A few weeks ago, Clint asked me if I'd babysit his bosses daughters for a few hours and earn some extra cash. I was all for it. I asked Clint how old his daughters were and he told me the oldest was three and the youngest was "baby". I'm really bad at judging the ages of tiny-tots so I honestly did not know that three-year-old's could speak (I know). I got over there and the baby was peacefully asleep. The three-year-old, Mary, surprisingly was able to converse. I chatted with their father for a short while. Soon after he left, the baby woke up. Crying. Hysterically. Mary suggested feeding the baby "Trix" but somehow my true instinct knew that was most likely a terrible idea. After Mary decided to go through my wallet and hide my license, debit card, medical insurance card, and most importantly my punch card to Rhino Coffee, I tried to calm the hysterical babe down. I rocked her. Nope. I changed her diaper (backwards, I think). Nope. Then I found some Cheetos and fed her those and she was golden. They were the Gerber Baby Food Cheetos, it was fine, and they tasted really good (don't judge me). The father of the little nuggets works out of his home so his employees drop by to pick things up quite often. During the peak of the baby crying, one of his workers walked in and saw me holding the baby (extremely uncomfortably) and Mary standing over the baby shaking a maraca in her face because the baby "liked" that. He asked me if Pops was home and the only response I could give him was, yelling, "WHAT?!?! WHAT!? HE ISN'T HOME!". When the dad came home for lunch, we were having a casual chat and he said "So, Clint tells me you babysit a lot!" I have never babysat anything in my life besides my little sister and brother who are four and eight years younger than me, and it happened maybe two or three times. I am in no shape or form the babysitting kind of person. I think babies are like alien versions of their parents except more awkward. They haven't called me for another whack at it. I guess if I refer to babysitting with "another whack at it", I shouldn't be babysitting in the first place. Oh well.
This past weekend was Christmas in the Sky. For those of you who don't know, it's an incredible gala that raises an extremely large amount of cash-flow. With the event being held on a Saturday, I told myself I would lay low the Friday before because I needed to save my energy. Well sometimes we go off the beaten path.
The next day was somewhat close to miserable, and the last thing I wanted to do was...basically move, but beauty is pain (literally, they strapped me down and tied chains to my limbs and stretched me until I was tall enough for my dress). I'm still getting over a case of Bronchitis and I went to get my nails "did" which resulted in me coughing in the woman's face the entire time that she was working on my cuticles. She put a mask on. I wouldn't blame her.
Later, Madeline and Ellie were getting their make-up done at Chanel and I figured I might as well go and get mine done too considering I wasn't planning on doing it at all. I got there and Madeline's make-up looked stunning, but Chanel was booked up and we had to go to another booth to search for a miracle maker. We showed up to Dior and I took a seat (in the headmaster's chair). Have you ever seen on a cartoon or sitcom when an overweight person sits on a chair and it slowly descends because of their weight? Well, picture this happening to me. Madeline went to go look around and I tried to figure out this chair that was purposefully being an asshole. Somehow, it had gotten jammed and when I thought I fixed it, I realized it had been caught under one of the display tables that has all of the make-up products on it. It was too late. All of the sudden there were bottles and containers all over the floor in the middle of Dillard's and everyone was staring at me. One woman said "they usually applaud." Thanks for making me feel so much better. After doing my make-up, the woman could not stop complimenting me on my lip color and how unique and beautiful it was. I couldn't keep lying to her and telling her it was natural...finally I admitted that I was extremely dehydrated from drinking the night before and that's the only reason my lips were like that...because I was about to pass out.
We arrived at Christmas in the Sky and it was as magical as we thought it would be. I was the only one walking around with a beer and a glass of wine in-hand but it was solely because I am extremely indecisive and couldn't choose between the two. Apparently, I have a bad habit of not being able to tell the difference between men and women because I kept calling all of the characters ladies when they were truly men just dressed up. Madeline and I were privileged to get on the stage at Club Mayan and I did the robot, signature move, I know. I tried to make friends with one of the bands, signature move again, I know. They lied and said they would hang out with us, we never saw them again (DISAPPOINTEDDDDD!). One guy was putting the moves on a friend and we realized that no one knew who this dude was. So, naturally, I poked him in the buttocks to see what would happen. He didn't acknowledge this. Our friend quickly got out of the situation. When we were leaving, Madeline went to check and see if she had won anything and we began talking to this elderly rich man who had just dropped $20K on some Beatles albums. Then, we were waiting on our cab to come when this woman started talking to us and told us she had just won an entire year of free Taco Bell. She didn't have a certificate that said "One Free Year of Taco Bell", she had about $6,000 worth of $20 gift cards. So, of course Madeline and I are trying to explain to her that we're struggling college students who favor Taco Hell and love it unconditionally. The lady didn't offer us anything. We were legitimately angry at this. It was the coolest thing I've ever been to in my entire life and probably will be the coolest thing until the day I die.
How are you doing today? I hope very well. This time change sure has confused me, you? No? Alright, well let's just jump straight into Halloween.
Pre-Halloween:
The Saturday before Halloween, we were all confused as to whether or not people would dress up for the weekend before or the weekend after the frightening holiday. A friend had been invited to a costume-only Halloween party and was able to invite a few of us to tag along. We jumped on the invite faster than people are putting their opinions about politics on Facebook. Yeah. That fast. The person throwing the party was from a little part of Shreveport named Blanchard. We thought twice about it but once we figured out where it was, we knew it was safe (having to think about the geographical location to determine if it's safe or not is never a good thing, keep that in mind). Mallory, Hannah, and I were the three girls that were riding with our crew. Our costumes were absolutely darling and tasteful:
Ring Leader, Cat Woman, and a Flapper
Told you. We arrived at the party just as it began to start jumpin' and realized that all of the other girls at this party were much more confident regarding their costume choices. In the words of Mean Girls:
I think all of the other female beings may have watched this and gone by it to the extreme. Lots of corsets, fishnets, high heels, and animal ears. After watching all of these girls strut their...stuff...I noticed two girls that walked in with "Thing 1" and "Thing 2" costumes. Granted, they had tutus, stockings, and heels on; I thought to myself "Hey, there's a normal costume with just a little touch of sassy." When they approached someone who was closer to us, I realized that their shirts did not read "Thing 1" and "Thing 2" but instead the classic (ha) "Bitch 1" and "Bitch 2"...I gave you both so much optimism.
Hannah's costume, the flapper, was clearly that. I don't know how you could be a vague flapper, but some people at this party were not the most intelligent. First, while playing the ever aggressive drinking game of beer pong, Hannah and I's opponent began shouting insults at us to distract us (obviously you were a weakling dude). "Hey feather duster, cool costume." "Oh, are you going to go sweep up some dirt Swiffer?" At first I was thinking how lame all of these insults were (he was wearing a classy costume of "Camel-Toe" might I add) and then I realized that he was entirely that moronic. I looked at him and said "Do you think she's a feather duster, honestly?" and he nervously said "Well...yeah, what else is she supposed to be?" Hmm. Idiot. Then, another girl (who was wearing basically a bra and some form of lingerie) came up to Hannah and asked "Oh! Are you like a Greek person?!" Hannah and I exchanged a glance of "Is this real life?" and I looked at the girl and said "She is a flapper...from the 1920's...a big part of history?" The girl thought Hannah was wearing a toga.
Later on, the girl who was wearing the bra and the form of lingerie came up to me and asked what I was dressed as. I told her I was a Ring Leader from the Circus and then she proclaimed "OH MY GOD! ME TOO! We have to take a picture!!" In all honesty, I thought she was a Vegas casino worker that sold cigarettes out of one those box things that you carry around.
That was my competition for the night.
At one point they began to play the latest tunes of rap music and all of the girls began a dance party (if you can imagine) around a table where we had left our belongings. It's awkward when you have to "shimmy" your way through the strip-tease to gather your things because you're afraid one of the "playmates" will steal them. It's also sad because they don't invite you to participate in the dance party when you're "shimmying" through. Whatever. I'm not bitter. They would have felt threatened if I'd participated anyways because I'm pretty sure we all know how well I can Krump.
As our cab was about to be there (to get us the hell out of this place), people began freaking out and yelling "THE COPS ARE HERE! THE COPS ARE HERE! OMG ARE THE COPS REALLY HERE?? THE COPS ARE HERE!" I casually went to the front of the house to see, and indeed, there they were. I went back to the clutter and calmly explained to them that they cops were indeed there. After everyone's panic cranked up five notches, I asked them what the big deal was since everyone was 21? Then they said that there were a few people who were under the age of 18. We rolled out quickly.
Actual Halloween:
I was working at Vertigo and since it's a clothing store that we dress nicely at, we all decided that we would wear our normal clothes and add some cat ears or something simple. I told my co-workers (well they're actually my friends, but at work we are STRICLY co-workers, very serious business) that I was planning on doing something much more extravagant. On my birthday this past June, my best friends all chipped in and bought be a deluxe "Easter Bunny" costume. It was the greatest gift I've ever received, besides life, but I actually cried when I got it. I planned to surprise the manager by hopping into the store that day but unfortunately she was on her lunch break when I got to work. One customer walked in, jumped back, and said "I just forgot where I was for a minute..." and then she proceeded to take my picture. We saw Jen (the manager) walking up so I ran up to the door to frighten her but instead it was a Jen-look-a-like (I do that way too often) and I ended up just really freaking her out. Finally, Jen arrived and we all shared quite a few laughs, truly humorous. Here are some lovely photos from work:
After a while, it got difficult to breathe, so I had to take it off and wear regular cat ears and a tail that made it seem like I had a tumor growing out of my lower back.
Halloween night, we hung out with some friends at their camp and then decided to take our costumes out on the town. I made Madeline's costume (the cutest thing in the world) and we strut our stuff to Strangebrew. Once we walked inside (while fully dressed in costume) we realized that no one else was celebrating as big as we were. So we had a beer and then proceeded elsewhere:
At Strangebrew, Madline was a Paper Doll
We went to Bear's where everyone was dressed up and they had a couple of really great local bands playing. It was the perfect place to end our night. After someone stole my mask and traded me for their low-quality "Jason" mask for fifteen minutes, I grew irritated and retrieved it. Then, I took my mask off for a breather and some guy came up to me and said "WHOA! You're a girl?! We thought a dude was in there! That's awesome!" I think that's a compliment? Anyways, we called our go-to cab guy, Wes, who drives a taxi-van that is decked out with strobe lights in the interior. Just imagine you're at a rave except inside of a taxi. We walked out the front door of Bear's and Wes already had the double-opening doors open for us to ascend into. When we got near the doors we realized that he was blasting Queen "We Will Rock You". It was like a dream-sequence in a movie; us walking in slow-motion to the beginning of the beat (bum bum tsh bum bum tsh) and feeling like total celebrities (not sure of any celebs who do that but you get the point).
Here's a taste of that:
And then he played Black Eyed Peas "Boom Boom Pow":
Needless to say, it was an eventful and wonderful Halloween. Have a good week y'all!
Update on Vertigo:
For some reason, it seems that every time an angry customer comes in, or some bizarre encounter happens, I'm working that day. Sally and I were working on a rather slow Saturday and the store had one customer inside. As she was leaving, we first thought "Yay. A breather." As she was exiting, it appeared that she was meeting her extremely thug-ish man candy outside to venture off to another store. When she passed him at the door, making it clear that they were absolutely not together, we both had minor panic attacks. Dressed in pants below his rear, a wife beater, cracked out facial expressions, and coated with body odor, we put our context clues together and realized this man was not in the right place. He walked in with his hands behind his back and his Afro far from being polished. Immediately, I came to the conclusion, we are about to get robbed.
Thug-Life
When he first walked in, someone had called the store and Sal answered it. I could tell it was someone calling about the (scariest human being I've ever seen) man because Sally wasn't answering any typical questions and she was being very vague over the phone. Sally went up to him and asked "Do you need help find anything?" because she didn't want him to think A) he was incognito or B) that she was terrified of him (which we both were). He said he was just browsing and he walked past the counter and I made sure to check his hands because he was holding them as if concealing a gun. It was a tape recorder (later we found out it's a place where people store crack, seriously). He walked to the back of the store and looked at some magazines and then rolled out. The person on the phone was an employee from another store inside the shopping center warning Sally that he has been banned from it and making sure Sally wasn't alone. We called the new security guard, Terry (who is like a mini-bounty hunter), and he chased him across Youree Drive. Points for you Terry! At the end of this lovely encounter, we were both shaking and freaking out, but no worries, we're totally safe...for now (dum dum dum).
Another day I was working and this woman came in to return a pair of shoes. The return policy is that you have seven days to return shoes for store credit only. Simple, right? Not at all (apparently). I explained to her our return policy and pointed out where she initialed her receipt under the return policy and she would not accept that. I was being extremely kind because well, I didn't want to piss her off anymore. She told me she would never shop there again and began cursing me under her breath. After she left, there was a family consisting of a mother and her two daughters sitting in the back and they told me that I handled the situation as best as possible. The angry woman came back and demanded our "corporate" number. I told her we didn't necessarily have a corporate number but that she could have the owners phone number (the other two stores were closed because it was a holiday) and that she could call the next day when they were open. The manager at the time came out and gave her the number and told her that she could tell the owner she spoke to the manager as well. After raising hell for the second time, she left again. Third times a charm though! The store had about seven people in it and this woman opened the door and began shouting "DO NOT BUY ANYTHING FROM HERE. THEY WILL NOT COMPLY TO ANY KIND OF RETURNS. I'M GOING PUBLIC WITH THIS!!!!" Literally shouting, hence the caps lock being turned on. I was terrified. I also wasn't rude in anyway because I'm not an idiot and I wouldn't speak to a person/customer in any condescending way. What does going public mean? Is this a new Watergate Scandal? Tough love y'all. Tough love.
Update on LSUS:
New year, new school. I've had quite the eventful first-half-of-the-semester as a soaring Pilot (Go Pete!). My first English class went well, and then I realized that everyone participating was much more intelligent than I. Using intense words for such simple statements, like "I'm exasperated," just say you're tired dude. I went to my Philosophy class and sat in possibly the only broken seat in the classroom of 200 desks. Literally, it was being held together by two screws. Imagine me riding a mechanical bull except it was a small desk in the middle of 150 other students. On to my other English class, I've come to the realization that it's quite difficult to concentrate when three ass cracks are in my vision like "Hey, whats up?" I accidentally stole someones seat on the first day of Fine Arts. These two girls had an empty seat next to them so I figured, "hey, they look compatible, let's become friends." Another girl walked into class five minutes late and made contact with them and one of the girls said "We tried to save you a seat...but...(head nod towards me)" and the girl found another desk. If they wanted to save her a seat, they should have put some type of object on there to reserve it. I mean, granted, I moved one of their backpacks to the ground but how was I supposed to know? Just kidding. There really was nothing on it. Also in Fine Arts, I obnoxiously leaned backwards to stretch out my back (fine arts is SO exhausting!) and saw one of my friends, Trey. We made eye contact and I waved and then he looked repulsed and turned back to face the front of the room. Why is he being such a jerk? Why is he wearing an LSUS baseball hat and sitting with five other baseball players? Oh. Not Trey. Whoops. After I explained my awkward moment to Actual-Trey, I naturally began to take pictures of his twin so that I can have proof of his existence. None are turning out quite the way I plan, and he's beginning to catch on I think. This guy in my first English class has braces and I think he may go to the orthodontist every time we have class that day because he is constantly tapping/touching/rubbing/ them. It's just odd.
A friend that I made in Philosophy is a participant on the Debate team (National Champs, YEE-UH!) and mentioned that I should check it out. I thought this was a brilliant opportunity because I've never done anything of the sort and thought it would be really fun to meet some new people. Not a good idea at all. I've never participated/seen a debate so that was fault number one. Then I realized, I am the least bit argumentative or confrontational, and I am terrified to speak in public. Fault number two. I went to a couple of the practices though so I was legitimately on the team, but then I noticed how I would have panic attacks and start sweating nervously before them and realized I was driving myself into a state of anxiety. Everyone was really cool though, I think I just wanted to hangout and become friends with all of them without having to actually do anything. Kind of like the girl on Mean Girls who says "I wish we could all get along like we used to in middle school... I wish I could bake a cake filled with rainbows and smiles and everyone would eat and be happy.." Yeah. Just like her. Another friend of mine, "Liz", decided to choose me as her subject for a class project. Her assignment was to go up to a stranger on campus and ask them "What is the most interesting thing about you?" Since she wasn't going to go up to a stranger and ask them that, she asked me and I told her "My parents house is haunted." This resulted in the LSUS newspaper writing an article about me. The way I did the interview made all of the stories sound humorous and just plain weird and then the article comes out and it makes me sound like a scared little baby. Which I am. But I wasn't going to let the student body see my weaknesses
Greetings all, I'm writing this from an iPad and it is extremely odd.
Last Wednesday, two friends and I decided to go to Strangebrew for "Dollar Drinks". Mallory and I go pretty much every Wednesday and it is always poppin' with cool people and it's usually a good time...except last night was a total dud. Cody, Mallory, and I all arrived and it was incredibly empty and therefore it was freezing and miserable. We stayed for about 10 minutes and decided to go back to where we were familiar.
Mallory and I live incredibly (some may say pathetically) close to the Cub, so we parked the car there and all three walked over. The parking lot seemed so promising yet when we walked in...it was another dud. We grabbed a drink and decided to kick it on the patio. Much worse of an idea. A man (who apparently was in a band during his glory days) brought his guitar (and decided to make all of our ears bleed) and began singing Whitesnake's "Here I Go Again". Naturally, the three of us challenged him and his "posse" by singing much louder. After Whitesnake's protege finished his lovely show, we decided to head somewhere different where we new people would be at. The poor cab driver.
We drove by Centenary thinking there would be a house party (I know, right?), shockingly (...) there wasn't. At this point we've decided on Stray Cat because we were all very hungry but I brilliantly came up with the idea of going to Noble Savage. The kind man dropped us off and we parted ways. Noble Savage is full of very laid-back folks, mostly hipsters decked out in plaid (and I am SO okay with that). I'd only heard of one of their draft beers (Guinness) but I ended up getting an ESB which was quite delicious. We sat down at a little table where we could see into the pool room and were mindlessly chatting about the economy and other things to help us fit into the hipster crowd when I looked over and calmly said "Uh...I think that's Gerard Butler playing darts..." and it was. Mallory and I slowly began freaking out but not to where they would notice it. I tried my best to play it cool and then Cody pointed out that Dylan McDermott was part of the famous crew. That's when I began to start hitting the table, my eyes watered, and I was quietly screaming. I love(d) him.
We went into the pool room so we could have a much better chance of meeting these people. I swear I'm not exaggerating when I say that Gerard and I continuously made seductive eye contact, he may have thought I was a psychopath but he at least noticed me and for that I am proud. Mallory was flipping out because she wanted a picture so badly and I was trying to play it cool and act like this was no big deal (on the inside I was completely on her side) because I was sure they'd become our best friends. Cody finally told us we were being babies and he walked over to them and casually said "Hey Dylan. Hey Gerard. Can they take a picture with y'all really quick?" And then came our "Sorry, we know y'all get this all the time" rants, when Dylan (I feel so close to celebrities when I refer to them by their first names) spit out "Yeah...but make it quick." Taken aback by the comment slightly I was trying to figure out how one actually goes about taking a picture "quickly". Do you run, freeze, snap, and then you're done? Naturally that's what I was thinking. So, after we said thank you and walked away, Cody begins with "Ooh...y'all are going to be kind of pissed at me..." This is why:
You can not tell that we even took a picture with them. First off, Cody happened to adjust the lighting perfectly to where Gerard's head is blinded. Secondly, it's incredibly blurry. Thirdly, Dylan's (really cool...) deuce that he's throwing makes it look like Mallory has a massive man hand and is unfortunately chunking this gesture.
We all sat back down at our original table and I was so unsatisfied with that picture that I convinced myself it was okay to offer to buy them a beer. Stupid. I walked up to the both of them as they were standing looking at Gerard's iPhone and politely (and awkwardly considering I'm a girl...whatever) asked "Hey, can I buy y'all a beer? Or a drink?" Then Dylan McDermott put his hand on my shoulder and said "Save your money..." like I'm some sort of peasant. It was so degrading. My jaw dropped (I know, so dramatic but I wanted to show them I could be an actress for sure). Gerard looked at me and asked if I knew what song was playing in the bar and I said "I don't believe I do" and then he shushed me...so rude Gerard, so rude.
Douche.
After I got over the fact that two celebrities were really rude to me, Gerard started HARDCORE making out with his Brazilian model girlfriend (ugh) right in front of us. It was quite odd. She was straddling him and just going after it. So, we did what every normal person would have done and began taking pictures and yelling "I'M SENDING THIS TO PEOPLE!" "TMZ! TMZ! TMZ!"
We are so mature.
After that we walked over to Stray Cat and devoured a pizza and chatting about what the hell had just happened.
Wow. It's been almost seven months, maybe even longer, I'm too lazy to go back and check to correct myself. Sorry. I MISSED Y'ALL! There's so many things I would love to catch all of you up on (like how delicious the Berry Almond Chicken Salad from Wendy's is), but that may take me quite some time and I'm just such a busy lad (lassie?), again, sorry.
To kick us all back into high gear, I figure I'll write about my recent mini-vacation to Dallas (D-Town). Let's take a magical journey back into that weekend:
One of my dear friends had been in Dallas for a week getting certified to be a personal trainer and my cousin asked me if I wanted to go spend a weekend there to visit our physically-fit pal to celebrate her hard work. I was full of glee to say the least. I just recently turned twenty-one a month ago from today and had never experienced Dallas besides with my parents at Six Flags (which is equally as fun just in a different way, duh.). My cousin and I arrived at the beautiful Fairmont Hotel in the Arts District of Dallas and we all got ready and decided to stop and have a drink at the chic hotel bar and then go out to dinner and then so-on. Well...we ended up having multiple drinks in the hotel lobby. Let me start of by saying that I go to the Cub every weekend where it is completely laid back and "everybody knows your name (bum bum bum...!)". At the hotel bar (the Pyramid), they had a variety of martinis and cosmos so I figured I might as well try one out (YOLO...just kidding.) and so I ordered an Apple-tini. I am a beer drinker. I do not like the taste of hard liquor. This drink tasted like hairspray with a sour apple Warhead dissolved in it (doesn't that sound delicious?!). After my attempt at being sophisticated, I switched to Blue Moon and continued drinking that for the remainder of our time there. One of the girls we were with decided to drink multiple Dirty Martinis and got slammed (which was extremely entertaining). Two stranger-danger dudes decided to sit down with us (one was wasted and super rude, the other had hoop earrings...really solid guys) and force conversation upon all of us. They actually turned out being nice but not until the next day (will tell later). The one guy who was extremely intoxicated spilled my beer, twice I think, and ate our quesadillas and sandwiches, I was livid. You can insult me all you want, I'll most likely return the favor, but touch my food when I'm starving and without permission...you're dead. We got into a verbal argument about how obnoxious he was. Pretty sure I won.
After we got that ordeal out of the way, the three of us called a cab and decided to head to the bar. An Indian man picked us up in a pretty fancy minivan.
He asked us where we were headed and we told him McKinney (main street with lots of bars a couple of blocks away from our hotel), he told us it was going to be fifty-five dollars...what the heck? We all began shouting "Not McKinney, Texas! McKinney Avenue!" and different variations of that and he started yelling back at us in his Indian accent "BE QUIET!! BE QUIET!" We shut up. On McKinney, the streets were full of cabs and before I know it the cabbie has rolled my window down (you know it's a fancy minivan when the windows roll down) and there's another cab full of cute guys next to me and I'm sitting there wondering "Why is this man doing this to me?" I heard one of the girls laughing uncontrollably in the back seat and I asked her what was so hilarious. "You didn't hear that?!" she said pointing at the other girl we were with who was sitting next to me in the captains seat. I looked over at her and she seemed to be mindlessly texting someone when all of the sudden she lifted her leg up and let out one of the loudest farts I've ever heard. Immediately following the bodily function, the pissed off cabbie rolled down every window in there and to make matters worse, she didn't even acknowledge the fact that it happened, just kept texting away. He pulled over on the side of the street and in his Indian accent screamed at us "GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!"
At the bar, it was a pretty regular time. I convinced a group of Afghanistan men I was Australian which ended up getting us free beer the whole time. These two guys (who looked like the biggest tools I've ever seen) showed up wearing really expensive suits but had their dress shirts unbuttoned literally almost down to their navels, so I casually went up and tried to chat with them. "Oh my gosh! One Direction! Where's the rest of y'all at? I knew y'all had a concert here but I didn't think y'all would come out!" They did not like my joke, and I'm pretty sure they said things totally degrading towards me but we all found it hilarious and that's all that matters.
The next day we woke up and went to the pool and ordered some delicious Bloody Mary's. We're all sitting there chatting about the previous night when the two doinkers from the Pyramid Bar show up and one of the girls said "Oh, shit." under her breath (aka loud enough for them to hear) and for some odd reason they took that as an invitation to hang out with us...for the next four hours. After they left we decided to lay out on the fancy pool chairs and me being the lazy-log that I am (that was a really stupid phrase but I can't think of anything else that isn't a "sack of...") tried to let down my chair with one hand and it crushed my thumb and threw us all into a panic thinking I broke my thumb:
Fortunately, I just jammed the f out of it. That night we went to another bar that was pretty cool, it had three stories and every floor played different kinds of music. Our cab guy (another Indian man, except this time much nicer) picked us up and for some reason on the way home we decided to start a sing-a-long of "Venus"..."I'm your Venus! I'm your fire, your desire!" clapping to the beat and screaming this song and our awesome cab driver began doing it with us ( I just started crying laughing while thinking about that) all the way to the hotel and until we got out of the car. Pretty sure some of the hotel valet guys started joining in as well.
A very large white man by the name of Randy (the hotel security manager) greeted us with delight. We became instant friends. I went over to the main desk to buy some gum and Randy followed me over there while the other two girls sat quite far away. One of them yelled at me "Syd, stop talking to Randy and leave him alone!" I had already forgotten who this Randy fellow was so right in front of him I yelled back "Who the hell is Randy?!" He wasn't pleased. Probably because before I had forgotten who he was I (jokingly) threatened to sue the Fairmont Hotel for breaking my thumb on the pool chair, he freaked out. Like really freaked out. I told him I was kidding but he still made me file an incident report. After doing that I tried to convince him to let me be on a brochure for the hotel giving the viewers a "thumbs-up" with my broken finger but he wasn't going to go for that one either.
Sorry for the lengthy post y'all! I've been missing out on chatting with y'all so I had to get all of it out! Y'all have a swell evening. I promise I won't let y'all down and wait this long again. I'll leave you all with an overweight man trying to sit in an inner-tube while wearing a bikini at our hotel:
If you haven't heard me karaoke, then you're missing out on a delightful treat. Fumblebrewski Sports Bar and Grill has karaoke night every Thursday from 6-10. So...that's where I am every Thursday evening. Lately, Thursdays have really had me thinking "Why do the worst singers flock to karaoke night to humiliate themselves?" Obviously I'm not talking about myself because I do the best Cher "If I Could Turn Back Time" impersonation. If I had a video I'd post it but unfortunately I do not. Some of you may have your doubts on my ability to sound like the Gypsy, Tramps, and Thieves mastermind (she sounds like a man so I'm not sure why you have your doubts) but one thing is for sure and that's that I do a better job than Jack:
That is one of my favorite clips from any television show I've ever seen. Shout out to Remy Cross on that note. Besides all of the talented karaoke singers (which are incredibly rare), there are three other categories to divide the attention-getters and showgoers: Terrible-Yet-Think-You-Are-Celine, Terrible-And-You-Know-It, and children.
I'm just going to provide videos for these because words can not explain the emotion behind the sounds of these people.
Terrible Yet Think You Are Celine:
I videoed this and it is %100 real and %100 serious. His name is "Journey".
Terrible and You Know It:
I'm pretty this song is difficult to sing for anyone.
Children:
Precious in every way. This was post-Christmas which makes it even more precious.
I just completed my first homework assignment of the semester....yay. Also, I just bought the coolest nail polish. It's Sephora by OPI Matte, and it makes your fingernails looks so cool. Here's a pic:
I highly suggest it in navy, actually don't do navy. Be original...or something. BYE.
I just started my new job at Vertigo Boutique and was without a job for a little while so I'd keep having to ask my parents for money. This past Sunday I made plans to head to the National Championship. Being the responsible young adult that I am, I gathered $10.32 in change (technically $9.52, thanks Coin Star) and sold a couple of clothes at Plato's Closet (I know.) because I felt bad asking for yet another loan from the rents. For all you non-mathematics, I only scrounged up about $18. I had to ask for money anyways, but it's the thought that counts.
For Christmas, Grayson bought the four of us (Hannah, Mallory, Haley, and I) Modern Family Season 2. I was giddier than a child hearing the ice cream truck. On top of receiving that wonderful gift, I figured out that my car can play DVDs. Needless to say, Modern Family makes the three and a half hour drive to Baton Rouge fly by with ease (the McDonald's that I consumed three separate times that day helped too...p90x my arse.).
I stayed in Baton Rouge Sunday night at Helen and Meredith's apartment along with M'lynn where we watched Harry Potter and I turned myself into Hagrid.
The next morning we were up and about. By 12:30 we'd been drinking pretty heavily and once we got to the Bourbon Cowboy it was bad news from that point on. Almost every bar on Bourbon was filled with Bama fans. At the BC (see what I did there?), for some idiotic reason they started playing "Sweet Home Alabama" (if you haven't vommed a little bit yet, you're soon going to.) and after the first verse "Sweet home Alabama....(pause) ROLL TIDE ROLL!" As if they weren't obnoxious enough. So I stole the microphone from some dude who was "in charge" (if you work on Bourbon Street and are "in charge" you don't let that song play...duh.) and began screaming "GEAUX TIGERS" and maybe a few other words that seemed offensive at the time.
We headed upstairs because it wasn't as crowded (and it was 3-for-1 shots) and that's when we met Joe ( at least that's what Helen thinks his name was). He complimented my sequin skirt (which was actually a dress) and touched it. It was disturbing. After the BC (abbrevs), we met up with some friends outside on Bourbon where I bought a purple and gold feather boa and a t-shirt that at the time I didn't understand I just wanted it because it was being paraded around on a seven foot pole and caught my attention:
Yeah I just took this on my IPHONE 4S. I had a go phone for six months so I have every right to brag.
Before we headed out to Lucy's and The Attic, we ran into Joe one last time and I convinced him to take a picture with me:
I think I was seriously hurting this poor old man. But he was going for Bama, so who cares?
I thought I was the sneakiest Tiger fan of the day and in doing so I racked in about 300 high fives. I would go up to LSU fans and say Geaux Tigers to multiple groups of people and they'd return my friendly hand gesture. Then I'd go up to Bama fans and say "ROLL!..." and in during the pause I'd high five them then shout "TIGERS!!!!!!!" and then laugh in their faces and call them imbeciles. Idiots...them Alabama folks be.
At The Attic they projected the game on the wall so that was cool. On the road down to Nola, Helen had dared me to kiss a Bama fan and I said no. Then I met a Bama fan who asked Helen if my goal was to kiss a Bama fan and being the friend that she is told him "Actually, I dared her to on the way here." He made a bet with me "If Alabama gets a first down...." or "If Alabama scores here...."; having faith in the Tigers (which I shouldn't have) I accepted, and yeah.
On the way out the door, I fell down the stairs and people had to help me up. Quinn had to navigate drunken me through New Orleans to get to the car which was in drive, and she did it successfully. Go Quinn! Also I think I asked some random men (always a good idea!) and they didn't mug/molest me so it was successful all around!
The next morning, I woke up writhing in pain. I couldn't turn my head to the right or my body would cramp up and then go loose. It was the biggest biatch. So, after sitting on Helen and Quinn's couch for three hours with a heating pad (looking more pitiful than ever) I decided to go home. I literally had to sit sideways in my car just so I could see the road. FUN.
I still couldn't turn my head the next day and at lunch I actually shouted in pain, so I decided to go to the Quick Care thing:
I got to do some pretty gnarly x-rays and they showed my lungs holding in air. It was really cool. But then they gave me a shot in the ass. Not that cool. But then they gave me medication. Cool. That didn't work. Not that cool. I still can't really turn my head any, but my neck doesn't have too bad of spasms anymore which is pretty tight. Get it? Pretty tight, because my muscles are so tight I can't move my neck? Comedy hour is on Friday at 6, see y'all there!
This past weekend I went to my first wedding to actually drink at:
The wedding was right outside of Baton Rouge, so before we left, my dad (being the good dad that he is) made my date and I come to KTBS so they could properly meet before sending his daughter away with a potential psychopathic murderer. I wish I would've had a video camera to film this because it was humiliating in every single way possible. A) I was already nervous because I didn't know what my dad was going to say to him. B) We get to KTBS before my dad and I'm being silent because I'm horrified. C) Papa Tim arrives and scares the living day lights out of me (probably him too). Never have I ever (broken a bone...) heard him talk like this before...here are bits and pieces "This is my only daughter, the light of my life, you will not let her get hurt..." "Her last one was a piece of..." "I could have killed..." "How long have you known her?" "What are the sleeping arrangements?" Basically everything you do not want your father to say to a guy you're going to a wedding with...he said it all. But he meant it for good purposes, I would be THTH (too hard to handle hehe) if I didn't have a dad check up on me like that. Thanks Pops.
After the car ride to Baton Rouge that consisted of me making horrible awkward noises despite the previous conversation with my father, we got ready to go eat. Note: All of the people we hung out with were 24+; I am 20...and with poor fake i.d.'s. Seriously...ones from Boneville, Indiana and has shiny keys all over it. Thanks Copy Cats. Right when we got to Baton Rouge, I got a new fake i.d. that came with a debit card that wasn't working anymore, so it would be legitimate. We went and ate at Superior and I got legit drunk off of one margarita. It was pathetic, I'm usually a tank. Seriously. No, really. After Superior, we had to pick up something for someone at the gas station (sounds sketchy), since I was already tipsy I figured it would be a "great idea" for me to go in. So as I'm holding up the line at Circle K, my card would not work. My bad. It was the broken debit card the whole time. Some random guy offered to pay for my stuff but I didn't accept, I bought him a Tootsie Pop, he was gracious.
At every bar we went to, it was a more mature crowd than the regs at Bogie's. So basically I didn't fit in at all. I got carded every time and they didn't believe it was me but then I'd whip out the broken debit card and all doubt was lost. At The Cove (they have over 100 hundred great beers, Leffe Blond beer is delicious), no one thought it would be a good idea to tell me that Adam Devine from Workaholics was there:
I know. I was upset. So I did the most logical thing and stalked his "agents" which I'm pretty sure were not his "agents" and they were just his posse. But I creeped on them for a while and after they name dropped like crazy, I left them alone in anger.
The next day is the wedding. Bum bum bum. After getting ready (we both looked quite dapper I must say), we met up with two of Date's friends and caravan-ed to the middle of nowhere aka Gonzales. The wedding was outside of Oak Alley Plantation:
Extremely beautiful wedding, seriously.
In the beginning of December at SEVEN P.M. Needless to say...it was frigid. We four sat together and the entire time made funny (borderline bautchy...OK bautchy) comments about the bride because apparently no one liked her. After the bridal party was at the alter...everyone was waiting on the bride, so long that people stopped looking behind their shoulders. Finally, I turned to the left and I see this:
Not the exact girl.
Except it was at night time, she was riding inside of it, it was lit up with Christmas lights, and instead of just riding up to the altar, she rode it around the entire wedding crowd. The horse was all white. Come on. Really? At first I thought how incredibly obnoxious and over the top it was, but now I'm starting to ponder the idea for my own wedding one day.....wait...ha ha no, I'm not.
After the ceremony, two people were right there holding the most delicious foods I've ever tasted: bacon wrapped shrimp and hush puppies filled with crawfish etoufee. If your mouth isn't watering then you have no taste buds or an imagination.
The band started playing and I started drinking doubles..."She's a Brick House" came on......
And the dude singing invited me and a few other girls (including the bride) on stage (my second home for those who don't know me) and fortunately I got in the front right by the mic. He ended up thinking it was my birthday when really all I told him was "I want you for my birthday!" Eh...seems a bit provocative now. He turned around to dance with the bride and I began to provocatively dance behind him...some people thought it was funny, others probably disturbing. I do what I want.
I think i ruined every picture the bride and groom danced in by being in the background. Then I took a picture with the bride who I have never talked to nor seen in my entire life. She told me "It was so good to see you!" Yeah right, go get on your horse and carriage and ride away into the darkness of marriage.
After the wedding and the bar, we made a pit stop before the cab dropped us off at my apartment (that I don't live in but still pay rent...speaking of I'M LOOKING FOR A ROOMMATE) at McDonald's. We thought we were super hungry so we ordered 40 chicken nuggets, a large fry, and 8 barbecue sauces. We ate probably 12 of them in total.
To end this magical weekend, Date kept complimenting the pants that I was wearing, and I don't take compliments well but I sucked it up and said thank you (I know, SUCH a difficult thing to do) and when I got home I realized I had a HUGE hole, right in the dead center of them. Never saying thank you for a compliment again because it will bite you in the arse...literally.
.JPG)
