Category Archives: Very Drunk

5 Reasons Why I’m Annoyed with Moms

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1. Even though you say “I don’t care anymore” when the topic of breastfeeding in public comes up, guess what? I still do.

2. My sister texted me to complain about how our parents are too busy to come down and watch her child for a weekend so she can “get a break.” Let me rephrase that so you better understand, how dare our parents lead their lives so selfishly and not want to spend hundreds of dollars to fly to her house and spend their weekend babysitting her kid. What’s wrong with them? Lets rephrase again, how about what’s wrong with YOU.

3. Moms go everywhere and expect things. I need more napkins, more water, do you have a bag for my stuff? Can’t you see I’m holding a child?

Actually I can see that you are indeed holding a child, my question for you: how long have you known that you had that child? A while now? Couple years maybe? So you usually can’t carry things if you’re holding him/her, is that correct? Maybe you should consider a bag of some kind? Call me I don’t know, crazy or something, what do I know being just a single gal.

4. Your sleep deprivation is an excuse for everything. I don’t feel sorry for you.

I am consistently getting weird hours of sleep, having fucked up dreams, working two jobs and very much looking forward to the end of the night where there is a glass of wine and a bed, but that excuse isn’t good enough unless I’m juggling an infant.

5. This child birthday party thing is madness and it is bullshit. Some older folks I’ve been talking to are like WHAT? YOU were invited to a child’s birthday? How come? I never thought I would get affirmed from someone in their 60’s about non-mother etiquette, but they appear to be the ones with their heads on straight.

Back in their day, the people that attended a kids birthday party were other children and then parents who have the said children whom are attending, and then grandparents, and other family members. Unfortunately recent trends are that friends in general are being invited to children’s parties, regardless of the zero children they have, regardless of their zero interest in attending, and regardless of the fact it’s being held at ten am on a Saturday morning when clearly single folks will be hungover and only interested in nursing coffee and Tylenol on the couch.

The kids birthday party thing is probably what’s pissing me off the most right now. I have been invited to two kids birthdays inside this past month and a half. One I did attend just because the mom though it was SO FUCKING CRUCIAL that I went. Eh, there was a cute boy there, I survived. The second one was a stretch. I think I’ve met that kid a handful of times and talked once, and WHHHHHHHHHHY.

When the moms are upset that I wouldn’t want to come is when I just want to lose all my shit. This is the moment that I screw up and call all kids stupid and tell them that their kids head is shaped funny and where the mom and I ultimately become enemies, because I literally can’t comprehend why I should be forced to go to something that doesn’t apply to me and I REALLY can’t comprehend her attempts to guilt me into it.

I tried to talk to a kid at Pete’s coffee today, I tried to compliment her dress, I really tried. She ended up showing me that it wasn’t a dress but instead a shirt and skirt, as she flashed me there at the condiment car. It was important that I see the separation between the two garments, both a hot pink I might add. I tried to comment further and just got lost calling the outfit a dress again.

There are some days kids are just the worse, then when moms get involved who think that the world spins around them and their motherhood, and this is when I want to start ignoring kids and their mothers all together.

Oh I’m sorry were you talking about your 4 year old’s bounce house? Count me out, bye bye now.

Two Nights

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For some of us single folks, we can have drastically different groups of friends and within each set we can take on very different roles. This can make separate nights bizarrely different from one another.

Last week I had two nights so drastically different from one another it’s comical.On Wednesday night my roommate and I hit the local bars for a bonding night and on Saturday night I attended my married friends barbeque.

Wednesday, when my roomie (yes, the stripper) and I sat down at the bar we had shots within the minute and before I could even pay for my beer there was a second provided to me. My roomie and I learned within the first few minutes there that she loves fireball and I love tequila and how throwing limes can become a fun game.

Saturday at the barbeque I made my best efforts not to open up the wine immediately. The game of pretending that you’re not impatiently waiting for that bottle to get uncorked is long and tiresome. Going through the motions of small talk and making kindly remarks about new pieces of furniture in the house, it’s almost like you have to earn that first glass of wine.

Back at the bar, older men sitting down a ways are buying my roommate more shots, while the bartender is pouring her more drinks, while I start to wonder where the hip hop music is because they advertise Wednesday nights as Hip Hop Night. Are they playing Jewel? This will not do, bring Drake out.

Back at the barbeque we are all talking about different car accidents we’ve recently been in. Different insurance policies cover different things, and your deductible sounds high! Who is your provider?

At the bar I have now become the DJ. I’m now playing all the hip hop music you could ever dream of because the bartender who was supposed to DJ is too busy hitting on and pouring drinks for my roommate, and has decided to let me do whatever I want because I’m her roommate. It’s all about who you know right?

Still on the subject of cars back at the home of the married folks, the wife is explaining to us how the husband got a red car, but red was not on her list of approved colors. The colors she would accept were black, white, grey, or blue. However the wife explained to us that the color is growing on her and we all did our best to compliment what a nice red it is.

The people at the bar are really responding to my song choices. Or maybe I’m just assuming they do since I’m having such a good time dropping it low while holding onto my bar stool for support. I’m trying to ask my roommate what my DJ name should be but she is too busy confessing to the girls sitting near us, that yes she works at a strip club.

We’ve begun eating back at the house and we all rant and rave about how the beef is cooked to perfection. Not too much pink, but just enough.Very juicy! Added just the right amount of sauce. The grilled veggies are also just delightful and it’s apparently a favorite side of theirs to make and there are not too many ingredients involved.

Cut to me now twerking on the bar.

The wife is now getting rather tipsy off her two glasses of wine and we’ve spent far too much time discussing how screwed up the school district is.

It is now nearing midnight back at the bar and I definitely have work in the morning. My roomie is just obliterated with free drinks while I have finally sobered up.

Several glasses deep back at the barbeque and it’s just getting good because my friend and I are doing some mild story telling for the entertainment of the married folks. Unfortunately the tipsy wife is beginning to look really sleepy.

At the bar I try to get my roommate to leave with me. We had said we’d just go out for an hour and now it’s two and a half hours later, but she doesn’t see my logic. She grabs the bartender and gives him a big hug while informing me that this is who she is getting a ride home with. I look at the bartender knowing that he is pretty proud/surprised that he managed to pull this off.

At the house I’m coming up with excuses to leave so wifey doesn’t pass out while were still there. As I’m departing, the married couple chats with us for a bit about getting a dog. What are the advantages of a big dog compared to a small one? Aren’t labs the best?

I had left the bar and was cozily sleeping at 2am when my roommate came home. When I heard her come in I thought about what a fun night we had bonding over drinks and dancing to 2Chainz, and that was when I heard the sure and not so subtle sounds of my roomie bonding with the bartender on our couch.

I mean how different are these nights? One ending in debate over Labradors and Retrievers and the other in debate over whether to do it on the counter next.

When you’re telling one party about the night you end up tweaking it just a tad. Telling my married friends on Saturday about going out with my roomie that wednesday, I mentioned nothing about shots, or DJing, or bartenders coming back to our place, but I did mention how I thought it was cool that the bar had Newcastle on tap.

Same deal when I came home from the barbeque. I can’t tell my wild stripper roommate that we sat around and talked about insurance policies, so I lead her to believe that we went through certainly more than two bottles of wine at this barbeque and that the conversations about car accidents were way more interesting.

I prefer to think of this not as lying but protecting others from truths they cant handle. You’re welcome?

incorrect expectations

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Real talk: I don’t know how to keep this blog up with my lack of life. Luckily I had a bridal shower and two parties to attend all in one day, so there actually is something to share! Miracle.

We will start with the parties. Both of them were goodbye parties for either friends or coworkers and at both of them I came to realize that hey I don’t know these people.

And when you don’t know people in a group very well, not only will your beer not save you from forced small talk but it also won’t save you from the hardcore clinging to the two people that you do know.

At party Numero Uno, I assumed it would be wildly fun, but my two people became occupied and things got awkward quick.

Tried asking a coworkers boyfriend about the bar that he runs and when that went south I appealed to the vanity of a woman and complimented the girls hair next to me, which did go somewhere, but it left me without words to use because she had taken all of them and left me with nodding. Hey bro, lets go back to those one word answers about your bar that I’ll never take a step inside of.

Party Numero Duce..(?)… (spanish class was a long time ago), this party had the potential to have a lot of drunken people and a lot of laughs and it did amuse me on both of those counts for quite awhile.

One of my two people at this one was hammered. I mean like singing out loud in the middle of a bar, occasionally lying down on the table, and every so often telling someone FUCK YOU, with no rationale. Brilliant drunk.

Unfortunately, early in the night I had gotten very hung up on my crush being there and his not making eye contact with me. He was glued to his phone or the tv most of the night, and somewhere in that behavior I decided he loathed me.

At one point I was smushed between two different couples and almost got up to stand next to him, despite the general dislike I assumed he had for me, just to have someone to stand there with, and we could both be glued to our phones, at least together? Instead I decided to stay planted in between the couples, trying to be as small as a Chinese gymnast, and text whoever was willing.

It was when it got so bad that people in the group sitting around me had pointedly started a conversation that clearly did not need my input, is when I begged a friend to call me so I could have a reason to go outside and take this ever so important call, and this is when I realized I had lost our drunk friend.

I found him outside minutes later, standing on a curb, and looking out into the parking lot. I wanted nothing more then to plop down on that same curb and stare at whatever he was staring at, and not have to make one any more unsuccessful efforts to converse with others.

The funniest thing about yesterday was that I had thought that those two parties would be the best part of the day and that the bridal shower that afternoon would be that part of the day I’d be praying for to be over as quickly as possible.

The bridal shower, being at a church, and also being a bridal shower, I didn’t have my hopes set high, but was in fact a wonderful three hours.

Sitting at a table with my mother, aunt, mother of that aunt, and a cousins girlfriend, our dry wit and overall immaturity gave each of us away to inappropriate fits of laughter from beginning to end. Also the maid of honor who is my cousin, was running the show and quite hilariously I may add. She obviously had the upcoming Bachlorette party on her brain because she never ceased to make jokes about how she’d be hammered later and to quiet us down would say “ladies, ladies, off the tables. were in a church.”

The games she planned were even fun and our table even got bizarrely competitive and began cheating early on. When we weren’t cracking jokes, the maid of honor was acting as our own stand up comedian and had the whole room going.

I shake my head even now at how odd or maybe even stupid it was for me to be so sure that I would have gobs of fun at these random parties with random people, but yet not be as entertained with the amazing women of my own family!!

The women of my family are intelligent and fun loving and deeply sarcastic, from aunts to cousins to grandmothers, and I don’t know how I ever came to doubt having a good time at this shower.

I guess at some point in your life you need to take a step back from the bars (hooold on what is she talking about) and the strangers (omg is she saying this) and look at who has been around your whole life, and who is ready to jump up and be your friend when you’re own are scarce.

Shit just got deep. Hope everyone enjoyed the Grammys!

Yup.

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When receiving text messages at midnight with “Happy new Years!” I felt tempted to respond in the way I felt at the moment, in which case my text message response would look like this: “Yup.”

Now of course you can’t do that. You cant actually write yup.

It breaks all new years etiquette. It’s worse then ignoring the text message. In ignoring a text, you can blame your drunkenness and how you were so plastered you didn’t even have the ability to read a text, let alone write one out in return.

I would have just written a sweet and simple “Yup.” but that would incur the curiosity of every friend, and would have gotten me back text messages asking about the worst of possible scenarios. “Are you not drunk?” “Did you see someone from high school?” “What’s wrong?” or the more amusing “wzHatt Wringgiircll,566?” which could have made it all worth it, but I digress.

I’m sorry but this is just not my holiday and I’m tired of trying to make it be.

I know I know, you’d think New Years Eve would be my time to shine. “Doesn’t that blogger chick go out all the time? Isn’t she like always drunk?”

Yeah yeah I know, Bachlorette parties and New Years Eve, those SHOULD be my nights of reign and glory. Unfortunately it is because expectations are set so high for these nights, is perhaps why they fail.

I went out of my way this year to make this year not like last year. Last year where I woke up in a strange apartment with a Scottish guy, having ditched my coupled off friends and gotten plastered by 9:15pm. I don’t remember anywhere near midnight.

The year before had been no less delightful because my friends again were coupled off and not doing anything exciting so I went out with coworkers I don’t normally go out with, and stayed decidedly sober in attempts to escape the awkwardness after the ball dropped.

In my hopes to remember new years this year and be with people I knew, I was perfectly okay with dinner plans and a house party, which of course were canceled.

Myself, my friend and her boyfriend, and our friend and his spur of the moment date, all wound up on a party bus with fifteen strangers.

Yup.

So much for an evening of familiarity.

I can see everyone’s shaking of their heads at me. Is she complaining about a party bus? Lets be clear,I’m stag on a bus of strangers, we are hitting clubs downtown that have lines that wrap around buildings that wrap around building that wrap around buildings.

Within twenty minutes being on the bus my friends spur of the moment date was already spilling her orange drink on me, and I couldn’t even rock a buzz yet.

Our first stop was at a club we would never get into even if we had all day and night to wait, so we went into a pizza place, and then somehow I’m following strangers to liquor stores to buy cheaper booze, to pour under tables.

Yup.

When it is finally midnight we drive to a field that is the perfect place to watch the downtown fireworks. Midnight is announced and my friend and his spur of the moment date – lets call her Kathy how about – , who were in conversation with me seconds before, go in for their kiss and as I, being a bit surprised by the abruptness, stood there for several seconds too long.

After stepping back a few feet I looked at the progression and literally I kid you not a line had formed. On the sidewalk near our bus, practically single file, three and more couples were making out in such uniformity it was almost awesome.

Then some guy opened a champagne bottle and sprayed it at me.

Getting back on the bus it was then the shit show. Dear old Kathy had made out with my friend as well as another guy at midnight, such a lucky gal.

Her most recent kissing partner basically dry humped her until death in the back of that party bus. In many attempts to save her, she went back to him, until I’m almost sure he got her pregnant back there.

Awww they could name their baby New Years. Or 2014!

When getting off the bus our dear friend Kathy revealed that her little black dress had basically split all the way up to her bra. Her whole backside revealed changed all of our plans. I hailed a cab.

Her date, our friend, conveniently decided to stay out dancing with everyone, while my friend and her boyfriend, and myself got her into a cab and let her wish us Happy New Year every 2 minutes or just when there was a pause in conversation.

One thing I will say about the cab ride and ride back in my car, was that she was so plastered and it annoyed me, and also that it was sad.

She said once to me “I just didn’t want to remember tonight” and I so felt for her in that moment. Boobs falling out, platinum blonde bleached hair a mess, and a ripped dress, drunk and repeating the same sentence over and over.

It’s like looking at yourself.
Minus the boobs and blonde hair.

We pulled over for her to use a gas station restroom, which I had to guide her to, and I distinctly remember saying out loud to myself “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

Which is hilarious because my whole goal for this New Years was that I wanted to drink less so I could actually remember getting to midnight!

I suppose I learned that there is nothing I can do to make this holiday better. If i get too drunk I miss out on the whole night. If I don’t drink enough then I have to actually put up with the whole night and remember how much I wanted the night to end as well as secretly fear that the girl we brought with us is going to get gang raped in the back of the bus and I didn’t do enough to stop it so I’ll go to jail and probably spend my remaining new Years hoping for new bed springs.

Even when I make deliberate efforts to spend the new years with people that I know, I still wind up helping strange drunk girls find the bathroom to puke.

Acceptance is everything. I accept that this holiday sucks, so next year I deem that Dec 31st shall be terrible once more, and in my low expectations I pray that the evening may rise to slightly tolerable.

Ahem excuse me

Oh, right. YYAAAYYYYYY!!! Whooopppppeee!!! 2014!!!

a year older and who would know

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I couldn’t seem to muster any fragment of intelligence in the romantic arena this past week. Logic, sensibility, or desire to do anything that isn’t ultimately destructive didn’t appear to be present.

Bailed on a date with a cute guy I met at a bar. We had hit it off that night and he asked for my number shortly after he took my hand and led us off the dance floor to talk. We texted back and forth for several days and set up a date for the next week. So what’s the fucking problem you ask? No idea, I reply.

Hours before the date, I just didn’t want to go on it anymore. I felt like I knew too much about him already, through our texting for almost a week. I guess that what I learned about him I didn’t like? I lost the attraction? The intrigue was gone? All of a sudden the date seemed like a waste of time because I already knew I didn’t want to continue anything with him.

But why did I suddenly care about whether it’s going to go anywhere or not….? I’m in a “have fun” phase currently so why would our future status matter. Why did I abruptly find this fun date so reproachful? I made up some excuse about another guy to get out of it and he actually seemed rather disappointed about it.

The following weekend my ex joins us for bar hopping. Him and I are okay friends and are both still part of a large circle of friends, that are mostly paired off now. I was pretty hammered even before we got to the bar and when my ex got there I pretty much went after him right off the bat.

Danced with him all night and probably didn’t even let anyone else near him. Girls approaching us I probably hissed at and threw ice cubes in their face. I was so lost in it that I missed key things happening in our group through out the night such as someone in our group getting kicked out of the bar. We probably all left the bar with the trouble maker friend and I’m sure my mind was on holding my ex’s hand as we exited instead of hey why are we exiting.

My ex left early and my group finished out the night with some typical drama, losing phones and cussing out bitches who have the phone and don’t want to give the phone back. Sigh, life.

Somewhere in route to Taco Bell I sent my ex a text saying what a good time I had with him and that it got my hopes up.

The next morning with coffee in hand I laughed about the text, brushed it off. Oh silly me.

Three hours later, this time holding a sandwich, and it hits me. Why would I text that? OH MY GOD.

He never responds to it. Probably because he thinks doing so will in fact get my hopes up MORE. Let me throw in the kicker, in a months time he and I will be the only single people at our friends wedding.

Do I just have no self control at all? My friend had even tried to discourage my ex from coming that night because she had a feeling I might do something….not so intelligent. It’s sad that my friends know that certain people cannot go out with us because I will not be able to behave normally.

Eleven thirty am today I was sitting on the curb outside my friends house contemplating parts of this past week while still in my clothes from the previous day and clutching a bottle of wine I had gotten as a birthday gift. I was waiting for a ride because I do not have a car and my friends who took me out for my birthday had taken me to their house for more drinking and I had ended up spending the night.

I’m sure I looked a hot mess sitting there barefoot and hungover. It’s either that or your basic definition of a homeless alcoholic. I was playing with the ripped holes in my jeans and thinking about how I’m 25 now and how hysterical that is. Does any of this sound like someone who is 25? Could anyone deem this person as being a responsible 25 year old? An adult even?

Thinking about these recent dating woes and my current unemployment just makes it look like I’m making all the wrong decisions right? Like I’m fucking up all over and it’s anyone’s guess what I’ll do next.

Here’s the funny part, I think I’m okay with it. For the most part I mean, not fully. I’m not saying I want to go around making bad decisions, but a part of me is not much looking forward to the day when I have to have it all together.

I mean I’m twenty five years old and my life kind of feels like a joke, but it’s a joke I like telling.