Holy Shit!! Where the Hell Have I Been?!?

Billings, Montana is where Donny and I spent Thanksgiving to visit the in-laws and they don't drink so I don't have any embarassing drunk stories to report. Actually, I thinks that's kind of good considering how I was getting shit faced every other night...although that was pretty fun too.

Anyway, turkey day at the in-laws. Both Ma and Pa have lost a combined 80 pounds! Holy f-ing shit. They look awesome. If you haven't been able to deduct from my previous posts, I have issues with food and going to Montana basically sends me into a tailspin. I normally try to lose weight before I go there, which means I actually gain weight because I'm retarded. A typical meal at the in-laws consists of lots of butter, lard and red meat with side helpings of mashed potatoes and bread. There are NEVER any vegatables, fruit or any other healthy foods to speak of...anywhere! On top of that, Ma is a food pusher! I would much rather her be an alcohol or pill pusher...anything but food! God love Ma, but if you're in the vicinity of the kitchen (which basically includes the entire house and surrounding acres) there's always the "Did you want any (insert any type of unhealthy food here)?" It's so hard to resist because she is just trying to make people happy, but it is really a form a torture for an f-ed up person like me.

After a day or two, the walls feel like they are closing in on me!! I have nowhere to turn and I enevitably gain even more weight. I absolutely love it when my jeans fit me before the trip and on the last day I have to lay down on the bed and completely suck in my gut to coerse the stupid zipper to the top. Love rockin' the tight jeans. It's basically the hottest thing since the early 90's.

But this trip was much different. Ma and Pa are both on Weight Watchers now and they are completely obsessed with the whole points system. Ma had her "bible" out the entire time. The "bible" is an informational book provided by Weight Watchers that determines the number of point(s) a serving of a particular food has. On top of that, they weighed almost 5 times a day...seriously. This scared me a little (I'm usually the one who is scary).

I guess I can't complain. I had steamed broccoli and some desert that had only 5 points in the entire pan (what the hell? Is that supposed to be good?).

So now I'm back home and back to the grind. I think I hate working. I have so many other things that I could be doing with my time beside staring at a f-ing computer screen. I'll save that rant for another day...


Can't wait to the f-ing holiday season is over! Only one more month and 10 more pounds to go!!

Embarrassing Moment #786

So....Las Vegas...Viva Las Vegas!!

Last weekend, my husband and I made the journey to Vegas to visit some friends of ours. Since they reside in Vegas and my husband and I live in San Diego, we probably meet up about 3 times a year, which includes an annual camping trip.

I have been contemplating whether or not to write about the unfortunate events that took place on our second evening because, yes, it is that embarrassing (even for me). Let's just start from the beginning...

Tim and Sasha are our friends (or were our friends). The first night did not encompass anything too out of the ordinary. Yes, there was drinking, drunkenness and gambling, but nothing that would leave a permanent emotional scar. The next night, however, is a completely different affair.

So we wake up the next morning (Sasha has to work) and start to contemplate the best ways to occupy our time. We decide to check out the Wynn, which is f-ing amazing. Tim, Donny and myself were feeling the effects of consuming too much alcohol the night before and we needed a pick-me-up (a.k.a. more alcohol).

We ordered a drink from a lounge/bar inside the hotel and afterwards we each had an extra bounce in our step. We made our departure from the hotel to a gas station, where "roadies" sounded pretty damn good.

Side note: Roadies are alcoholic beverages, preferably Miller Lite talls, that are consumed in your vehicle while traveling from one location to the next. The purpose of a roadie is to keep the all important buzz sustained because everyone knows that you can not have fun without alcohol. Roadies can also be used for medicinal purposes. For instance, if you are feeling a little hungover from the night before, you have the option to prolong a pounding headache by consuming a roadie on the way to work.

I'm already feeling a wee bit tipsy from the drink in the bar (probably because I was still drunk when I woke up) and after I choked down the 24 ounces of Miller Lite, I was pretty much shit faced. We haven't even met up with Sasha at this point and it's still daylight. I could have taken the aforementioned as foreshadowing of the events to come, but I didn't care at that point.

After Sasha gets off of work, we all eat some veggies, drink more and head out to Fremont Street. We devour a delicious dinner and I decided that it was appropriate to order a shot of tequila in the middle of it (more foreshadowing anyone???). I'm able to behave myself at dinner except when I tried to get a picture taken of myself and Donny...in an awkward moment. Thank God the camera ran out of batteries.

With our bodies fueled with nutrition, we head off to the slot machines at Mermaids. Mermaids is a wonderful place. It has a sort of cheap disgusting appeal to it. There are many different characters that loiter this particular casino. We find our seats at Tim and Sasha's favorite spot. I asked our cocktail waitress for a shot of tequila, but they don't do shots...so I resort to ordering a tequila and water. When I received the drink, it was very, very dark. I think they forgot about the water. Oh well, more for me!

This is when the events of the evening began to take a turn for the worse.

I end up going to a strip club because I've never been and I wanted to see what was so special about them...besides the obvious. Sasha was so kind as to escort me. Another tequila and water later I'm PLASTERED.

We meet up with the guys. Then something, something, something happened...it's too much of a blur (but I am positive that more drinking was involved). The next thing I remember is we're at another casino and Tim and Donny asking me if Sasha is in the bathroom. So I run into the bathroom and yell for Sasha. She yells back.

I literally jog out to where Donny and Tim are and say, "She's in there." They look at my me like I'm a freakin' retard and then say, "Well, go get her!"

At my level of severe intoxication, these men were being annoying, I just wanted to gamble and win all my money back.

I go back into the bathroom and jog back out. They ask, "Is she in there?" I promptly reply, "Nope!" Of course she was still in the bathroom, but she wasn't coming out anytime soon and I had gambling to do! I punch Donny in the diaphragm in order to gamble away $20, which took all of two minutes. I was sent to the bathroom to retrieve Sasha about five more times before she actually came out of the stall.

It was time to go home.

Then we had to wait for the valet. We had to wait a LONG time for the valet. I vaguely remember Sasha and I dry heaving over the sides of our respective benches we were occupying. I decided that dry heaving wasn't appropriate in public and proceeded to dance...in the street...like Elvis.

At this point, everyone pretended they didn't know who the hell I was. People would walk by and ask, "Is that your friend?" They avoided all eye contact with me and said that I was just some crazy lady.

A cop on a bicycle came by and looked like he wanted to throw me in the clink, but luckily for me, he just kept peddling.

Finally, our chariot arrived and this very long night came to an end.

I have never quite mastered the art of marathon drinking. I've always been a sprinter. For now on, I think I just stick to what I'm good at.

Time Goes By Way To F-ing Fast

In less than two months I will be celebrating my 26th birthday. Actually, my plan is to stop celebrating birthdays altogether. I'm going to be 25 for the rest of my life. I know I could probably get away with it for the next five years and I don't really ever look further than five years into my future, so I'm good for now.

But I will always know the dark truth...I'm getting (gulp) OLD! I could never understand when 50 year olds would say, "Geez, I still feel like I'm 20." And now I can completely comprehend that. I still don't feel a day over 19 (but thank the good Lord that I am no longer a teenager) and I don't know where the hell the time went!

I remember my freshman year in college at University of Colorado. That was a tough year. I would go for these runs in the beginning of the semester and just pray for the leaves to start turning colors and falling off the trees because then at least I knew the year wasn't going to last forever.

Boy, was that the most idiotic mind set of the century. What in the hell was I thinking by wishing away the "best" years of my life? And make no mistake, college did encompass the best years of my life. It was a time when being poor was actually kind of fun and getting wasted before a final wasn't a huge shocker or when drinking games began at 2:00 in the afternoon and lasted well into the next morning. The best part of all being that this behavior was socially acceptable.

I still get wasted, but instead of being labeled "party animal," (which included wearing all of my drinking mishaps like a badge) I'm now closer to an "alcoholic" (which means I relive my embarrassing moments in a veil of shame...alone).

I guess everyone has to become a mature and well behaved adult at some point and time, but I associate the aforementioned characteristics with an old smelly lady (I'm only one out of those three words and I'm not old or a lady).

Athletes Find a Way

That's my new motto thanks to my boss. Basically, it's just another way of saying, "don't give me any f-ing excuses and get the job done." I like it and I believe I can apply this clever saying in other areas of my life as well.

Athletes find a way to:

1. Fight off the embarrassment and take that crap in the work lavatory that has been fermenting in your ass for the last 4 hours.

2. Have the courage and come out of the bathroom after you just took the greasiest shit that smells like rotten feet and eggs mixed together.

3. Hold your head high when you notice a coworker waiting to use the only women's bathroom on the floor. And don't beat yourself up for not flushing the toilet twice...she'll probably think you dropped some chocolate in the water.

4. Vomit in a styrofoam cup (and not miss) while their husbands are driving and there's no where to pull over.

5. Have sex at least three times a week.

6. To get home, even if you are stranded, drunk and naked.

7. Hold in explosive diarrhea while jogging until a squatting place can be found. Then, and only then, can you shit battery acid, wipe your ass with stray leaves and continue your run (while you can still feel liquid residue squish between your cheeks).

8. Get wasted, puke, not get any on you, and walk back into the bar like nothing happened.

9. Emit a rancid odor out of your ass and successfully blame it on someone else.

10. Not eat every single piece of Halloween candy in the office, which was actually meant for the customers.

If the above does not describe what an athlete stands for, I don't know what will. Talk about facing adversity and being able to come out on top, standing up to your worst fears and conquering them, and generally becoming the person others aspire to be.

I think I will forward this on to my boss and ask his professional opinion. I'm serious.

Vegas Baby

Since I work for a bank, I have bull shit bank holidays. For instance, next Friday is Veteran's Day and people who work for banks have the entire day off. I'm not a veteran of any war or social conflict so why should I have the freakin' day off? Makes no sense to me, but that's the last that I'm going to complain about it because it's a paid holiday. I love me some paid holidays.

My husband and I have decided to visit some friends in Las Vegas...yea, that's what I'm talkin' about. I'm so excited to get out of dodge for a couple of days. We're flying out on Thursday at like one o'clock in the afternoon so we can make sure to get in a full day's worth of catching up (or drinking). One of our friends told us that our livers were never going to be the same. Okay, now I'm a little scared.

I have a problem with pacing myself when I begin an all day drinking-athon. Actually, I have a pacing problem if I just go to happy hour. For instance, let's say that I meet up with some coworkers to have "a" beer after work. I have the attention span of a gnat. I'll show up and chit-chat a little with everyone and get bored. I know I can't politely excuse myself after 15 minutes so I start chugging beers. Same thing if I my husband and I get together with a couple of friends to watch Monday Night Football. I can't stand sitting in one place for too long and I end up making the hosts take shots with me (with my husband staring at me disapprovingly from the other side of the room).

The thing that I'm worried about with starting to drink early is wanting to pass out. When I get drunk and want to go to bed, I'll just lay on the street and take a nap. This is something I could get away with while living in Montana, but it's a whole new story in California and I should probably forego passing out on the Vegas Strip.

And I can't recover like I used to. I never thought I would start to feel the effect of aging so soon. It's hard to admit, but I can't handle my liquor like I used to (and for the record, "handling liquor" was never really my strong suit). I can't drink all day and all night and just have one day of recovery. No, those days are long gong. I need multiple recovery days now.

I've thought about kicking booze to the corner... seriously I have, but there's just so many social situations in which drinking is an unwritten rule (at least that's the excuse I'm sticking with). Additionally, and this may sound juvenile, but I like to have a little liquor courage once in a while. Alcohol is a great ice breaker for people who are just beginning to get acquainted with each other. Most of us still have these perceived inadequacies and we want to make the best impression possible. I like to think I make a great impression when I'm shit faced. Slurring, swearing and being generally tactless are all excellent ways to make a good impression on someone...maybe when I was in high school (maybe).

Now I'm 25 (and heading towards 26 at warp speed) and I still party like a rock star. Honestly, I think the only way of veering of the party path is to...have kids. Don't worry, this will be years from now, but honestly I must have way to much time on my hands.

I'm starting school in January. I think working and going to school full time might derail my drinking a little too. That's only two flippin' months away and actually, I'd better get the partying bug out of me because there will be no bs-ing once classes start. I'll have to crack a few beers tonight and think about it.