Drunkeness. Bad bar. Four (FOUR!!!) bottles of Boone’s Farm at once. Or maybe five. I don’t remember.
Wait’ melon, red, peach, another red’. Yes’ four.
Girls love me. They really do. I don’t know what it is. Some girls gave me pictures of their boobs. Another girl told me I had nice boobs. Another girl raved about my hair and then touched my boob. They all want to either be my best friend or possibly have my boobs.
Funny thing: one girl with very nice boobs, but apparently to her, not enough boobs, put a sticker picture thing of her flashing her boobs on my boobs. Did that make sense? She said ‘Now you have a picture of my boobs on your boobs.’ And laughed. So then I offered that maybe it was like lighting a candle at church. Sort of a sacrifice to the holy alter of boobies.
Two different bartenders kissed me. And one? The hot one (although, honestly, they were both way hot) did that thing where he cupped my face with both hands and also might have licked my lips a little bit.
Did I mention that I was looking fucking hot? I did the business shirt thing with jeans but the shirt was unbuttoned one too many buttons (about even with my bra, showing ample cleave) and then glittered the shit out of them with Urban Decay’s cinnamony Redd Hott powder stuff that I purchased at Sephora.
It makes my cleave glitter but also both smell and taste like candy. How awesome is that? It tastes like cinamony sin. Which is how the dirty pillows should taste. Whoa’ had a Carrie flashback there for a moment.
Oh, and I think Eric and I are engaged. Because at one point, he declared that he was my bitch and then there was this whole End Of Breakfast Club thing where I was Molly Ringwald and he was Judd Nelson and he put one of my diamond earrings in his ear.
You know what’s not a good idea? Only eating one seven layer burrito all day and then going out to a place that you don’t ever really have to pay for anything anyway, but also having it be near your birthday and then people are like ‘What? It’s your birthday? Let me buy you a shot and also give you a kiss and try to slip you some tongue.’ Yeah. Eat something more than a seven layer burrito on those days. Because a seven layer burrito? It’s only like $1.50 worth of food. As Eric explained, you should eat at least $10 worth of food on drinking days. Someone should have maybe reminded me of that before I went out.
Funniest thing: Carissa and I kept reminding each other of how completely white we were, with both of us doing the gangsta chica head swivel with the finger up in the air and saying ‘Oh no he di’int!’ And then we turned it Wisconsin Gangsta Chica by saying ‘Ooooaaah, nooooah he di’int, in so?’ with the heavy Belgian accent. And then almost peeing our pants because we are so very funny. But apparently only to ourselves. The hilarity. Oh, the hilarity. At one point, I think I might have made Carissa pee. Just a little.
I wish I would have brought my camera. You would have seen boobies. I’m just saying. Also, I think I spent exactly $3. That’s probably because the bald bartender wasn’t working. But then, he probably would have tried to give me a birthday schtupp.
Scotty Boom Boom put a Bad Bar sticker in between my breasts. Joel was talking smack to Scotty, but neither of them would tell me what he said. I think I made them jealous of Esteban at one point when I gave my theories on oral gratification.
See how easy it is to write a Weetabix entry? Seriously. Go write my entry. Hit the Back button to find out what the hell I’m talking about. I’m probably going to delete this tomorrow. Oh, tomorrow! Carissa, Penny and I are going to Milwaukee and see the midnight showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show. And we’re going to drive home apparently at 5 am in the morning.
It’s so wrong of me that I’m seriously considering driving to Cincinati to see Dave Matthews Band courtesy of one of my readers. Blatantly ignoring my vacation accrual or any kind of adult responsibilities that I may have. But Dave. Oh Dave. Pain. You have no idea.
I should go to bed.
