To quote Nas: 'Hip Hop is Dead'

So me and a few of the girls got guestlisted for the Lloyd Banks show because one of our friends was opening for him (score!) and we decided to celebrate the occasion by getting ridiculously drunk - I can't even fathom how many times the words "Let's get crunk!" or some variation thereof escaped my mouth.

We were all so bored on Sunday, and we almost never get to go out with The Cave Dweller, who usually opts to sit at home and be boring with her live-in boyfriend rather than indulge in some less than wholesome fun.

We pregamed at The Pansy's place (gin and wine in case you were wondering, but not together) and bussed to the mall and continued pregaming in the luxe hotel bathrooms - classy lady party style.

We probably rolled into the club somewhere in the 10:30 range, early considering that the doors had been open for almost 3 hours at this point, but hip hop shows are notorious for running really far behind schedule. Thankfully I had the sense to down my mickey of gin in the bathroom beforehand as we were subjected to bag searches/pat downs and my swiss army knife got confiscated (it was in my purse, along with underwear - long story) but I was drunk so I didn't care and I know the bar's owner.

I lamented the loss of my knife quite loudly to all those within earshot and we made our way into the bar to meet up with some people from work.

I playfully stole The Gentle Giant's New Era and told him to relax, because I looked better in it anyways when he asked for it back while The Pansy busied herself with stealing his drink(s) and getting her flirt on.

I guess we were carrying on like this for a while, and then somehow The Cave Dweller and I ended up going down by the stage (possibly to watch our friend perform) and leaving The Pansy to her own devices.

TCD and I ended up in a little bar room tussle with same heavily madeup hoochie mamas that resulted in a rather stern shove and a quick punch to my jaw (lovely, I know) whilst jockeying for position near the front of the stage. I didn't really care to respond/get kicked out so I just left to go find The Pansy who had caught The Gentle Giant's attention and they were casually chatting up a storm in the middle of the bar.

I told her what had just happened and she was incredulous but I felt like I was killing her game so I dragged TCD downstairs again and we watched the show from a different vantage point. I get bored really easily when I'm drunk so I made my way back upstairs to find some of the other managers from work and I quickly lost track of TCD/started getting plied with free bevvies.

We chatted for a while, while I not so subtly tried to eke out exactly why one of them had recently broken up with The Producer, but I just ended up feeling really bad for her as she wistfully stared after him all night long while rebuffing potential suitors' advances.

At this point, The Pansy and The Gentle Giant had run off together (well not really, she told me she was leaving and grabbed her keys from my purse) and I was beginning to transition from 'fun drunk' to 'puking in a trash can drunk' so I started hitting the water and ended up running into our friend, The Rapper, and blindly accompanied him upstairs to the balcony and we chatted, intermittently being interrupted by well-wishers and hangers on, who all stopped by to congratulate him on his performance.

I'm pretty sure I was there when Lloyd Banks was performing but I was so hammered at this point that I couldn't really focus on any one thing for more than two seconds. I decided to call it a night when I couldn't find TCD (she had left earlier and told The Pansy, who I'm assuming had forgotten to relay the information back to me) and fielded 'urgent' calls from The Engineer and The Pansy almost simultaneously.

An hour later, I'm back at Casa de Pansy (I had forgotten to get my keys from my jacket pocket) and rehashing the events of that evening/making plans to ditch out on school the next day.

I had foolishly agreed to work an opening shift the next morning, and was feeling it hardcore once the sun rose. I traipsed to the bus stop after downing what seemed like six cups of coffee still dressed in the clothes I had worn out the night before and with bar star makeup in full effect. I actually had to concentrate on not heaving on the bus, and remaining upright at work for the first couple of hours, but it wasn't too busy.

The Pansy rolled in looking pretty shabby/hungover and our boss greeted us with a warm "Hey Crunkies, how were your mornings?"

"Uh, not so hot. But I'm better now"

The morning after

Two bottles of Gatorade later and I still feel like I've been punched in the face. My temples are aching and the only thing on my mind is McDonald's breakfast and not throwing up in the car on the way to work.

Somehow, we end up trapped behind the most indecisive woman ever and it takes her aeons to decide what to eat - seriously, doesn't everyone else pretty much get the same thing everytime they go to McDonald's anyways?

Almost late for work, try to come up with a good excuse/hide remnants of McDonald's.

Headache subsides slightly, only to come back with a vengeance.

Chat with customers about new stock and products I'm excited about.

Realize I'm a way better salesperson while hungover - take this as a sign I need to drink more.

Share this flash of brilliance with customers, who laugh - I'm also way funnier when hungover.

Head still feels like it's going to explode, add a touch of nausea (stupid greasy breakfast!) and mysterious bruises and random drunken flashbacks to the mix

Sell, sell, sell.

Wonder why I felt the need to mix lemon gin and wine (my new favourite pregaming beverage)

Go to the bathroom for the first time that day, at 6 pm, that's how dehydrated I was.

Vow to go to bed the second I get home, get sidetracked, and once I actually make it to bed, realize I can't sleep.

Stupid insomnia.

So. Hungover. That. It. Hurts. To. Type.

...and I had to dim the monitor to write this.

Actually it's not so bad, but I'm not feeling so hot. I'm definitely going to be suckling at the teat of Gatorade.

Last night was fun, except for the part where my friend got really mad at her boyfriend because he was getting cozy with his ex.

Putting the 'k' in classy since '84

Summary of my purse contents in case you want to take classy lady lessons from a seasoned pro:

• deodorant - for keeping fresh
• toothbrush/toothpaste/dental floss - also for keeping fresh
• underwear - you never know, also it's fun to make bag checks at work super awkward
• a 26 oz. bottle of lemon gin - the official beverage of classy ladies everywhere
• NYLON magazine - to avoid having conversations with creepers on the bus/to keep abreast of the important issues, such as what people in silver lake are listening to/buying
• cigarettes - I know, I know, not so hot but I was stressed, and it's a good way to excuse yourself from an awkward convo
• sunglasses - so that you can at least pretend you're just out for an early morning stroll, and not on your way home from the night before
• a can of diet rockstar - because it's really hard to appear classy when you're drooling in your sleep on the bus
  

I'm not mad at you, I'm just really hungover

Even though I was nursing a hangover the size of Texas, I had shit to do, so I put on my sunnies and headed out the door, downing my second diet Rockstar in as many hours. I escaped in just under 2.5 hours and called The Engineer to see if I had left my green We hoodie at his place on Monday, he was home, so told him I was coming over to get it, without asking to see if he was busy.

We chatted briefly, our first face-to-face encounter since Monday and he casually asked if I had been crying (read: You look like shit). I said no, that I was just really hungover, then he asked what I was doing later, I made up some excuse that I was actually just there because I was on my way to Wendy's and I figured since I was in the neighbourhood, I'd drop in. It was nothing personal, but I was pretty cranky so I was just trying to get out of there as quickly as possible.

He offered to walk with me to Wendy's, and the whole time we chatted awkwardly about everything but The Big Fight. He apologized in a very roundabout way, somehow failing to really take any blame for the events of that morning.

As I was leaving he grabbed my hand and asked me to call him later.

I walked to the LRT station and headed home and tried not to think about what had just happened.

Dispatches from the front lines of debauchery (part 2)

So last time I covered Friday night and today I'll be covering Wednesday/Saturday nights.

Wednesday:

I don't know why but we thought it would be a good idea to attend wing night at our neighborhood pub especially with early morning classes and the like the next day, but all the cute boys we hang out would be there, and we had thoughts of booty calls dancing in our pretty little heads.

Basically the exact same as the Saturday and Monday nights previous except far more intoxicated.

Boys we barely even knew were offering to buy us shots and pitchers all night long and we were in full-tilt flirt mode. We were the centers of attention and loving every minute of it - and then somewhere along the way it all went horribly awry.

Sometime over the course of our walk home The Christitute and I got into a huge fight, I'm talking screaming at each other at the top of our lungs in a downpour-type blowout and neither of us can figure out exactly what it is that the other was mad about.

I have never been so hungover the next day, ever. Not even that one time I got alcohol poisoning in first year.

Saturday:

We had our biggest rush event and it's an all day thing with our fraternity big brothers. We've always had a massive turnout and it ends up morphing into a big house party afterwards. I bailed out pretty early because TC had upbraided me rather severely (and rightly so, I might add) earlier in the day and I was in a foul mood, and I had a work-related party to attend on the other side of the city. TC and I had kissed and made up so I managed to convince her to join me - and she's met my coworkers before so I wouldn't have to entertain her if I got really drunk.

The party was at a bar that the owner of my skate shop owns so we got free drink tickets galore when we got there and some of the boys who work at the urban wear store down the hall bought me a round of drinks.

We decided to leave pretty early because the cab ride home would have been in the $30 range and we tried to catch the last bus, but we had missed it. TC got the brilliant idea of calling her semi-regular make out partner for a ride home and we were golden. We got home and our house party was winding down but I ran into a really cute British boy (The Brit) and I brazenly asked him if he wanted to make out because the other guy who was chatting me up was painfully boring.

I grabbed his hand and we retired to my room, but I had to go to the washroom, and as I exited my room, one of the girls in my sorority confronted me in the hall and hotly spat "You know he has a girlfriend right?"

I didn't, but at that point I didn't care and snapped back "So? I don't know her. Besides, we're just making out and that's not my problem anyways" and closed the bathroom door in her face.

Classy, I know.

We made out for at least an hour and then I got bored/annoyed and kicked him out of my room. Apparently as he left one of the girls that we're trying to recruit (and who had been trying to get in his pants all night) was pretty miffed and called out to him "[The Brit], did you have a good time?" as he was leaving my room. He scowled at her and left.

I cleaned myself up a little and rejoined the girls in the living room to dish, while TC waited for her manfriend to come over.

I almost overslept for work the next day.

posted by team gingerbread at 11:21 AM 4 comments links to this post
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Dispatches from the front lines of debauchery (part 1)
Friday:

OK, so I should preface this post with the fact that I've only been partying this hard because it's recruitment and there's really never a time when you can't go out and be gregarious if you're trying to recruit new members to join your ranks.

Anytime they want to go out, you have to be there to join them/hold their hair back when they puke no matter how big of a tool they appear to be because, you never know, they might have a friend/sister/roommate who's perfect for the sorority, so you can't afford to alienate anyone.

We had 2 parties to go to last night, the KA Martini party and the DKE punch tasting. The Martini party was fun, tons of cute boys, but The Christitute (TC), The Roadtrip Queen (TRQ) and Manitoba spent forever at the mall and didn't get home until very late so we got a late headstart and only ended up being able to stay at their party for 30 minutes.

The plan had been to hit up the punch tasting for however long it took us to get drunk off the free booze and meet up with Ah-bby on Whyte. Except we got sidetracked into going to Hudson's on Campus to meet up with the Phi Delts with a bunch of rushes in tow. The second we got there one of the rushes turned to me and commented how a certain gentleman that TC is somewhat enamoured with was looking pretty cute and I quietly told her that he was off-limits.

She's a pretty savvy chick so she picked up what I was putting down, and backed off. I mean, it wouldn't occur to most rushes to ask for background info about guys before going after them so I was even more stoked to offer her a bid. I'm definitely not the type to blackball a rush just because she was hitting on my man (but that's probably only because I'm very, very single right now - cause normally I'm pretty jealous). But it has happened before that we lost some rushes because of dalliances with members' boys.

I refused to tell exactly who he was taken by, because it's still kind hush-hush, but she was able to guess. We partied with the boys for a while, while I flirted with Tom in order to get free booze and we migrated upstairs from the basement to close down the bar. As we were leaving TC (who had been playing hard to get all night, much to my chagrin because I hate that tactic) finally decided to grow some balls and make a move.

"Um, do you mind if I don't come home with you?" she asked quietly.

"No, no. By all means. Do your thing"

"OK, well...bye. Seriously, leave now!"

"Uh, sure. Have a good night I guess" I replied.

She kept me up to date with status reports via text, but I fell asleep before I got the last one. Apparently they were hanging out at his frat house and she was annoyed that she couldn't pull him away discreetly.

After I woke up this morning I , being the classy lady that I am, texted her back "Haha! You're so not sleeping alone right now are you?" While chuckling to myself about how immature I was being.

On a scale of one to ten, the KA part was a 7 (but only because it was unbelievably hot in there) and the DKE party was a 4. The afterparty at Hudson's was an 8 (less, but not completely devoid of free booze, but more undivided male attention)

Kitchen Party

Signs you drink too much: The new guy who works at the liquor store by your house goes to ID you on a Friday night, and the guy who's worked there since it opened 2 years ago, rushes over and tells him "It's ok, [I'm] a regular"

The Christitute lost her driver's licence last Sunday so her incessant going out has been temporarily curtailed rather fortuitously.

I got home last night, ready to do laundry and other exciting stuff that single college-aged gals do on a Friday night, and as I was heading to the grocery store, stopped by my roommate's (The Roadtrip Queen) room. Turns out our big brother fraternity was hosting a free kegger at their annex house.

There's really no better offer than being able to hang out with good friends and with beer flowing freely. TC was closing but I let her know the details, and since she can't go out until she has new ID, she was down for that. I purchased some booze for a little alley pre-gaming action, and we eventually sauntered in at around midnight, as the cops were breaking up the party (noise copmplaints).

We ended up staying pretty late, and headed home as the last of the party goers said their goodbyes. I had the munchies so we stopped by a convenience store where I purchased honey roasted cashews - kida strange since I despise honey and a diet Rockstar - also weird becasue I was planning on heading straight to bed when I got home.

Now it's midday on Saturday and I'm still in my pajamas, gatorade in hand, at home, where I fully intend to remain for the remainder of my day off.

[Un]dress code in effect

Against all better judgement, I decided to cap off my excruciatingly long day at work on Sunday with a night out on the town, because Leah was back from her week-long sojourn to Seattle.

Having been at least a couple weeks since we'd last hit up industry night at Hudson's on Whyte, I jumped at the chance to go out, so we got all gussied up in our finest casual attire and pregamed our faces off.

By the time we were suitably soused it was well after midnight, and I could tell it was going to be a good night. Showtime brought along a marker to tag stuff and we were off and running - or cartwheeling as the case may have been.

By the time we rolled up at the bar it was a quarter past 1 in the morning (meaning that I had to be up in six hours for work the next day) but no matter. We dove in an hit up the dance floor, but before I could even get there I was accosted by some random guy.

I was in my fun-drunk stage but his face totally didn't register, but he certainly knew who I was. Before I could focus my eyes I boldly just asked "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"It's me Arran (like Aaron, but spelled differently)"

"Oh...you look so different" was my slurred reply, but at least it was true. He normally has crazy done up hair and it was surprisingly tame on Sunday.

Long story short, we talked for a while, then we danced with the girls on the floor and he invited us to go party at his place (out of town) for the long-weekend.

We didn't quite close down the bar, but we left after last call and stopped by the Pita Pit on the way home to satiate our drnken munchies - worst.pita.ever. btw but I was so hungry that I didn't really care.

The we went on a bit of a destructive rampage and Leah and I helped The Christitute lift some signage from a lame bar along the way. TC had ripped off the "dress code in effect" sign on the way to the bar and had stashed it in the alley for pickup at a later date/time, and then we decided to go full force and remove the rest of the signage, including one that read "regular entrance" (it seemed like a good idea at the time).

I asked TC what she was going to do with the signs after she got them home, and she said she'd put them in her room/on her door, when I came up with the brills alcohol-influenced idea that she should add the letters 'u' and 'n' before the dress code statement and hang the sign on her door.

We also managed to reclaim a bench that had been set aside by the constuction crews in our neighbourhood - it's a really cute wrought iron and wood number too, but by them it was quickly approaching 3:30 and it dawned on me that the sun would soon be rising, and that I should head to bed.

Fast forward to 7 am, and I wake up alone and cold and still kinda drunk, roll out of bed put on the same clothes that I'd worn to the bar, and begin to make the stongest coffee imaginable to go along with my handful of regular chips from the night before.

I was crazy tired, but didn't want to keep sleeping for fear of being ridiculously late for work so I sat on the couch in my sunglasses and watched The Today Show whilst drifting in and out of a fitful sleep.

The bus ride to work was kinda brutal - I gagged a little because I was stuck sitting sideways, and that normally makes me feel ill.

I got to work, unscathed and sobered up, for the most part, and my co-worker's mom picked me up some McDonald's brekkie for the second day in a row - sweet, because it was free but not so hot, because it made me feel worse.

The day at work was pretty uneventful, except that two of the girls I work with gave their notice today, meaning that in 2 weeks our store will only employ 3 people (one of whom will be in Toronto with her boyfriend for half of July/August)

I was so tired at work that I was convinced I would just get home and roll into bed, but no dice. I'm wide awake and bored, so I'm going to hop into the shower and maybe take Chase up on his previous offer of pharmaceuticals

...and these are the days of our lives

The cure for hangovers isn't high-maintenance customers

So Wednesday night's excursion to the strippers was fairly uneventful except that both The Christitute and I got really, really smashed and I realized what a bad decision that was on the way to/during my shift at work yesterday.

The next day [at work] dragged on, and I was so incredibly lethargic that it felt like I had been there for 15 hours when it was only really 8, nice.

We were by far the rowdiest group of girls there, and we spent the entire night cheering (making asses of ourselves) for Moniq'ua (this girl that TC and I met in the bathroom) who was competing in the Erotic Water Wrestling contest - the only requirements seeming to be how hard you could grind your crotch into the other contestants face whilst simulating sex in any way you could.

We closed down the bar, some randoms sent over drinks for us, which was pretty sweet, and TC paid for everything else, insisting that it was her treat.

-----

On the job front, I've finished my first round of interviews for that Apple job, and I've got my second one today, so if all goes well, I'll be rocking a new iPod by the beginning of the school year.

I'm not really excited to be working yet another job, but I really have a ton of stuff I need to buy by the end of the summer and my promo jobs pay almost double what my regualr jobs do, so it's a no-brainer.

It was difficult customer day yesterday at the skate shop as each interaction with customers made me increasingly irate/mean - so much so that when I was leaving for my break and this kid tumbled down the stairs, I laughed a little a lot (he wasn't hurt though, it was just an awkward slow-motion type fall).

Maybe I don't shop enough, but I've never been in a store (shoe or otherwise) where I just grabbed the display models off the wall and tried to cram my foot into it - if you want to try it on, I can get you a pair.

People just don't seem to realize that those shoes are part of a pair of shoes that will eventually be sold. Display models are normally in the size 6-7 range so that they fit on the pegs (and shoes just look cuter when they are smaller).

Nor is it ever acceptable to just go around opening boxes or picking through boxes that we're unpacking.

We unpack stuff in the store because we have nowhere else to do it, but most of the stuff we unpack/tag isn't for our store, and just gets shipped out when we're done. So please, stop rifling though the boxes.

Also, if I'm trying to tell you that a particular brand of shoes fits small, it's not because I care (although I do), but rather that I don't feel like lacing up a pair of shoes that I know won't fit/having to get another pair with a ladder. Please take my word on it, I don't come to your work and tell you how to do your job.

By far my favourite boneheaded question is the "Do you have this in another colour?"

Uh, do you see it on the wall in a different colour, that's all we have. Why would we have a private cache of shoes in the back that no one could see - except on demand.

Does that even make sense to you?

"I'm so glad you asked, let me check!" (gingerbread walks away and never comes back)

I could maybe understand if it was clothing, because often (more so in shirts and sometimes skate decks) brands like RVCA will only send us certain colours in one size, so if we sell it, we might have a couple more in the back, but because it's a small store most of our stock is in plain sight.

Thank you for shopping in my store.

Best. Weekend. Ever.

The Players: Gingerbread, The Christitute, Ah-bby, and Angela

Friday Night

We convinced the Christitute that she didn't want to go to a club, and that she'd actually much rather hit up every dive bar in the neighbourhood in search of a good time.

The result:

We ended up drinking for free, even though the beer tasted like it had been mixed with red wine - not kidding

Saturday (aka. Pubcrawl Day)

We started drinking at around 10 am, because the pubcrawl started at 12 noon

realize that we need to eat beforehand...and that makeup should probably be applied before heavy drinking commences

11 am: Drinking games and mad preparations for the bar (i.e. purse mickeys)

12 pm: Just pull up to the bar, make sure that the bar isn't doing bag checks, but make alternate arrangements to drink in the alley beside Hooter's if bag checks are in order

12:01 pm: It is ascertained that no bag checks are being conducted

2 pm: Finish up at the first bar, the first of three purse mickeys has been consumed in the span of an hour and a half. Discover that we've picked the bus with the most boring bus captain ever, Randy, the wonder bitch. Resort to peeing in an alley, to avoid a long line at the bar, nearly pee all over my footwear, and almost go to the wrong bar

3 pm: At the second bar, about halfway through the second purse mickey, start drinking water to avoid puking in a trash can/on the bus

4 pm: Leaving the second bar, elect to take a different bus, find ourselves surrounded by cute boys who enjoy mooning families with small children and other tour buses

5 pm: At the third bar, everything is a bit hazy, but drinks are being bought for us, we've peed in an alley once again, and hidden alcohol in that same alley

6 pm: On our way to the fourth, and last, bar with our new friends (Chad, Adam and the rest of their crew) in tow. The Christitute has staked her claim on Chad, and spends the entire bus ride molesting his neck, and coaxing his hand further up her thigh

7 pm: Angela and I realize that we're famished and head over to McDonald's for some food, not realizing that there is no re-entry to the bar, we eat like the ravenous drunks that we are. Ah-bby and TC are still at the bar with their respective gentlemen friends

8 pm: I break my no texting rule (which really only applies when I'm sober it seems) and let TC know where we are

8:01 pm: TC writes back, and we try to figure out when/where to meet

8:10 pm: Still no response from TC, Angela and I assume that means she's hooking up in a back alley behind the bar, turns out, we're not too far off

8:15 pm: I call TC and she gives me a very vague description about her whereabouts, which turns out to be completely false

8:20 pm: We're following her directions that she's directly right of the bar, and suspect that she's drunk and has no clue where she is, we stop passersby, to ask for proper directions

8:25 pm: We get to the pet store (who takes a makeout partner there anyways?) and they are nowhere to be found

8:27 pm: We call TC again, she tells us that she's across the street from the McDonald's at some motel, we envision stained sheets and rooms that rent by the hour

8:30 pm: Wrong directions again, she's actually at an inn across the way from an A&W, and by at an inn, we mean she's making out with a guy in the parking lot of said inn, class act all the way!

8:45 pm: After giving them more time alone, we decide it would be funnier (it was) if we took pictures of their liaison, and along the way discover that this inn also has a pool

9 pm: Still chilling on the pool deck, decide to head to the bar next door

10 pm: Leave the bar next door, TC and Chad want more time alone/food at Denny's. Angela and I head home

10:05 pm: We realize we don't know TC's address, or have keys to get into her house, and have to call her

10:10 pm: We finally get in touch with her (we later find out her hands/mouth were occupied, hence the delayed response) and we find out she didn't go to the Denny's that was about a $5 cab ride from where we were, but to the one that's a $30 cab ride away, but I didn't really care because TC had given me a $20 bill earlier and that paid for most of the fare.

10:30 pm: Show up at Denny's, order the greasiest sandwich possible, and Chad picks up the tab, after being reamed out by TC on numerous occasions

11:30 pm Ah-bby reappears, claims to have been dancing at the bar the whole time, which we loosely interpret as making out in a bathroom stall for hours

12 am: Ah-bby and Adam hit up the bar in the Radisson, and tell us to come join them when we're finished eating, the server also comes over and tells TC to refrain from cursing because 'It's a family restaurant and there are kids around", which inspires a flurry of curse words in response

12:30 am: Heading over to The Radisson, we discover what appears to be an abandoned camper van, and Chad gets in and pretends to drive it, when out of nowhere a voice booms from the back of the truck to "Get the fuck out!", we do as we're told, laughing so hard that we almost fall over while running.

12:35 am: Chad is accosted by a visibly intoxicated woman who begs him to make out with her, she finally just grabs him and starts working her magic. He pulls away, and we convince the woman to do it again because we want to get it on tape. The moment is recorded for posterity and because its hilarious. The woman also give TC a 3 lb bag of coleslaw, which we still have.

12:40 am: We join Ah-bby and Adam at the Radisson Hotel bar, and hang out in the beer tents until almost last call. TC and Chad sneak off for some more alone time, and his brother plies us with more drinks

1:30 am: TC returns and we all head inside. She and Ah-bby dance the rest of the night away while Angela and I work on our drinks

2 am: Angela and I decide to call it a night, after I tried to convince TC to bring the guys home with us to her Mom's house.

2:30 am: Arrive home at TC's Mom's house to find her mother still awake, and quickly realize that my idea's aren't always so brilliant, and silently vow to thank TC for resisting my suggestions

2:31 am: Make up elaborate lie about why TC isn't with us, who she's with and when she's coming home

2:37 am: Feel incredibly guilty for lying to TC's Mom, but am more overcome by my tiredness and head upstairs, so that I can blog the night's happenings

2:44 am: Get a call from TC, fill her in on the lies I told her mother. Assure her that we did have a really good time, wash my face, brush my teeth and go to bed.

3:17 am: Finally get to bed after proofing blog post, and settle in, only to realize that some douchebag (Ah-bby TC) left her wet towel on the bed, and now I'm forced to sleep in the wet spot.

3:18 am: Realize that the bed I'm sleeping on tonight is a waterbed. Just a regular bed - I think I just have the spins. Overcome by waves of nausea nonetheless.

An ode to Gatorade (and other thirst quenching/electrolyte replacing beverages)

I used to be fun

I used to go out a lot (I'm talking regularly pulling 10-day benders - during midterm week no less)

I subsequently used to drink a lot (and never get hangovers!)

Not so much anymore.

Homeless people have dietary concerns too

I forgot about this one exchange I had with a homeless man yesterday.

My supervisor for the promotion that I'm doing was micromanaging me so to spite her I gave samples exclusively to the homeless for a good half hour. I approached this one homeless guy and offered him a chocolate, he took it.

Two seconds later he's tapping me on the shoulder.

Hobo: What's in this?
Gingerbread: It'sa hazelnut truffle
Hobo: I can't eat this, I'm allergic to nuts
Gingerbread: (at a loss for words)

It's just funny, it never occured to me that he might have food allergies.

On the topic of nuts, I hate peanuts. I know that they are legumes, but I hate them nonetheless. I was pretty hungover on Thursday morning, so much so that I didn't go to class because I didn't want to risk throwing up along the way. I was sitting in the living room watching the View and Pancake decides that today is the day she's going to make peanut butter cookies.

Boo!

When I say I hate peanut butter, I actually mean I abhor peanuts and peanut products; always have for some reason. When I was a kid, I would refuse to ride in a car with someone who had just eaten peanut butter. To me, the smell of peanut butter is akin to the smell of vomit. I had to clean a peanut butter coated bowl the other day and I nearly threw up about four times.

Needless to say, the overpowering smell of peanut butter cookies combined with my hungover state resulted in me having to run to the bathroom, except that I forgot that the upstairs bathroom was still out of order. Seriously, how long does it take to fix things around here? I made it down to the downstairs bathroom with seconds to spare...and proceeded to miss the toilet entirely and puke all over the floor.

Alcohol: 1

Gingerbread: 0

I hate the taste of peanut butter too!

More Like Extra--Whipped--Cream

Woman: We'll have the perfectly peanut butter sundae.

Store girl: Okay, sure.

Man: Come on, you know I fucking hate the taste of peanut butter!

Woman: Are you kidding me? I ate your jizz just a couple of hours ago, I think you eating the ice cream I want would be a decent fucking compromise!

Store girl: ...Um...Yeah, so...I'm taking that as extra peanut butter.

--Dylan's Candy Bar, 3rd Avenue

courtesy of Overheard in New York

peace out, team gingerbread

[Ed.] my purse is still littered with shards of glass and my Napoleon Dynamite figurine is still in its original box.