As many of you know, I've been single for a little while now, and as part of my transformation upon moving back to Washington, I decided to jump into the Wonderful World of Dating. I've come to realize that my dear friend Jake was not exaggerating when he told me, "Kay, these Washington girls are nothing like Callie girls. It's a whole new ball game." The first thing I've noticed is that a shocking number of people here are polyamorous. A shocking number. Roughly half the online dating ads I see are for someone looking for a boyfriend AND a girlfriend. I know you aren't supposed to knock it till you've tried it, but I'm just not feeling that.
I have now been on (for me) a substantial amount of blind dates. I have decided to expand upon the classic definition of "blind date," because this is the digital world. You can find pictures of almost anyone if you look hard enough. For me, I choose to use it to define going on a date with a person I have not previously met.
In this lovely state I have chosen to relocate to East Jesus Nowhere, so that usually provides me with a 1.5 to 2 hour drive to meet up with these potential dates. That's a lot of time to get nervous, freak out, debate with yourself back and forth over whether or not to no-show, and to call pretty much everyone in your address book to share in the freak-out.
I am someone who moves rather slowly in the dating game, so I decided that instead of full-on dates (with all of the pressure of deciding who pays, who drives, who kisses whom at the end of the night, etc.) I would simply friend-date. It's important to me that I be able to be friends with someone I could potentially date, so I thought this was a very logical solution. Added bonus: I haven't lived in this state in over 5 years; anyone I was friends with before has either moved, disappeared, or gotten married and turned into a baby-making-machine. I can always use more friends.
...Until you come to realize that there are some people that you'd not even be friends with. I know, I sound like such a bitch. Before you judge me too harshly, allow me to introduce Friend Date #1.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Monday, November 09, 2009
Why do we bother with sleeping anyway?
It's 0200 and I am filled with an aura of awesome. I can't sleep but that's not bugging me right now. Instead I am wondering why we ever try to sleep at all. If we could just not sleep, imagine how much more productive we'd be. Sleeping consumes one-fourth to one-third of everyone's day, and for what?
Besides, I find that I am at my height of creativity late at night. I make the best CD mixes, I have the most ease in converting my thoughts to words, I create most of my random artistic crafts; all of it late-night. I think I should just become a night person, sleep during the day and do all my living under the cloak of darkness.
Think of the benefits:
-I could gain quite the reputation as the neighborhood creeper, a living legend among the local children.
-I wouldn't have to fight those horrendous grocery store crowds anymore; no one grocery shops at 3 am (except the crack heads, but they're mostly harmless).
-The sun will no longer be my enemy. The amount of money I'll save in sunscreen alone almost makes up for the possible hermitie side effects.
-Never again will the dog park be too crowded. (Of course, since Lolo is a bigger pansy about the cold than her owner is, this might not be a very big win).
-My sleep schedule would be ideal for weekend partying plans; no more fear of being the first to fall victim to sleep.
-As everyone else is waking up and fighting through the morning rush hour traffic, I could be crawling into my bed, ready to sleep the day away. And I do love my bed. It's pretty much the most awesome bed in the history of beds. The perfect mixture of firm and squishy. One can sleep on their stomach, back, side, any way they please, and it's all good sleep.
When you look at all of that, who wouldn't want to switch to nighttime living immediately? Who is with me?
Besides, I find that I am at my height of creativity late at night. I make the best CD mixes, I have the most ease in converting my thoughts to words, I create most of my random artistic crafts; all of it late-night. I think I should just become a night person, sleep during the day and do all my living under the cloak of darkness.
Think of the benefits:
-I could gain quite the reputation as the neighborhood creeper, a living legend among the local children.
-I wouldn't have to fight those horrendous grocery store crowds anymore; no one grocery shops at 3 am (except the crack heads, but they're mostly harmless).
-The sun will no longer be my enemy. The amount of money I'll save in sunscreen alone almost makes up for the possible hermitie side effects.
-Never again will the dog park be too crowded. (Of course, since Lolo is a bigger pansy about the cold than her owner is, this might not be a very big win).
-My sleep schedule would be ideal for weekend partying plans; no more fear of being the first to fall victim to sleep.
-As everyone else is waking up and fighting through the morning rush hour traffic, I could be crawling into my bed, ready to sleep the day away. And I do love my bed. It's pretty much the most awesome bed in the history of beds. The perfect mixture of firm and squishy. One can sleep on their stomach, back, side, any way they please, and it's all good sleep.
When you look at all of that, who wouldn't want to switch to nighttime living immediately? Who is with me?
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
Lolo Tales EDIT: Now with pictures
As I lie here in my peaceful bath of bubbles and Epsom salts, the sound of whatever my DVR is set to record Wednesday nights playing in the background, I am struck with a profound, even life-altering thought. Is it the cure for cancer? Is it the meaning of life? Is it a way to spit out the billion stories of epic adventures floating around in my head? Nay. It is the realization that I have created a monster. Lolo has been sitting outside the bathroom door (that I had to trick her into going through mind you) whining for 15 solid minutes. While I have made much progress and am now able to take my showers dog-free roughly 95% of the time, Lolo believes that any time a bath is drawn, it is for her. As soon as the water starts running she mysteriously appears from whatever adventure had previously been holding her ADHD brain captive and will jump into the tub. It doesn't matter if she is dead asleep or outside running around like a mini wilder beast. As soon as the shower is turned on in fill-the-tub mode, Lolo is there.
I now realize I cannot live in a house that does not have a bath tub. I cannot live with anyone who intends to take baths frequently (because how do you explain an 8 pound monster who does not care who is in the tub when she decides it's bath time?) I'm not even sure I can have roomies again, because we would have to take Lolo's bathtub needs into consideration when scheduling shower shifts. (Side note: do people really do that? Schedule shower shifts? I've only ever had one roomie, but I assume that if there were several people who needed to get up and out the door around the same time that it would be problematic...)
She's a monster, plain and simple. She will spend as much time in the tub as I let her. She has these two little penguin swimmer toys, they zoom around the sides of the tub and she chases them. It's the most entertaining thing ever. As soon as I find the chord for my camera I'll upload the videos. In the mean time, we're mysteriously running low on bubble bath, and my allotted bath time is up. The upside: once Lolo's done with bath time she's usually ready to crash. Score!
Halloween story and Dating Chronicles are still on their way.
I now realize I cannot live in a house that does not have a bath tub. I cannot live with anyone who intends to take baths frequently (because how do you explain an 8 pound monster who does not care who is in the tub when she decides it's bath time?) I'm not even sure I can have roomies again, because we would have to take Lolo's bathtub needs into consideration when scheduling shower shifts. (Side note: do people really do that? Schedule shower shifts? I've only ever had one roomie, but I assume that if there were several people who needed to get up and out the door around the same time that it would be problematic...)
She's a monster, plain and simple. She will spend as much time in the tub as I let her. She has these two little penguin swimmer toys, they zoom around the sides of the tub and she chases them. It's the most entertaining thing ever. As soon as I find the chord for my camera I'll upload the videos. In the mean time, we're mysteriously running low on bubble bath, and my allotted bath time is up. The upside: once Lolo's done with bath time she's usually ready to crash. Score!Halloween story and Dating Chronicles are still on their way.
Monday, November 02, 2009
Update
I've got a couple of meetings coming up this week with advisors to discuss switching my major. Just discuss at this point, no need to get alarmed. I'm just really torn at this point between continuing to pursue my nursing degree, and going with an English major. I have rediscovered my love for writing and editing, so I am looking into the possibility of following that.
That said, stay tuned for some updates coming at you. We've got a Halloween adventure in the works and the Dating Chronicles are still on their way to a computer screen near you.
Much love to you all
Kay
That said, stay tuned for some updates coming at you. We've got a Halloween adventure in the works and the Dating Chronicles are still on their way to a computer screen near you.
Much love to you all
Kay
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
I Love Grey's Anatomy
6 minutes in to last week's episode: "You can't pray away the gay!!!"
I love DVR. My parents have no idea how to use it, so it is ALL MINE. It is especially useful this week as I see that most of my shows are taking a week or two off. They upgraded to HD and DVR a few weeks after I moved in to my casa, and it's wired out to my place too, so I can use their DVR whenever and it doesn't affect them.
I went on a complete failure of a blind date Thursday, I have been super exhausted for about a week now (I blame all this damn rain), and I am trying super hard to not get sick.
One of my profs has been sick for a few days, leaving me with no class after my morning Chem class. Today I was left with a three hour window between classes, and I have to admit, I was not looking forward to my final class of the day. I texted several people to kill some time, and when my bud Candace told me to come over I could not leave fast enough. It did not matter that it was 45 minutes in the opposite direction of my house. It was not a mind numbing two hour countdown to Psych. Did I mention that Candace is close to attaining new BFF status, due to the fact that she feeds me? I bringeth the cupcakes, she maketh the lunch. When she finds another job I shall be much saddened.
Check back soon for the Seattle Blind Gayting Chronicles. I subject myself to random blind dates for your enjoyment. You know you're interested.
I love DVR. My parents have no idea how to use it, so it is ALL MINE. It is especially useful this week as I see that most of my shows are taking a week or two off. They upgraded to HD and DVR a few weeks after I moved in to my casa, and it's wired out to my place too, so I can use their DVR whenever and it doesn't affect them.
I went on a complete failure of a blind date Thursday, I have been super exhausted for about a week now (I blame all this damn rain), and I am trying super hard to not get sick.
One of my profs has been sick for a few days, leaving me with no class after my morning Chem class. Today I was left with a three hour window between classes, and I have to admit, I was not looking forward to my final class of the day. I texted several people to kill some time, and when my bud Candace told me to come over I could not leave fast enough. It did not matter that it was 45 minutes in the opposite direction of my house. It was not a mind numbing two hour countdown to Psych. Did I mention that Candace is close to attaining new BFF status, due to the fact that she feeds me? I bringeth the cupcakes, she maketh the lunch. When she finds another job I shall be much saddened.
Check back soon for the Seattle Blind Gayting Chronicles. I subject myself to random blind dates for your enjoyment. You know you're interested.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
It's 2AM and of course I can't sleep
I've missed this place. I've missed you people. I've missed writing. I'm finding my English 101 class and professor to be very inspiring; they are presenting a challenge that I'm quite enjoying.
I have decided to post my essays here. The first was a photo narrative essay. The assignment was to write about a picture that held some significance to us. Enjoy:
Thank You For Your Eighties
30 minutes to show time, there are at least 100 people in the sectioned off side entrance of the San Francisco Borders. Not a bad turnout for a Wednesday night. The crowd is mostly women, a few husbands or boyfriends have been drug along for the event. Their ages span a wide range, 20 somethings impatiently browsing the nearby racks of books in their boredom. The 30 somethings are jockeying for the best position to see the stage while staying clear of the aisles as instructed. The 40 and up crowd obviously showed up early and have control of the metal folding chairs situated in front of the stage. Everyone receives a wristband as they arrive, a pecking order is established by the color we are assigned. Those in the folding chair crowd are showing off their yellow bands that let everyone know they got here first. My purple wristband doesn’t let me get anywhere near the seating, but I’m closer to the stage than the red or green crowd.
This night really began weeks ago, when I saw that brief announcement on Twitter. Jen Lancaster was about to embark on an eighties themed book signing, and one of the first stops was San Francisco. Jen Lancaster. The woman who taught us to never dress to impress with pearls and your Prada bag when going to the unemployment office. The woman who selflessly shared the valuable lesson that Ambien plus wine equals a truckload of new furniture from PotteryBarn.com. The woman who writes nasty letters to her trashy neighbors from a made-up homeowners association. There was no way I was going to miss this.
I had to find the perfect outfit. It became a mission. I tore through my closet looking for any possible leads. I had some super faded button-fly Levis I stole from my brother that had probably seen the eighties, and a pair of Converse All-Stars, but that was about it. I hit the malls like a washed up one hit wonder hits VH1. Luckily the Sacramento malls were going through some horrible eighties flashback. I found an obnoxiously bright DC shirt that I didn’t mind being seen in public in at PacSun. Anchor Blue had a dazzling array of tank tops where I found one that matched my new shirt. Some random mall kiosk offered up the perfect accessory-large pink stunner shades that were so bad I almost liked them.
The only foreseeable problem was my hair. It’s just not long enough to turn into big eighties hair. I could always try a wig, but those things have freaked me out since I watched Hocus Pocus with my aunt when I was young. I spent countless hours in the bathroom playing with different hairstyles in the mirror. The day of the meet-and-greet my hair was most uncooperative, and I ended up throwing on a hat as I ran out the door.
Because I am a huge tool, I pre-ordered Jen’s new book via Amazon weeks earlier. By the time of the book signing I had already read it. Twice. But waiting in that room with all those other fans, I was still eager to hear Jen read an excerpt from the book to us. Jen’s tour assistant (who was pretty impressive dressed in a leotard, tights, leg warmers, and a side-pony) was reading a Would You Rather book to the audience to warm up the crowd.
Seven o’clock rolls around and the crowd grows quieter. There has been no indication that Jen’s even here yet, but it’s the magical time. Everyone’s looking around, scanning the room, wondering which door she’ll come in. Ten minutes past seven one of the Borders employees announces that she’s on her way up and the excitement grows in the room. Jen walks into the room and you’d think Hannah Montana had just walked into an elementary school. Everyone is on their feet cheering and crowding the aisle and I can see nothing. I move behind a short lady, and now I can kind of see the stage. Jen tells us a story about getting a pedicure in Portland where the woman was so rough she ended up with bruises on her legs. She reads a hilarious excerpt about her first encounter with lobster as a 9 year old. The audience is eating out of her hand. She opens up the floor for some Q&A and someone asks what she’s working on next. She tells us there are a couple of new books in the works. Someone asks if there’s a possibility of a movie or a TV show. She says “No, why, have you heard something?” Everyone laughs. There are a couple more questions then we’re it’s time for the autograph session.
The Borders employee in charge of wristbands instructs us to line up in order of color, yellow first, then purple, red, and green. Because there was no further direction, chaos erupts as people rush to try to line up before everyone else. The line quickly extends around the store. I end up by a couple of ladies decked out in some awesome eighties attire. Lisa is sporting some big eighties hair (courtesy of AquaNet), an off the shoulder sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off, and has pegged the legs of her jeans. Michelle is dressed more conservatively in two polo shirts with popped collars and a pair of Jordache jeans. We talk about how slowly the line is moving, about the lack of participation in the dress-up theme of the event, about the random order of the books. One aisle of books contains the categories marriage, divorce, and substance abuse, which amuses us for several minutes.
The whole time we’re standing in line I’m mulling over what to say when it’s finally my turn to meet Jen Lancaster. It needs to be something witty that stands out from what everyone else is saying. The line slowly creeps forward. Time crawls by. I’m next in line and I start to panic slightly. I hand my cell phone to the awesomely dressed assistant to take my picture, and as I walk up to Jen all thoughts leave my head. What witty comment comes out of my mouth?
“OMG you rock!” I almost cringe as the words come out of my mouth. “Thank you, that means so much,” comes Jen’s graceful reply. We pose perfectly and hold our smiles for an eternity as the assistant tries to take the picture with my phone. I walk around the table and show her what to click. Michelle and Lisa make fun of me for taking so much time. The four of us start talking about all the awesome eighties outfits we’ve seen as I awkwardly resume my crouching pose again. Jen then looks at me and asks if I was even born yet in the eighties. I say yes, then sheepishly admit that it was eighty-five. Jen, Michelle and Lisa all groan. Jen signs my book and my time is up. I thank her again and she shakes my hand and says, “Thank you for your eighties.”
I have decided to post my essays here. The first was a photo narrative essay. The assignment was to write about a picture that held some significance to us. Enjoy:
Thank You For Your Eighties
30 minutes to show time, there are at least 100 people in the sectioned off side entrance of the San Francisco Borders. Not a bad turnout for a Wednesday night. The crowd is mostly women, a few husbands or boyfriends have been drug along for the event. Their ages span a wide range, 20 somethings impatiently browsing the nearby racks of books in their boredom. The 30 somethings are jockeying for the best position to see the stage while staying clear of the aisles as instructed. The 40 and up crowd obviously showed up early and have control of the metal folding chairs situated in front of the stage. Everyone receives a wristband as they arrive, a pecking order is established by the color we are assigned. Those in the folding chair crowd are showing off their yellow bands that let everyone know they got here first. My purple wristband doesn’t let me get anywhere near the seating, but I’m closer to the stage than the red or green crowd.
This night really began weeks ago, when I saw that brief announcement on Twitter. Jen Lancaster was about to embark on an eighties themed book signing, and one of the first stops was San Francisco. Jen Lancaster. The woman who taught us to never dress to impress with pearls and your Prada bag when going to the unemployment office. The woman who selflessly shared the valuable lesson that Ambien plus wine equals a truckload of new furniture from PotteryBarn.com. The woman who writes nasty letters to her trashy neighbors from a made-up homeowners association. There was no way I was going to miss this.
I had to find the perfect outfit. It became a mission. I tore through my closet looking for any possible leads. I had some super faded button-fly Levis I stole from my brother that had probably seen the eighties, and a pair of Converse All-Stars, but that was about it. I hit the malls like a washed up one hit wonder hits VH1. Luckily the Sacramento malls were going through some horrible eighties flashback. I found an obnoxiously bright DC shirt that I didn’t mind being seen in public in at PacSun. Anchor Blue had a dazzling array of tank tops where I found one that matched my new shirt. Some random mall kiosk offered up the perfect accessory-large pink stunner shades that were so bad I almost liked them.
The only foreseeable problem was my hair. It’s just not long enough to turn into big eighties hair. I could always try a wig, but those things have freaked me out since I watched Hocus Pocus with my aunt when I was young. I spent countless hours in the bathroom playing with different hairstyles in the mirror. The day of the meet-and-greet my hair was most uncooperative, and I ended up throwing on a hat as I ran out the door.
Because I am a huge tool, I pre-ordered Jen’s new book via Amazon weeks earlier. By the time of the book signing I had already read it. Twice. But waiting in that room with all those other fans, I was still eager to hear Jen read an excerpt from the book to us. Jen’s tour assistant (who was pretty impressive dressed in a leotard, tights, leg warmers, and a side-pony) was reading a Would You Rather book to the audience to warm up the crowd.
Seven o’clock rolls around and the crowd grows quieter. There has been no indication that Jen’s even here yet, but it’s the magical time. Everyone’s looking around, scanning the room, wondering which door she’ll come in. Ten minutes past seven one of the Borders employees announces that she’s on her way up and the excitement grows in the room. Jen walks into the room and you’d think Hannah Montana had just walked into an elementary school. Everyone is on their feet cheering and crowding the aisle and I can see nothing. I move behind a short lady, and now I can kind of see the stage. Jen tells us a story about getting a pedicure in Portland where the woman was so rough she ended up with bruises on her legs. She reads a hilarious excerpt about her first encounter with lobster as a 9 year old. The audience is eating out of her hand. She opens up the floor for some Q&A and someone asks what she’s working on next. She tells us there are a couple of new books in the works. Someone asks if there’s a possibility of a movie or a TV show. She says “No, why, have you heard something?” Everyone laughs. There are a couple more questions then we’re it’s time for the autograph session.
The Borders employee in charge of wristbands instructs us to line up in order of color, yellow first, then purple, red, and green. Because there was no further direction, chaos erupts as people rush to try to line up before everyone else. The line quickly extends around the store. I end up by a couple of ladies decked out in some awesome eighties attire. Lisa is sporting some big eighties hair (courtesy of AquaNet), an off the shoulder sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off, and has pegged the legs of her jeans. Michelle is dressed more conservatively in two polo shirts with popped collars and a pair of Jordache jeans. We talk about how slowly the line is moving, about the lack of participation in the dress-up theme of the event, about the random order of the books. One aisle of books contains the categories marriage, divorce, and substance abuse, which amuses us for several minutes.
The whole time we’re standing in line I’m mulling over what to say when it’s finally my turn to meet Jen Lancaster. It needs to be something witty that stands out from what everyone else is saying. The line slowly creeps forward. Time crawls by. I’m next in line and I start to panic slightly. I hand my cell phone to the awesomely dressed assistant to take my picture, and as I walk up to Jen all thoughts leave my head. What witty comment comes out of my mouth?
“OMG you rock!” I almost cringe as the words come out of my mouth. “Thank you, that means so much,” comes Jen’s graceful reply. We pose perfectly and hold our smiles for an eternity as the assistant tries to take the picture with my phone. I walk around the table and show her what to click. Michelle and Lisa make fun of me for taking so much time. The four of us start talking about all the awesome eighties outfits we’ve seen as I awkwardly resume my crouching pose again. Jen then looks at me and asks if I was even born yet in the eighties. I say yes, then sheepishly admit that it was eighty-five. Jen, Michelle and Lisa all groan. Jen signs my book and my time is up. I thank her again and she shakes my hand and says, “Thank you for your eighties.”
Friday, October 16, 2009
2 posts in the same week? OMG
Hey kids,
I'm writing a paper for my English class, and decided to do it on a part of my kanser adventure, so I was back here to read through my blogs from Chemo. What a hellish period of time. It made me so emotional just reading back through it, I was right back there. I could feel the nausea, the needle going into my port, taste the chemicals in the back of my throat. Someone told me a while back that I have PTSD from my cancer. I told them they were fucking crazy, but it's possible I suppose.
Reflecting on all of this, (and reading the comments), I am so thankful for my amazing friends. Thank you all for being there for me, I don't deserve any of you.
Love to all of you (but not on you).
Fuck Cancer,
California-less Kay
I'm writing a paper for my English class, and decided to do it on a part of my kanser adventure, so I was back here to read through my blogs from Chemo. What a hellish period of time. It made me so emotional just reading back through it, I was right back there. I could feel the nausea, the needle going into my port, taste the chemicals in the back of my throat. Someone told me a while back that I have PTSD from my cancer. I told them they were fucking crazy, but it's possible I suppose.
Reflecting on all of this, (and reading the comments), I am so thankful for my amazing friends. Thank you all for being there for me, I don't deserve any of you.
Love to all of you (but not on you).
Fuck Cancer,
California-less Kay
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Hello my pretties
I've neglected you for far too long, and for that I apologize. I think about you all the time. I scribble little notes to you on the edges of my papers while I'm in class, so that I can come back and talk to you later, and then I forget. I'm sure my Psych professor loves the little memo's though. He cut his shaggy hair, so I'm assuming he read that one. The gotee's still with us though, so perhaps he doesn't read everything...
Anywho, I'm back in Washington. I'm in school. And I miss you. Lolo turned 1 last month! She's still my wee little bastard. I <3 Twitter. I got a Facebook (But I blame Crossbow for that one. It was a deal/dare, and I had to pay up by getting a FB.) I believe I've mentioned before that I <3 this chick, but if you're unclear, you should probably go check her out again. She makes me laugh, therefor you shall love her.
I have an English paper I'm semi writing right now, but it's being a frustrating little thing and won't come out right, so I'm "taking a break." I was actually Googling Strawberry Cupcakes and decided to pop in and tell you all that I <3 you. And cupcakes. And lamp.
Lolo's growling at me in the way that translates to "Bitch, if you don't come play with me, your shoes are going to pay," so I'm going to be a good little human-slave and listen (I have new shoes people. They don't deserve to die.) Plus I have cupcakes to bake. Let's do this again soon shall we?
Anywho, I'm back in Washington. I'm in school. And I miss you. Lolo turned 1 last month! She's still my wee little bastard. I <3 Twitter. I got a Facebook (But I blame Crossbow for that one. It was a deal/dare, and I had to pay up by getting a FB.) I believe I've mentioned before that I <3 this chick, but if you're unclear, you should probably go check her out again. She makes me laugh, therefor you shall love her.
I have an English paper I'm semi writing right now, but it's being a frustrating little thing and won't come out right, so I'm "taking a break." I was actually Googling Strawberry Cupcakes and decided to pop in and tell you all that I <3 you. And cupcakes. And lamp.
Lolo's growling at me in the way that translates to "Bitch, if you don't come play with me, your shoes are going to pay," so I'm going to be a good little human-slave and listen (I have new shoes people. They don't deserve to die.) Plus I have cupcakes to bake. Let's do this again soon shall we?
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Teaser for last night's party
Hey kids,
Last night was my going away party with my work buds. I think 22-23 fools showed up out of like 60 invited. Not too shabby. I haven't gotten the pics developed yet (I do NOT take my camera when we're drinking. Instead I get a bunch of disposables) But one of my buddies took his camera, and has dumped the pics onto myspace. Here's a quick teaser to get you all excited for my blow-by-blow recap:
Bowling.
Drinking.
Dance Dance Revolution.
Drinking.
Dancing on a Table.
Drinking.
Me doing the "I'm a pimp" dance because I hit some pins.
Me grabbin that ass. A lot of ass was grabbed last night.
Me breakin it the fuuuuuck down with a lil DDR. I am a DDR God!!!
Full recap to include more pictures and actual texts/tweets from The Night. Tell your friends! And best part? No hangover. Score!
Last night was my going away party with my work buds. I think 22-23 fools showed up out of like 60 invited. Not too shabby. I haven't gotten the pics developed yet (I do NOT take my camera when we're drinking. Instead I get a bunch of disposables) But one of my buddies took his camera, and has dumped the pics onto myspace. Here's a quick teaser to get you all excited for my blow-by-blow recap:
Bowling.
Drinking.
Dance Dance Revolution.
Drinking.
Dancing on a Table.
Drinking.
Me doing the "I'm a pimp" dance because I hit some pins.
Me grabbin that ass. A lot of ass was grabbed last night.
Me breakin it the fuuuuuck down with a lil DDR. I am a DDR God!!!Full recap to include more pictures and actual texts/tweets from The Night. Tell your friends! And best part? No hangover. Score!
Monday, June 15, 2009
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