Can I first just say that I freaking adore Vegas: bottle-service, free champagne, open bars, stretch Escalade Limousines, hot NYC Firefighters (um AND cops), New York and New Jersey accents (“Ya he’s my cuz! Fuggedaboudit!”), delicious food, Vodka and the beach at Mandalay Bay?
Our view of the “beach”;
so-called because they trucked in 14 acres of sand
Beach + Hot Lifeguards + Beer + Sunshine
= Alice in Heaven
No big deal
I have lots of stories to tell and about a mess-zillion (see what I did there?) pictures were taken but for now I’m heading to my own bed for the first time since surviving a week in Vegas
Ignore the post from yesterday that doesn’t exist. If you have Google Reader you know what I’m talking about, otherwise, don’t worry about it. That post was meant for next week but I’m an idiot and can’t figure out things like “scheduling posts” and “the innernets”.
Moving on: before I get into Job Fair week I thought I’d tell a story for Ben’s Worst Hangover Ever contest.
See, I like to indulge every once in a while in an alcoholic beverage or two. There are times when I don’t remember or pretend not to so as to avoid embarrasment and/or potential lawsuits.
One of the worst drinking nights I had was when I actually woke up in a different city then I started in – and didn’t quite remember how I got there.
It was a gorgeous fall day last September and I had accepted a ride out to Saskatchewan with a friend’s friend to attend a golf tournament in honor of another friend’s friend’s dad who I’d never met (following me still?).
I’m random like that.
This guy comes to pick me up and luckily he was actually really nice and easy to get along with. Good thing because we had an eight hour drive ahead of us with nothing but flat prairies to stare at. I think I was clever enough to talk about aliens abducting us in wheat fields or something for an hour.
Upon arriving in Regina, I put on my golf attire (and I do wish you could see my argyle socks and pink/purple and white runners):
We headed for the course, free drinks in tow (and in golf bags). The golf game was ridiculous – My friend had his pants off at one point because apparently the rule is that if you don’t hit past the ladies tee you go pantless for the rest of that hole.
Keep in mind, this is about 3 pm.
Needless to say, by the time dinner rolled around and we were awarded “Best Dressed”, I was pretty far gone.
Apparently we decided karaoke with some of my friends out there was a great idea. I had never sang karaoke before so I completely butchered “Like A Virgin” (note to self: Alice + Madonna = tragedy) before letting everyone know what I really thought of them.
Good thing I’m a happy “Ilurveyouman…reallyidoyaknow” drunk and not an angry drunk.
At this point my memory is a little hazy. I vaguely remember calling my friends van the Party Machine and telling everyone we were all going to a “Secret Party”. Yeah, that’s what the kidnappers all say.
Next thing I know I wake up, on a strange couch, feeling like a cat just shat in my mouth and a steamroller just drove over my forehead. I grabbed a piece of mail off the counter only to realize that I was at a friends house in Saskatoon. A full three hour drive away from my starting point in Regina.
I was lucky. All I’m trying to say here is: Don’t be a Jonze
Because I haven’t been working my regular 8-5 job, I’ve been treating weekdays as weekends lately. Since I stopped working at The Company I’ve gone out 3-4 nights a week. It’s overkill for sure, but I guess I can take advantage of the days off until I get another “real job”.
Last Thursday night was one of the BPBBs birthdays. If you head over to my Cast and Crew you’ll see I’ve updated it with these boys – there are about 5 main guys in this group. In the spirit of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs I’m calling them: Hyper (who Blondie and I work with), Grumpy, Cocky, Sleepy and Shy.
Thursday was Shy’s birthday. Shy works up North on the rigs and is only in town sporadically. We always have a good time with the BPBBs so when I saw Shy come in and sit at the bar while Hyper, Blondie and I were working (best lounge team ever) I knew it was going to be a fun (if a little messy) night.
Turns out Grumpy had stood Shy up (on his birthday!) because he was too tired to go out. I got done work first so I sat with Shy doing shots and chatting. Since Blondie and Hyper weren’t scheduled to be off for another hour or so we decided to mosey on over to The Restaurant after-work-hang-out pub while we waited.
Needless to say, I really didn’t mind keeping him entertained while we waited.
Weirdly enough, he’s actually a really nice guy too. When the fuck does that ever happen?
So after they were done working, the four of us headed over to the bar we’ve affectionately nicknamed the WhoreHouse for some Seven-Dollar Triples.
You can guess where this is going.
We danced, we drank…As per usual the boys wouldn’t let us pay for anything so we had to sneak away to buy some birthday shots.
Then of course Blondie decided an after party at my house would be a fantastic idea. After all, I did have two bottles of wine, music and no roommate to worry about waking up.
Never mind my white carpets (now stained wino red), my kitten (that Blondie is allergic to) or the fact that I don’t have a spare room (no worries – Shy just crashed with me while the other two shared the couches).
I guess not having a day job to worry about isn’t such a bad thing…for now*.
*when I come crawling to you people asking for the number to AA, crying that I can’t pay rent or my bills and wearing dollar-discount underwear from the Korean lingerie shop I will probably change my tune. Until then, random nights out are in.
These tickets I got were for Simple Plan – an emo Canadian band. I was on the fence about going (especially since it was highly unlikely that any of the Executives would be there meaning no free booze) but as Blondie said, “what the hell, let’s check it out”.
As we walked through the stadium doors we realized that we were the wrong age group (14 year olds anyone?), no big deal – at least we had the private box right?
Turns out someone in my company knows a herd of 14 year old girls and gave 8 of them tickets so they could scream in our ears and wave flashing plastic lights on strings around. The up-side? The Pres and his new girlfriend were there – let’s crack some wine, shall we?
A few bottles of wine and a decent opening band (Metro Station) later, we called our friend Hiker to work out a plan for the evening. She picked us up a few songs later and off we were to drink martinis and make bad decisions at her house.
Actually, the bad decisions came later, the only decisions we made were what to wear, and what to drink. The BPBBoys called us and wanted us to meet them at The Whiskey (a dance club: usually packed, expensive, lame and sweaty – in other words, exactly what we were in the mood for). One of their friends was moving the next day and another friend was back from the rigs for a week.
Anyway, an hour or so (and lots of shots) later, we’re on the dance floor having a great time when the guy who’s moving says: “Here, open your mouth” so stupid, naive me, thinking it’s a shot or something, open my mouth and close my eyes.
He pops it in there and I swallow: “What was that?” “E!”…um, I’m sorry, what?!
I’ve never done E, in fact, I’ve never tried any hard drugs. I smoke weed very occasionally (maybe once every six months) and I’ve had mushrooms a few times in my life. I’m a naturally hyper person. I naturally like to dance until 4 in the morning, then break out the Rockband and keep going (uh, see: Last Weekend). I’m usually the last one awake and run off very little sleep.
Maybe that’s why he assumed I’d done it before. Maybe that’s why he thought it was ok to put it in a drunk girls mouth while dancing to house music. Maybe that’s why he looked so surprised when I told him I’ve never done it. Maybe he thought I knew.
Either way, I started to feel weird a little bit later – tingly, unattached to my own body, and hyper. We were all dancing and having a generally good time (although I did feel really weird) and Hiker took it upon herself to take Blondie and I out of there.
She tore a strip off of Dealer-dude and even one of the BPBBoys for letting him give it to us (he’d done the same thing to Blondie, although she got half of one) and then we climbed in a cab and headed to Blondie’s apartment.
I sat outside telling the girls I loved them and chain-smoking for about an hour. I kept thanking them for taking care of me and looking at my hands like they were magical. Hiker took off after she was sure we were ok.
Once inside, we had to be quiet because Curly’s mom happened to be visiting. I literally stood at the end of Blondie’s bed, holding myself up with the bedpost, semi-dancing, telling her how much I loved her and drinking water for about two more hours while she laid in bed eating chips and laughing at me.
We met some of the boys for lunch the next day. BPBB1 explained to us that his buddy was sure we’d done it and felt bad once he found out we hadn’t ever done it before.
I don’t hold grudges, I wasn’t mad at anyone – shit happens, people assume things they shouldn’t. I had fun, I didn’t die and it was all good.
However, I definitely won’t be falling for that trick again.
Moving on, I guess I could tell you about how Saturday I went to Taste of Calgary and flirted shamelessly with one of the guys handing out beers. He was hot so I’m forgiven. Turns out he is friends with Blondie’s friend, Trainer. He used to be a trainer too so he’s got muscles and height which are a good combination in my eyes. I hate being set up but if we all happen to go out sometime I won’t complain. Meaning, we better all go out sometime or I will complain.
Saturday night I had my mother over for dinner. I made portobello mushroom chicken and roasted peppers with a salad. At least the food was pretty good. My mother is very hard to explain so I won’t bother trying. I’ll just say that after dinner we drank a bottle of wine, a bottle of mojitos, and some coolers.
Frenchie and her sister showed up, because the three of us were going to this housewarming party together. For the first half an hour all was good, my mom was well-behaved although super drunk and trying a little too hard to be funny. When she tries to be funny she ends up being mean.
For example, Frenchie and her sis Pouts, look very young. They are 28 and 30 but look about 18 or 20. My mother started on about them being so cute but then she started talking about how flat-chested Pouts is. I think it was something like Pouts is flat-chested but Frenchie makes up for it in her ass (which is a lovely ass – very J-Lo-esque).
So Frenchie says “I think it’s time to go”. This was either before or after my mother asked if she could reverse time and have an abortion 24 years ago (that’s when I was born). Yes, my mother the comedian. All night the girls were like “hm ya ok, we get it why you get upset about her”.
I’m used to it, but it’s strange for someone else’s mother to be insulting you I would guess.
The housewarming party was good although the cops showed up twice (I had a flashback to High School) and Blondie and I decided cartwheels were fun to do down the street. I have sore arms, neck, legs and back today. Who knew cartwheels hurt so much.
Sunday was spent in the fetal position on the couch with popcorn and water. I did manage to get myself up to go to a movie at the most crowded theatre on earth. Why is it that when you look your worst you run into the people you definitely don’t want to see?
I ran into a high school girlfriend, who was all perfectly groomed and dressed. Meanwhile I’m wearing ripped jeans (from the days when that was trendy – circa 2005) and an old Guess sweater with my hair up in a messy bun. Then I ran into HottieMcDoMeNow who I know from the private club I used to work at.
I guess some things we’ll just never know.
Alice: Got a package yesterday…how was your week?
O/N: Good for you! Guess this means I’m out of a job 😦
Alice: Hardly. I ordered them in a drunken stupor, plus it’s more fun with someone else
O/N: Yeah, don’t hurt yourself
I was waiting for a cab outside my house Saturday night, on my way to karaoke (don’t judge) and I heard the neighbors a few doors down playing guitar and singing. In the spirit of being neighborly I decided to go over there and say hi. I walked into the backyard:
“Hello, I’m just from a few doors down and heard the music here. I can’t find a lighter to save my life; do you guys happen to have one?”
So this one girl says “There’s a light right there,” pointing to a tiki torch. After I awkwardly light my cigarette, trying not to engulf my hair in a huge ball of fire, the girl gives a little laugh and says “Oh, I actually do have a lighter”.
Sunday we’re rafting down the Elbow River, drinking beers, just minding our own business when we see a group of police officers standing on the shore. Normally I wouldn’t be too worried because the cops are fairly lenient on the Elbow. However, we didn’t have any lifejackets and they began to yell at us.
“Girls in the grey raft! Hey! Girls with the palm tree! Get your lifejackets on!” Keep in mind this river is waist deep at the highest point and most people bring their small children to wade there. It’s not dangerous.
We pretended to root around for the jackets (our boats being so deep we couldn’t find them and all). One of the officers made a half-assed attempt to bike along the shore beside us for a minute and then gave up. Onward-ho we went.
Further down the river we stopped our convoy of five rafts to have a little beer and suntan break on the shore. As we’re lounging by the river we see two cops walking along the banks, stopping to talk to rafters occasionally. Partially because we were drunk and partially out of fear of reprimand for the lifejacket situation we all jumped on the rafts and pushed away from the bank yelling “oleee, ole ole ole!” Yes that’s smart – call more attention to yourselves.
As we were fleeing the cops, one of the rafts ran into a large stick and punctured. Then, in our hurry to rearrange ourselves on the remaining rafts, one of the girls jumped in hers and onto the paddles which promptly snapped in half.
I had a fabulous day. I was woken up at 8:30 am (yes, I realize an early wake-up does not a fabulous day make – wait for it) by my friend Blondie to let me know West Jet was having a seat sale. She’s been trying to get me to come to PEI with her for ever. We booked our flights round trip for $380! To understand the ridiculousness of this you have to know that it’s across the country (obviously) and that when I went to Newfoundland in 2002 it cost me $1100 – and that was considered “cheap”.
My work sponsored a Heavy-Horse Pull team this year (I sound like such a cowboy lately – I swear it’s just because the Stampede is here this week) so I brought two of my very good friends – PA and his wife Frenchie (one girl whom I can tell anything to without ever being judged – love her). We watched the event and drank free beer and generally had a really good time. The cute singer of the band at the event even came and introduced himself to me, which was sweet.
One of the Committee Chairmen and I were chatting and he asked where my boyfriend was. I said I didn’t have one since O/N and I haven’t really talked about it or anything. So he goes into the whole “Well, why not? Pretty young girl like yourself?” To which I always feel like answering:
“Because I don’t actually need a boyfriend to feel good and secure and like I’m worth something. I’m perfectly happy being myself, independent and knowing that I have all my fantastic friends and a great guy who I like spending time with. I don’t necessarily need the labels and the crap that may come with it and maybe in a few years time I’ll be all over that like white on rice but for now I’m actually quite content just living and taking things as they come.”
But of course I didn’t say that. I laughed, shrugged and said something awkward. You know with the whole batting of the eyelashes. “Tee hee, I dunno”.
So that’s fine. Cab drivers ask me if I’m married all the time and when I say no they ask why. When I was a receptionist, the clients in the reception area would ask me if I was married and why not. Strangers always ask me if I’m married and although I feel like telling them that I’m not sure I ever even want to be married and it’s none of their business anyway, I don’t. I laugh and blow it off, but it does get kind of annoying.
It wouldn’t have bothered me so much except that walking to the bar with PA and Frenchie we ran into my friend Bubbly and her new boyfriend. Then my friend PartyGirl and her new boyfriend. We proceeded to the bar with Bubbly and bf, where we met her friends. Another couple. I’m normally very good at not being awkward or even feeling like a 5th (7th?) wheel but this was like coupledom embodied. So between the texts with O/N (who was out with his guy friends for a birthday) I had to enjoy 3 new couples and a married set. Granted the marrieds are the best and I never feel awkward with them. New couples however? Totally different story.
So I left.
And here I am, drunk and rambling. Maybe I’m being a big baby and should have just sucked it up and enjoyed spending some QT with my friends, but really? Not feeling it. Plus I met three really awesome people while waiting for a cab outside, which we ended up all sharing. To thank me for sharing (cabs are impossible to find this week) they paid for my fare so I guess all in all the day was actually pretty great. I think I’ll just have to stay out of those awkward 5th wheel situations for a while.
You know how girls always have that cutesy romantic fantasy of making out in the rain? Maybe of getting flowers delivered anonymously to her office? Or there’s the one where you get into a big screaming fight and then the girl says something controversial, and the guy yells can’t you see it’s because I love you? or something along those lines. I’m not sure what’s sexy or fantastical about a screaming match though, so that last one may just be my twisted mind.
Anyway, last night I decided that making out in the rain was certainly not cute enough. Or perhaps I figured it was TOO cute. See, I don’t really do cute/romantic/sweet. Yet, after a drunken night of two-stepping, cowboy hats and Bud (yuck – Bud sponsors the Stampede, it tastes like piss water to me) and after disrobing to hop in the shower with O/N, he pulls me outside for a little dance.
Side note: Yes. This really happened. To me. Yes I know, it’s wrong and cheesy and a little horrifying.
Remember though; I am naked. He is naked. It’s raining. We’re dancing. Obviously we ended up getting it on in the backyard with me bent over a flower pot.
So afterwards, after the shower, we’re laying in bed being idiots (we were trying to see who could make thier voice lower while saying “ohhhhh yeaaahh”, like in that commercial? He obviously won, being a boy and all but I think I put in a valiant effort), and he tells me he has a song for me. Keep in mind he is drunk here. He says: “AA [my initials] I think I love you, AA, I think I love you, dah dah dum dah” to which I giggled awkwardly and changed the subject.
What can I say. Dancing in the rain and confessions of love in a song, all in one night? Too much for a self-proclaimed cynic to handle.
Oh, and I just hope his neighbors don’t have telescopic-lensed cameras.
I think we used up all our funny this weekend. I have never laughed so hard in my life (other then an incident that involved poker, cake, Michael Bolton and dog food but that’s a story for another day). I’m not sure if it was the hot (32-38 degree Celsius) weather, the steady stream of alcoholic beverages or just the fact that I was with people I love to be around but holy hell was it a fun trip.
Although there are a few fuzzy details (why was the joke about roofies so hilarious? Who first started comparing Larry to Chuck Norris? Why did we decide that swimming through the lake in pitch black night was far safer then traipsing through the woods to return to the boat?) I guess some things we’ll just never know.
In light of the weekend, and since I seem to always have a list once a week here is:
I May or May Not Have:
Left the Following on O/N’s Boat (he was there for a stag):
- 1 leg warmer
- 2 pink & black gauntlet gloves
- 1 black skirt
- 1 rabbit tail
- 4 beaded shot glasses
- 1 gold flip-flop
- 1 sailor hat
- 2 bikini ties
- My singledom (more on that another day)
Used the Following Sentences:
- Damage deposit…? Well, what happens if we lose the boat? ( I was dead serious)
- I only call you bitches ‘cuz I don’t know y’all individually
- Listen you douche-monkeys
- Nobody can die on my watch. Promise? It’s almost Co-Captains turn so lets jump off the edge then.
- Who knew a mag light was water proof!? What? It’s not? Shit.
- Larry doesn’t throw up when he drinks too much…He throws down!
- Well your damage deposit may be gone…but so are we…ha!
- It’s wabbit-hunting season (while dressed like a playboy bunny)
- Two men…one toothbrush
Done the Following:
- A keg stand, after which I promptly projectile vomited beer, then did another.
- Hit my head on a ceiling fan and loudly announced that I was “concussed”
- Woken up, poured & drank a Gin caesar, then gone back to bed on the top deck
- Thought I was going to die on the way home when our driver, going 200 in the pouring rain decided it would be funny to start poking her bf. Around the mountains. While passing another car.
So August-long anyone…?
Picturesque mountains surround the calm, crystal clear blue lake. Water trickles from high in the porous rocks. In the distance a seagull floats gently on a gust of wind. Welcome to the Shuswaps, located in the heart of beautiful British Columbia. Please step on board, take a seat and relax.
On the menu for this evening is a steady diet of Vodka, mixed with water and a touch of lime. Be sure you’ve dressed in your 80s finery and have those ponytails teased and ready.
Tonight we go back to the glory days of music. The neon colors and big hair; the leggings, stir-ups and leg-warmers of yester-year. Let me just park this rig over here on this sandy beach, next to the other houseboat full of people ready to party.
Tomorrow we’ll all wake up hungover, but not to fear – I’ll have caesars at the ready for all 14 of you. Whats that you say? Why yes, we will be floating around the lake all day today, relaxing in our hot tub with the music blaring and radio-ing other boats to make sure there are plenty of hot men in stock.
Not to worry, Saturday is playboy bunny night, so make sure you wear your hottest little bikini (but if it’s hotter then mine I’ll be pissed). The party at Nielson beach tonight will consist of, oh maybe 100 other boatloads of people, disco on the beach, a live band, a foam party, hot tubs, bikinis, fireworks, and Vodka…let’s not forget the Vodka.
Sunday perhaps we’ll take it easy in the hot tub again. The men with the parasailing boat should be swinging by any time now for those of you who would like to go for a little ride. If parasailing isn’t your thing, there are seadoos and speedboats a plenty. Water-skiing anyone?
Don’t forget that today is Sexy Sailors and Pirates themed so get those navy and white bikini and stilettos out. Yes, it’s perfectly acceptable to be wearing stilettos on a rocking boat and the sandy beach. Silly question! Can I make you another beverage?
Welcome to your July long weekend…