomly had babies on boats and in toilets. After a moment of rational, I figured out that the semi thick pale pink liquid was from the bag of chicken I had just pulled from the freezer. I was confused. How on earth could it have been all watery if it was in the freezer? I pulled the freezer door back open only to realize that it was obviously broken. There was water all in the freezer from everything melting. My favorite was a tub of strawberry ice cream that had gotten frothy from the heat and foamed up out of the carton to fill the freezer with a pink, sticky, foamy mess. It looked like Barbie threw up in there! I was literally gagging as I mopped up the goopy chicken disgustingness off my feet and off my floor. Needless to say, we ate out that night and I had completely lost my appetite for grilled chicken salad.
As I am writing this blog, I have decided to do a segment called "The Dirtay Threes." It will be all about the misadventures in apartment 13311 with all the roommates I came to love or leave behind in life. Get ready y'all, it is going to be a fun ride in the Dirtay Three posts.
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Classy Girls Don't Kiss in Bars
Hello all,
It has been a minute since I last posted, but I have been out in the world trying to do blog worthy things. I am not a fan of uninteresting writing so I try not not write if I feel it may bore my readers to tears and slitting their wrists. Since my last, I have been on a vacation, attended a truly wild 21st birthday party, almost gotten fired, moved out of the infamous 13311 (my apartment in Tallahassee) and started drinking Plexus. Yep, all totally blog worthy.
So since most of my friends were born in or around 1991/92, 2013 has not only been the year of the snake, but for me it has been the year of the 21st birthday waltz. Seriously, I have never partied so much in my life. I'm just not much of a party person. Literally, the first time I ever got drunk was at my apartment in Tallahassee with Ashley and Cassie. Since I had never been drunk we decided to just take shots all night until we couldn't anymore. These two dorks ended up sleeping under our coffee table with Mulan playing in the background. I was remixing the cute innocent Disney songs in my mind whilst trying to get these girls into their beds. Instead of "we must be swift as a coursing river" I was all like "we must be swift as a shot of vodka." Cassie refused to move and said, "She's warm" and snuggled closer to Ashley. I was the only one who crawled into bed that night, Cassie smacked her head on the table in the wee hours of the morning thinking she was in her bed and not under a coffee table. The audible thud made me giggle under my sheets in my own squeaky sorry excuse for a bed. My poor neighbors probably got tired of the spring loaded sounds produced by sexy nature and thought I was working for an escort service with how much noise my bed made. Little did they know I was simply rolling over, not roll playing a scene from Fifty Shades of Grey.
But back to the 21st birthday party I just attended a few weeks ago. It feels so weird for me to say weeks, I have truly missed my blog. It is like my baby and I feel as though I have abandoned it. But she is as tough as I am, a little time apart never hurt nobody. Mrs. Norman would likely point out my double negative here. How I made it through her class just baffles me.
Everyone remembers Sarah right? I have talked about her in a few posts before. Well, since about September of last year we have gotten really close. It is kind of creepy how alike we are in some aspects. It may also be creepy that her brother is so freaking hot to me. Sarah likes my brother Tyler too, so naturally I suggested a trade.
Like most of my other friends this year, Sarah turned 21 in July. Having been through my own birthday waltz, I refused to let her celebrate with just any old party. I was determined that she would celebrate with a waltz with the sign, rules, no memories, etc. She of course, was totally down for it. I could tell she was getting progressively more excited about it as the month of June inched closer into July. My sweet little niece doesn't give her many nights out as she must have her chocolate milk and back scratched at a precise time. Meaning, whenever she starts screaming for milk and says, "No, that's not right. Scratch under the shirt (insert whoever she has deemed her slave for the day's name)." She really is so deserving of the princess treatment though, those baby blues just melt Caraboo's heart and she gets whatever she wants. And she says the most intelligent things I have ever heard from a 2 year old. She has enlightened me that big people cannot fit through little doors, and that hearts are behind titties. How priceless! Needless to say, Sarah was in need for the first night out she had had in as long as I had started hanging out with her again.
Since everyone who was attending the party was 21 or over, Sarah decided that we would go to the beaches in Jacksonville, rent a hotel room, and hit all of the bars down there for two days straight. By the way, don't try to go into one of those bars down there with a fake ID. Those bouncers have Superman powers and see right through you and your illegal piece of plastic. I was selfishly excited to go to the beaches since I'd never been on that party scene. I knew that it was going to be Cassie's birthday party for me all over again, with one major modification: I would not be puking pink like a pepto-bismol volcano all over the pub floor. So when we took our first shots with our friends Destiny, Jessica, Amy, and Ashley, we toasted to having as much fun as possible without getting sick. As that disgusting shot of whatever horrible liquor that was slid down my throat, burning all the way, my inner Cara rolled her eyes and said, "Yeah right, might as well put a pillow by the toilet tonight." I pleasantly punched her in the arm in my mind and told her to shut up and that I could handle this. I should come up with another name for my conscious, any suggestions? Leave a comment and let me know.
We started out the night with dinner at a place called the Blue Water Grill. There are two levels to this place and our reservations were upstairs. One of the girls with us had on a very skimpy dress that didn't leave anything to the imagination. This included her panty line, so she left those at home. As we walked up the stairs, a man downstairs literally looked right up her barely there hemline. Like I know it was practically serving itself on an invisible platter, but avert your eyes asshole.
Our waitress had just started working at this place the night before. Poor girl, she probably handed in her resignation and 2 weeks notice as soon as we walked out. It was Sarah, Ashley, Amy, Jessica, Destiny, Nabila, Sarah's mom and stepdad, me, and I feel like I am leaving others out.... But there was a large number of us all demanding hurricanes and tsunamis and any other natural disaster that could be poured into a pretty glass. The girl looked as though she might quit and run crying by the end of the night. Part of me felt bad, the other part was buzzing on some sort of cataclysmic event of nature.
Everything was going very well. We had good food, frozen mudslides, floods, tornadoes, and great conversation. At some point, this boy who one of the girls wanted to see that night showed up looking more country than a cowlick in his boots and cut off sleeve shirt. I guess he didn't get the memo that the waltz theme was Models and Bottles.
Now, for those of you who don't know me, I like to talk about my ex boyfriends when I have had a few. And, if I am being honest, maybe also the "other girl" who the boyfriend dragged into our love line and made it a retarded triangle. Yeah, I can say some nasty things about these cats. Like I will tell a light switch about it if there is nobody else in the room. It is weird for me because normally I am just so peace, love and chicken wings, but after a few Bud Lite Limes or whatever, I just rant so hard about the exes and the stupid girls who let themselves get involved. I can go from, "Well, it really wasn't her fault," to "Bitch wears soooooooo much eye makeup, she looks like a raccoon," quicker than you want to bite into a lime after a shot of Patron.
Needless to say, I kind of just start getting bitter about males in general. So when this Luke Bryan wannabe walked up to our table with a fat dip in his lip, I was a bit perturbed. It reminded me of an ex who dipped after like every meal and it drove me crazy. And this guy was doing it right at the table. I was so angry about it in fact that I stopped mid conversation with Amy and Destiny to say to this stranger, "Excuse me good sir? Yeah while you are at this dinner table in front of all of us beautiful women, I am going to need you to spit that nasty dip out." I can quote this word for word because Amy found it incredibly funny and has repeated it to me several times since. He didn't. What an ass!
Party time wise, things escalated pretty quickly from there. There were rounds of frozen alcoholic drinks and the food was served. I was so excited about my sweet potato fries (probably a little more excited than usual thanks to my hurricanes). My delight was totally ruined when this guy who I didn't know, who wasn't with our party at all, just strolled up and stuck his hand into my fries and started to eat them...... WAIT, HOLD THE FREAKING PHONE!!!?!?!?!?!? ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?!?! I looked at him, and freaked out and was like, "Are you going to pay for those b(*&$#?" Like who just comes up and starts eating some stranger girl's sweet potato fries?! Serious party foul. His girlfriend came up and pushed him along and apologized to me and took care of that part of the bill and bought the whole table a round of shots. If only everyone could apologize like this girl did!
There was another party going on right next to our table. It was for a guy's birthday. He didn't exactly look like he was enjoying the drinking, but his friends were pushing him with more and more. Eventually we got the idea that he would be the perfect victim for one of Sarah's waltz things to do which was to take a body shot off of a stranger. His whole table was totally down for it and literally picked him up and laid him across a makeshift platform made of chairs. One girl in his group snatched his shirt up to reveal a grizzly bear hairy tummy. He was quite cute though so in my mind, it wasn't too bad trade off. Sarah's mom aka Ma-P, started shrieking "Sarah DON'T DO IT!!!!" but we were all forcing her over there, nose first towards his belly button full of booze. She did me proud and licked it all up. Ma P looked like she was about to faint.
Everyone in both parties thought it would only be fair if the boy took a body shot off of Sarah. Seeing as she couldn't just lift up her dress, the guy's party declared a titty shot. The same girl who forced the man to pull his shirt up slammed Sarah down in a chair and shoved a shot glass between her breasts. The guy was so nervous looking, but succumbed to the pressure of his peers and of our table all screaming "TITTY SHOT!" loud enough for the whole strip to hear. He got down on his knees and expertly lifted the shot glass via mouth and turned his head up draining the liquid out of it. He was all, "Look Ma, no hands!"
After quite an eventful dinner, we hit up a most of the bars. At one that I do not recall the name of, I decided to dance. For those of you who know me, you know I dance badly. For those of you who haven't had the distinctly interesting pleasure yet, just youtube bad mascot dances and you will probably get the picture. I don't dance. But tonight I made an exception and did. And some guy decided to dance with me, which is about as rare of an occurrence as a unicorn crossing highway 90. And I decided that I didn't care that he was dancing with me. And I decided to kiss him. Or maybe it was he who decided that. But we did. Multiple times.... Oh my stars, I never ever do stuff like that! This girl doesn't make out with strangers at a bar! What in the actual heck? I felt so mad because that Classy Girls song by The Lumineers declares that classy girls don't kiss in bars. That was definitely a first, and probably a last since I hear you don't meet your sweetheart by smooching next to the bar stools. I am proud to say I at least asked his name, it was Carl. I shouted several times that that is my stepdad's name and eventually decided that I should get away from Carl. My flight of fight senses must have been tingling or something, even though I do not recall him looking like a creep. I am told he was good looking. Amen and Praise the Lord that he didn't have a fever blister.
I wasn't the only one knocking boots on the dance floor. The birthday girl found some guy that she works with (I think) and said she needed to get 21 birthday kisses. Normally people just do a quick peck on the cheek to fulfill this waltz obligation. But not Sarah. She ran the distance of the whole make-out mile! I've got the pictures to prove it.
Never forget that your friends are always there to gather blackmail on you. It is just more unfortunate for the blackmailee if that friend has a blog that a few people read like I just so happen to have. It is okay though, I sometimes normally do or maybe not ask her about what I can and cannot post on here. This may or may not be one of those times.
We were done with that night at some point. I laid down thinking not much of anything, but what I did think was, we achieved our goal, nobody was sick. But that was just day one.
It has been a minute since I last posted, but I have been out in the world trying to do blog worthy things. I am not a fan of uninteresting writing so I try not not write if I feel it may bore my readers to tears and slitting their wrists. Since my last, I have been on a vacation, attended a truly wild 21st birthday party, almost gotten fired, moved out of the infamous 13311 (my apartment in Tallahassee) and started drinking Plexus. Yep, all totally blog worthy.
So since most of my friends were born in or around 1991/92, 2013 has not only been the year of the snake, but for me it has been the year of the 21st birthday waltz. Seriously, I have never partied so much in my life. I'm just not much of a party person. Literally, the first time I ever got drunk was at my apartment in Tallahassee with Ashley and Cassie. Since I had never been drunk we decided to just take shots all night until we couldn't anymore. These two dorks ended up sleeping under our coffee table with Mulan playing in the background. I was remixing the cute innocent Disney songs in my mind whilst trying to get these girls into their beds. Instead of "we must be swift as a coursing river" I was all like "we must be swift as a shot of vodka." Cassie refused to move and said, "She's warm" and snuggled closer to Ashley. I was the only one who crawled into bed that night, Cassie smacked her head on the table in the wee hours of the morning thinking she was in her bed and not under a coffee table. The audible thud made me giggle under my sheets in my own squeaky sorry excuse for a bed. My poor neighbors probably got tired of the spring loaded sounds produced by sexy nature and thought I was working for an escort service with how much noise my bed made. Little did they know I was simply rolling over, not roll playing a scene from Fifty Shades of Grey.
But back to the 21st birthday party I just attended a few weeks ago. It feels so weird for me to say weeks, I have truly missed my blog. It is like my baby and I feel as though I have abandoned it. But she is as tough as I am, a little time apart never hurt nobody. Mrs. Norman would likely point out my double negative here. How I made it through her class just baffles me.
Everyone remembers Sarah right? I have talked about her in a few posts before. Well, since about September of last year we have gotten really close. It is kind of creepy how alike we are in some aspects. It may also be creepy that her brother is so freaking hot to me. Sarah likes my brother Tyler too, so naturally I suggested a trade.
Like most of my other friends this year, Sarah turned 21 in July. Having been through my own birthday waltz, I refused to let her celebrate with just any old party. I was determined that she would celebrate with a waltz with the sign, rules, no memories, etc. She of course, was totally down for it. I could tell she was getting progressively more excited about it as the month of June inched closer into July. My sweet little niece doesn't give her many nights out as she must have her chocolate milk and back scratched at a precise time. Meaning, whenever she starts screaming for milk and says, "No, that's not right. Scratch under the shirt (insert whoever she has deemed her slave for the day's name)." She really is so deserving of the princess treatment though, those baby blues just melt Caraboo's heart and she gets whatever she wants. And she says the most intelligent things I have ever heard from a 2 year old. She has enlightened me that big people cannot fit through little doors, and that hearts are behind titties. How priceless! Needless to say, Sarah was in need for the first night out she had had in as long as I had started hanging out with her again.
Since everyone who was attending the party was 21 or over, Sarah decided that we would go to the beaches in Jacksonville, rent a hotel room, and hit all of the bars down there for two days straight. By the way, don't try to go into one of those bars down there with a fake ID. Those bouncers have Superman powers and see right through you and your illegal piece of plastic. I was selfishly excited to go to the beaches since I'd never been on that party scene. I knew that it was going to be Cassie's birthday party for me all over again, with one major modification: I would not be puking pink like a pepto-bismol volcano all over the pub floor. So when we took our first shots with our friends Destiny, Jessica, Amy, and Ashley, we toasted to having as much fun as possible without getting sick. As that disgusting shot of whatever horrible liquor that was slid down my throat, burning all the way, my inner Cara rolled her eyes and said, "Yeah right, might as well put a pillow by the toilet tonight." I pleasantly punched her in the arm in my mind and told her to shut up and that I could handle this. I should come up with another name for my conscious, any suggestions? Leave a comment and let me know.
We started out the night with dinner at a place called the Blue Water Grill. There are two levels to this place and our reservations were upstairs. One of the girls with us had on a very skimpy dress that didn't leave anything to the imagination. This included her panty line, so she left those at home. As we walked up the stairs, a man downstairs literally looked right up her barely there hemline. Like I know it was practically serving itself on an invisible platter, but avert your eyes asshole.
Our waitress had just started working at this place the night before. Poor girl, she probably handed in her resignation and 2 weeks notice as soon as we walked out. It was Sarah, Ashley, Amy, Jessica, Destiny, Nabila, Sarah's mom and stepdad, me, and I feel like I am leaving others out.... But there was a large number of us all demanding hurricanes and tsunamis and any other natural disaster that could be poured into a pretty glass. The girl looked as though she might quit and run crying by the end of the night. Part of me felt bad, the other part was buzzing on some sort of cataclysmic event of nature.
Everything was going very well. We had good food, frozen mudslides, floods, tornadoes, and great conversation. At some point, this boy who one of the girls wanted to see that night showed up looking more country than a cowlick in his boots and cut off sleeve shirt. I guess he didn't get the memo that the waltz theme was Models and Bottles.
Now, for those of you who don't know me, I like to talk about my ex boyfriends when I have had a few. And, if I am being honest, maybe also the "other girl" who the boyfriend dragged into our love line and made it a retarded triangle. Yeah, I can say some nasty things about these cats. Like I will tell a light switch about it if there is nobody else in the room. It is weird for me because normally I am just so peace, love and chicken wings, but after a few Bud Lite Limes or whatever, I just rant so hard about the exes and the stupid girls who let themselves get involved. I can go from, "Well, it really wasn't her fault," to "Bitch wears soooooooo much eye makeup, she looks like a raccoon," quicker than you want to bite into a lime after a shot of Patron.
Needless to say, I kind of just start getting bitter about males in general. So when this Luke Bryan wannabe walked up to our table with a fat dip in his lip, I was a bit perturbed. It reminded me of an ex who dipped after like every meal and it drove me crazy. And this guy was doing it right at the table. I was so angry about it in fact that I stopped mid conversation with Amy and Destiny to say to this stranger, "Excuse me good sir? Yeah while you are at this dinner table in front of all of us beautiful women, I am going to need you to spit that nasty dip out." I can quote this word for word because Amy found it incredibly funny and has repeated it to me several times since. He didn't. What an ass!
Party time wise, things escalated pretty quickly from there. There were rounds of frozen alcoholic drinks and the food was served. I was so excited about my sweet potato fries (probably a little more excited than usual thanks to my hurricanes). My delight was totally ruined when this guy who I didn't know, who wasn't with our party at all, just strolled up and stuck his hand into my fries and started to eat them...... WAIT, HOLD THE FREAKING PHONE!!!?!?!?!?!? ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?!?! I looked at him, and freaked out and was like, "Are you going to pay for those b(*&$#?" Like who just comes up and starts eating some stranger girl's sweet potato fries?! Serious party foul. His girlfriend came up and pushed him along and apologized to me and took care of that part of the bill and bought the whole table a round of shots. If only everyone could apologize like this girl did!
There was another party going on right next to our table. It was for a guy's birthday. He didn't exactly look like he was enjoying the drinking, but his friends were pushing him with more and more. Eventually we got the idea that he would be the perfect victim for one of Sarah's waltz things to do which was to take a body shot off of a stranger. His whole table was totally down for it and literally picked him up and laid him across a makeshift platform made of chairs. One girl in his group snatched his shirt up to reveal a grizzly bear hairy tummy. He was quite cute though so in my mind, it wasn't too bad trade off. Sarah's mom aka Ma-P, started shrieking "Sarah DON'T DO IT!!!!" but we were all forcing her over there, nose first towards his belly button full of booze. She did me proud and licked it all up. Ma P looked like she was about to faint.
Everyone in both parties thought it would only be fair if the boy took a body shot off of Sarah. Seeing as she couldn't just lift up her dress, the guy's party declared a titty shot. The same girl who forced the man to pull his shirt up slammed Sarah down in a chair and shoved a shot glass between her breasts. The guy was so nervous looking, but succumbed to the pressure of his peers and of our table all screaming "TITTY SHOT!" loud enough for the whole strip to hear. He got down on his knees and expertly lifted the shot glass via mouth and turned his head up draining the liquid out of it. He was all, "Look Ma, no hands!"
After quite an eventful dinner, we hit up a most of the bars. At one that I do not recall the name of, I decided to dance. For those of you who know me, you know I dance badly. For those of you who haven't had the distinctly interesting pleasure yet, just youtube bad mascot dances and you will probably get the picture. I don't dance. But tonight I made an exception and did. And some guy decided to dance with me, which is about as rare of an occurrence as a unicorn crossing highway 90. And I decided that I didn't care that he was dancing with me. And I decided to kiss him. Or maybe it was he who decided that. But we did. Multiple times.... Oh my stars, I never ever do stuff like that! This girl doesn't make out with strangers at a bar! What in the actual heck? I felt so mad because that Classy Girls song by The Lumineers declares that classy girls don't kiss in bars. That was definitely a first, and probably a last since I hear you don't meet your sweetheart by smooching next to the bar stools. I am proud to say I at least asked his name, it was Carl. I shouted several times that that is my stepdad's name and eventually decided that I should get away from Carl. My flight of fight senses must have been tingling or something, even though I do not recall him looking like a creep. I am told he was good looking. Amen and Praise the Lord that he didn't have a fever blister.
I wasn't the only one knocking boots on the dance floor. The birthday girl found some guy that she works with (I think) and said she needed to get 21 birthday kisses. Normally people just do a quick peck on the cheek to fulfill this waltz obligation. But not Sarah. She ran the distance of the whole make-out mile! I've got the pictures to prove it.
Never forget that your friends are always there to gather blackmail on you. It is just more unfortunate for the blackmailee if that friend has a blog that a few people read like I just so happen to have. It is okay though, I sometimes normally do or maybe not ask her about what I can and cannot post on here. This may or may not be one of those times.
We were done with that night at some point. I laid down thinking not much of anything, but what I did think was, we achieved our goal, nobody was sick. But that was just day one.
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