The Weekender


Alcohol Induced Sleep Deprivation sums it up…

After Friday night Dodgeball I headed out to a Midnight Pumpkin Carving Party at Brandon’s house,a former Melting Pot coworker-friend. As some of you may know I’m limiting alcohol consumption to minimal these day. I like to phrase it that way b/c when I say ‘I quit drinking’ ppl give me ‘the look’ and question me to eternity (usually followed by an attempt to talk me out of such an insane notion). It’s not that I’m an alcoholic by any stretch of the word, I just wanna control mindless drinking (a few drinks here and there) in an attempt to cut some mindless calories. So anyway, I’m @ the party and I did partake in the drinking festivites, but limited as mentioned above. I may have been the only one there attempting to NOT get schmammered. Success. So 4:30 AM!!! rolls around before I know it. @ the moment of realization of the insane late hour I have a moment of freak-out b/c I’m to be at work (and responsible for making people look good) in a few short hours. “Fuck!” pretty much sums it up. I haul ass home in an attempt to catch as many minutes of sleep possible.

Fast forward to 9:43AM, 2 minutes before I’m supposed to be at work. I’m still sleeping, actually I’m just waking up. “Fuck!” Again. Needless to say there was no shower, only a quick teeth-brushing, half assed attempt at some makeup application and a random fucking outfit selection. Speed to work…thankfully only 3.5 blocks from home. Enter Jamie (9:54, literally). So of course I’m booked SOLID from 10-5:30 and thoroughly ridiculously, slap-happy tired. End day. Whew.

Nap time? No. Party time…again. Dear God. Early Halloween costume party out in Shelbyville @ Clint’s, a good friend. Due to my lack of preparation I repeat a costume from 2 years ago, a Shania Twain attempt. Did you ever see the video for ‘That Don’t Impress Me Much’ (nevermind the blatant disregard @ a grammatically correct song choice) where she’s walking thru the desert dressed head-to-toe in a leopard print hooded robe, bra, tight pants & boots (my first choice for man-hunting in the 115 degree Arizona sun)? You probably don’t if you’re not a county music fan but nevertheless I was that.
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Kind of. Whatever.

So for some reason the party started at 8PM. Hello early drunk! It was in a shabby-chic, rustic old barn decked out with the seasonal theme, of course. Tons of free food (hollerrrr) and a keg or two. Beer=yuck so I don’t really care. BUT there was some cheap vodka (I’m not picky when it’s free) and sugar-free Lemondrop mix (b/c we’re all obviously concerned with our sugar intake when we’re getting plowed…whatever). Slow start to the party of course but as more ppl come and I press for a stereo (helllooo?) the mojo gets flowing. Can you say Flippy Cup? Yes, that old college game of chugging and cup tossing. I’m a damn good cup-flipper it turns out (hollerrr again). There’s a draw back to this as I’m drinking Vodka and everyone else is drinking beer (pansies). One minute I’m a cup flippin son of a gun and the next I’m giving the hostess, Clint’s mom, decorating advice and rummaging thru her bathroom in search of perfume cuz ‘I wanna smell pretty’.
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Yeah, IDK either. Turns out she’s allergic so there’s no fragrances in the house. Shit. Oh well, I guess I just won’t smell pretty.

I believe we’re trashed and in bed by, oh, 1 AM. Good work gang ( my friends were Michael Vick, Napolean Dynamite, Sean Paul, an odd hooker, a Snow Princess and a Flapper…what a mix!)
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I do believe I topped all this off with a good hurl and a nice hot shower immediately followed by a hard fall onto a much needed couch. All in all I’m not mad. So much for that alcohol regulation. I guess I gotta let loose every now and then. Next time just keep me away from the devil’s game, aka Flippy Cup.