From "Dying-of-Starvation Diva" to a Living Blonde Version of Rodin's "the Thinker" in a matter of hours, plus today's absurdity....

***Warning. This is going to be long as a mo-fo, but probably worth the read.... Maybe you should break it up into sessions?****

Really life? Why do you play such games? I mean, seriously. The last 36ish hours have been completely absurd.

We'll start out with a bit of awesomeness. My good friend LL surprised me by telling me that she was going to pick me up yesterday (Monday) at 7, and that I should wear my new dress. I had no idea what to expect, apart from amazingness.

So I get ready, and LL comes and picks up D and I. There is a "Happy Graduation" balloon in the car that actually says "ConGRADulations" on it. LL was right. This did piss me off, as it did her. She and I share a love for correct grammar, and have similar pet peeves of the grammatical nature. It was still funny, though. In addition to my adorable and wonderful roommate, there was a cake in the backseat for the occasion as well, and a couple awesome presents, too!

So we're celebrating my graduation, (yes, I graduated in 2005), and she informs me that she is taking me to Coquette Cafe, which is a nice French restaurant in the third ward. Awesome.

We pull up to the curb, and I open the door. As "luck" would have it, we are parked next to a large sewer grate. My new dress is made of silk (fake silk, I think, actually). I start to move to stand, and of course, my keys sliiiiiiiiiiiiiide right off my dress, and onto the sewer grate, where they hesitate momentarily and then fall to their death in the sewer of Milwaukee.

Brut.

This is especially brut since I have electronic keys to my apartment building which I had to pay a deposit of something like three hundred and seventy nine thousand dollars to secure. Fan-flipping-tastic.

It's cool though.... I am trying not to be too upset, although I was halfway into panic mode, since I do not have a real, steady job this summer.... Did I already ask y'all if you have any odd side jobs for me to do? Haha. Anyway, it's not too hard to keep happy, though, because I am just basking in the glory of thinking how awesome LL and Danielle are for doing such things for me with the celebration and what-not. Plus, I am usually pretty laid back and hard to upset, and I didn't think the situation was over.

We get inside and the server came over and introduced herself.

So I says to her, I says (haha, that's a ridiculous way to tell a story, but I like it!) "Let's just say, hypothetically, that you knew someone who dropped her keys into the sewer. What would you do? And do you think this friend would get her keys back?"

She answered without cracking a smile that she would call the department of public works, but that she would guess that her keys were probably "toast."

Brut.

Anyway, we get our meals..... Mmmm.... I am enjoying a nice glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, which (for the record) is my favorite type of wine, and eating some delicious Coq au Vin. Yummy!

There was a group of really adorable old people at the table next to us, including (but not limited to) a man wearing a blue and white striped (think tiny stripes, like a railroad conductor's uniform, only a lighter blue) sport coat and red bowtie. I don't really know why I am including the detail about the old people, but I enjoyed them and listening to the parts of their conversations when they weren't talking about who's all recently died.

Another fun detail is that in the beginning of dinner, I looked out the window to see a freaking woman dressed as a bumble bee standing on the street.... It made more sense, although only a little more sense, when we noted that the Fred Astaire Dance Studio was right there, and that she was with them.... There were all types of characters dancing around in there, such as supergirl, pippy longstocking, and a man with a turtle shell. I have no idea why they were dressed in such a "fashion," but they seemed like they were having a lot of fun. They also seemed like they were doing completely different dances to completely different songs all in one large room, but hey, you do what you gotta do, I guess!

Dinner's over, and we go back to our apartment. We decide we are going to go out, and the place to apparently go on Monday's in Milwaukee is Rain. Rain is a club, which I've been to once with Troy (who is going to get his own special blog entry sometime soon, because he is absurd and has caused some absurdity in my life), and it was ridiculous. It opens at nine, which was about what time we were done with dinner, but we didn't exactly want to be the first people in the place, because that is just awkward in a nightclub. We decide to play a game called "What the Fuck?" which Danielle got me for a birthday present or some other present, and that entertained us for quite some time. Meanwhile, a torrential downpour commences outside, and I keep imagining the sewers filling higher and higher with rainwater, and my keys floating down to Chicago or something heinous like that.

We decide once we've grown tired of "What the Fuck?" that we are going to just call it a night, because there is a Biblical rainstorm taking place outside, Danielle has a lot of work to do, LL has summer school in the morning, and well.... We are just not that hardcore or pumped about Rain.

So I wrote last night's blog, and went to bed.

Got up in the morning at the crack of ten am, and called the department of public works. They told me that some sewer magicians would meet me at the sewer to see about getting my keys out of the drain. Wow! I didn't think that such a thing was even a possibility.

So Danielle gives me my extra key to my car and the remote for our parking gate, and I venture back to the scene of the incident. The men come, and determine that I will be considered an extremely lucky woman if my keys are there after the rainstorm last night, but that we'll give it a whirl. They remove the grate and get a big, apparently powerful, magnet on a rope and swing it around down in the drain....

We make small talk for a bit whilst they "fish" for my keys. They are incredibly nice gentlemen. Then, all of the sudden..... Something comes up.

The man says "Did you happen to also lose altoids?"

Damn. Nope! And if I did, and they were in the sewer, I don't think I'd really like them!

More small talk.

JACKPOT! My keys! The men basically tell me that I am the luckiest person in the United States. We'll see.... If I am truly the the luckiest person in the United States, the electronic keys will work. I'm not quite ready to try them yet, due to the fact that my keys are now wrapped in a napkin, and sitting inside my cup from my McDonald's that I ordered the other day.

But when I get home, I discover that all of my keys work, and I feel awesome. Exceptionally amazing.

So then I work out and eat, and post workout and meal, my phone rings. It's an "847" number, which means Chicago. I secretly hope it is my agent at Ford calling with work for me, but when I google the number, I get nothing. I wait a bit, and there is a message.

The message is to the effect of the caller being some dude named Alfredo, who got my number from one of our "mutual friends" at the WAC (Meams used to work there, and many of my friends do work out there, so it could be several different people, but none of whom I would expect to give my number out to randoms). He apparently also does some modeling on the side, and said that our "mutual friend" sent me a picture of him (I had not received any pictures of anyone). I was very confused. I mulled it over for a bit, called Meams, and went off to donate blood.

Now, this is always an ordeal for various reasons, but nothing big (unless you're talking height). Today was no exception. The last time I tried to donate, at the blood drive, they didn't accept me because my iron was too low. This time, it was higher than it had ever been, which I considered a personal success, because I had obviously been working to raise it by eating foods high in iron, so that I could successfully "give life" again. Go me!

So the technician is talking about how I have wonderful veins, and all of the sudden she's like, wow, they're really good, you just sprayed me!

I look, and sure enough (or sho' 'nuff, if you'd rather), there is blood all over the arm of the chair, and her glove. Brut.

The rest of the donation goes off without issue, and she informs me that it's brat day (only in Wisconsin, I am sure) and that all people who donate blood on Tuesdays get brats. She asks if I would like one, and I decline, since I had eaten just before I arrived, and because the blood center always has Pain Chocolat, which was one of my favorite things about Paris and Toulouse. I get over to the food area, and there is no pain chocolat, so I tell her I will have a brat instead. And then she asks if I want any chips, and she gives me cheetos, and a diet coke.

I asked her if she could give me information on how to volunteer there. I figure that since I don't have a summer job, maybe I could save a few lives by going to the blood center and calling people who haven't been there in awhile and asking them to donate blood or something. May as well do something good, I figure!

She's looking around for the business card of the volunteer coordinator, when I start to feel a little iffy.

She comes back with some info for me, and once she looks at me, she says "Are you feeling ok?"

I respond, "Well, I am feeling a little iffy."

She is like "Just sit tight, I'll be right back."

She goes away for a second and comes back with a wheelchair.

I'm thinking to myself, "Really lady? Are you kidding me? That seems like a little much." But I just get into the chair. I figured that laying down sounded glorious, and if she wanted to push me over to the recliney things (yeah, I made up that word, deal with it), that's fine. I am sure I could walk, but oh well.

Then I start feeling REALLY iffy, once I've been in the chair about five minutes (which is probably really only thirty seconds, because I can't think of a logical reason why they'd keep me in the chair and not moving for that long instead of getting me into the recliney thingy). They push me over to the bed, and the proverbial shit really starts to hit the equally proverbial fan. The nices ladies tell me to put my head down, and I bend at the neck to do so.... They tell me to bend it further down, and I comply.

Then they tell me to get into the recliney thing, and I do. I am feeling better already. They ask me if I am hot or cold, and I tell them hot. I am pretty much sweating profusely. (note: I just accidentally typed "swearing profusely" instead of "sweating profusely." Isn't it amazing how one little letter can change the ENTIRE tone of the story? Haha). They give me a couple ice packs, and I close my eyes, which they tell me not to do. We just chill out (ha) and I continue to feel better, and drink my soda.

Turns out, that I did not go from bending down and then straight into the recliney thing. I was passed out for about a minute and a half, they told me. News to me. There's one minute and a half of my life I'll never get back - haha. I was also informed that I turned some bizarre shade of green that matched my shirt (which was some mix of olive and lime, kinda like split pea baby food, or that stuff that Linda Blair vomits in the Exorcist). I pretty much just sat around until I felt better, and went and ate my brat (after I assured them that I had eaten several full meals before I even came in) and a pain chocolat they found for me (in talking about my job, we got to talking about Paris, and of course then I started in on food), and I went home.

I then texted all of my friends who I know work out at the WAC and ask if the name "Alfredo" means anything to them. Apparently, to them, it means white sauce. Meams calls, and we discuss. I tell her that I knew a Fredo in highschool, but he wouldn't have said all those shenanigans in the message about mutual friends and so on. I text this guy, and ask who our mutual friend is. He writes back apologizing for his boldness in calling me and so on, and at the end of the message says "Yes Al." I figured he was signing the text, and that he went by "Al" for short (which would be lame). I was getting pretty annoyed at this point, and Zak Attack (who works out at the WAC and assures me that he would never give my phone number to a random) tells me that he thinks he sounds like "a weirdo pervboy." I tell him that I agree, and send Alfredo another text to ask him again who our mutual friend is.

He writes back "Milwaukee Al" and also asks if he can call me to explain. Well, yes. Please fricking do. I need to know what in hell is going on!

Remember back a couple months when I went to the Info Launch party, and met that guy who promised me modeling work, but ended up really creeping me out?

Milwaukee Al.

So Alfredo and I end up talking awhile, and he actually seems like a decent character. We also agree that this Al character is not right (in the head, and in the principal) for doing this, and just based upon having met him. Bam!

So today in a nutshell involved me retrieving my keys, which still work, from the sewer, then going to a Math Assessment Coordinator's meeting, then hearing from Alfredo - who is an unidentified random, then I spray blood all over the blood center (a bit of a stretch - I guess that's me using artistic license), and then I pass out, and then I spend an inordinate amount of time on the phone with this Alfredo stranger.

That's just me. That is just my life. Just L-I-V-I-N'.

And that's not even what I had intended to blog about. How absurd is that?!

Ok.... The part that I was intending to blog about begins at a shoot.... But before we get to that, I want to throw in a couple pictures.

The first one is by Norris Carden. I am in a wedding dress in a lake! How cool is that? That was a crazy shoot. It felt so weird to wear that into the lake! And when I got out, the dress weighed probably approximately the same amount as I do. But we got a great shot of the sunset, don't you think?



Ok, the next five are what I am pretty sure are going to be my new Ford comp card. Thefirst one will likely be my front/main image, and the other four will be on the back. Whatcha think?

Ok. Goodness! It's time for the actual frickin' story!

As you know, one of my best friends, Tia, is a lingerie designer, and an amazing one at that. She had recently decided to enter a design contest, the winner of which would get to have a fashion show in Bryant Park in NYC during fashion week. Apparently, she needs two full-length images, one front, and one back, of two different outfits. So she makes a few outfits, and calls me up. Of course I would do anything for Tia, so I'm in. She then calls Lawrence, who is also awesome and one of my best friends (and an amazing photographer to boot). He's in as well. Sweet!

As I mentioned, I am fortunate enough to call each of these amazing people dear friends. I would trust either of them with my life, and feel completely comfortable around them. I mean, we've driven across the country to NYC in a pick-up truck and experienced many many absurdities together. Simply put, we are close friends who make a great team, whether it is for a photoshoot, or something that is supposed to be simpler, like negotiating a sub with an appropriate amount of mustard in a truck stop somewhere in Pennsylvania.

Anyway, due to the caliber of both Tia and Lawrence, both professionally and personally, I know that when I work with either of them, the result will be outstanding. When I work with them both, I know it will photographic platinum (my equivalent of the superlative "comedic gold").

So I am pretty excited, and I drive down to Lawrence's studio on Michigan Avenue in Chicago. I park and he meets me outside, and we sit around and talk for awhile, because Tia ran into a traffic situation and is running a little late. I had eaten before I left, but that had been at about 11 am.

Tia arrives, and there is all kinds of setting up that needs to be done.... Lawrence needs to set up the lighting and backdrop. Tia needs to steam garments. I need to do my hair and makeup in a way that appropriately complements the garments, but does not detract or distract from them.

Simply put, there is much to be done, and it takes awhile.

We finally get all set, and get me dressed, and I am starting to feel quite hungry. I mention this, but try to shoot anyway. It had only been, at this point, about 4 or 5 hours since my last meal, and I should've been fine. I wasn't.

I was feeling.... A little bit "off my game," if you will (and I know you will! If you won't, then don't read my blog! I didn't beg you to come to this site and read it or anything. You could be doing anything else you want to! Wow. That was chapter 54, and it is entitled "Attitude." {if you get that allusion, you get major cool points. And yes, I am using brackets!}). To give an example, for those who know me, of how off my game I was.... I am kinda reknowned for knowing a lot of songs, and a lot of lyrics to such songs. This is not genre or time period specific. It is pretty intense, I am told. Anyway, in the sitting around period, before Tia had even arrived, a song came on the radio, and Lawrence asked me to identify the artist. I couldn't! He said "Wow, I am pretty sure the apocalypse is coming!" Brut.

My posing was a little stiff, to say the least.

I kept mentioning that I was very hungry. I was trying to be polite but not a pain. I was in a situation where I couldn't advocate for myself very well, because I wasn't familiar with the area, and didn't know where I could find food that I would not be afraid to eat (Lawrence had previously told me interesting anecdotes about the nearby Burger King). All I could really do was make my hunger known.

Lawrence is doing routine lighting checks, and making adjustments, and there is another model friend of his, who I had met once and around whom I didn't feel especially comfortable, which also increased my effort to be polite in saying I was hungry.

I kept kinda making jokes, but I was getting more and more on edge. Crabby. I just wanted some food. I was starting to feel a bit weak at this point.

So I made more jokes about being hungry, like saying I'd go on strike soon if they didn't feed the model, or how I'd walk there in the lingerie, and so on.

Food still doesn't seem to be on the horizon. Brut.

So I start to get a little angry. My posing gets even worse, even more stiff. Lawrence and Tia comment on this.

Then I am seriously angry, and suddenly very weak (it's harder than you imagine to stand around under lights and hold poses on an empty stomach), so I just flip out like I never had before.

I say, almost with tears in my eyes, "If it doesn't seem like there is food on the horizon soon, I am going to lay on this set and not move or work until I see some food! I'm shaking!"

Lawrence's and Tia's jaws both just drop open. The other model doesn't even react. They inform me that we will get food right away, and I basically sprint off the set, taking the clothes off as I move, to get to food faster.

We go and get food, and while I'm eating, Lawrence looks at me and says "Wow, you weren't kidding, you really are shaking!"

I could've kicked him in the face. (I love you, Lawrence!)

I informed him, in between bites of cheeseburger that I more or less (more more than less) inhaled while on the phone with John in about two minutes, that I wasn't kidding when I said that.

In their defense, Lawrence and Tia said that they didn't know how hungry I was until my "episode." Apparently, I am better at being polite and hiding my displeasure than I had previously thought. (Yeah, that's right Sarah, I wasn't being amply rude!)

Soon after my little model belly was full, we got back to shooting. The other model left, and so I felt like all was normal with our little modeling family (except Kevin and Jon were missing, but it still felt very cozy!). I was as happy as a bug in a rug (who made that phrase up? How is a bug's happiness measured?), which meant that we were going to get good stuff....

I haven't seen all of them yet, but everything I have seen so far, I more or less have loved. Here's the first one, my favorite....

Now, Lawrence and Tia were talking about how I had gotten in shape (which was mainly to prepare for this shoot, and possibly for a return trip to Austin), and how they could especially tell by looking at my back and legs.... I didn't really understand what they meant by having a fit back. Lawrence was trying to show me on his little viewfinder screen, but it wasn't cutting the mustard (and Lawrence LOVES mustard! :-P). I was "in the land of the clueless" until I saw this picture.... Holla!!!

This is quite the change for me, because usually, I exclusively like pictures that focus on my face, as my body was my biggest point of insecurity. Now, here I am, having all kinds of love for an image that barely has my face in it. Hey-oh! I am proud of how far I've come!

The second one.... Not bad, eh? I am not 100% thrilled with my expression, but I think part of that was because Lawrence kept reminding me to kinda disengage with the camera so that the attention would be on the garment, rather than on me, which was a challenge, but I think I did decently at it!

He did get yelled at, though, by Tia at one point, when she caught him taking beauty shots of me for his own purposes, when she said, "is the garment even in that picture?"

Haha, it wasn't.

Later, Tia and I would wish that he had taken more beauty shots so that I could use them in the good ol' Smashbox contest, but alas, these are great, too!

That is the "inspiration board" she entered into the contest. I just pretty much think it's awesome, and not just because there are little parts of me in the two outfits she made! It's just so cool. We're totally going to NYC for fashion week, because Tia's going to win this. Hey-oh!

We finally wrap up the shoot at about 1030 or 11pm, and sit around a little bit and talk, unwind.

My plan was to meet a friend of mine, Emily, who I worked with at Pedro's in Madison my Senior year, downtown. She was in town visiting from Seattle, and leaving the next day.

Apparently, her brother, Cory, lives down in Wrigleyville, and I was welcome to stay at his place.

After the shoot, I was exhausted, and hadn't heard from Emily. I was considering just going back to Milwaukee. I was secretly hoping that she wouldn't respond to a text, and I could just go home and go to bed, or go home and go out with friends here in the Mil (which is weird, because I am not the biggest fan of this city, as referenced in my last entry!).

No such luck, which actually ended up being lucky (or "Lucke," as it were). She totally responded to my text. Brut. That meant I had to go out.

I asked for directions, and tried to explain where I was on Michigan. This isn't the Magnificent Mile part of Michigan Avenue. It's actually quite the distance away from it!

This was a concept that Cory was having difficulty grasping in his drunkeness. Although he did not give me directions that would work to get me from the studio to the bar, he did succeed in convincing me that he was a moron, which was a conclusion that I jumped to a bit more quickly and easily than I normally would've because I was tired and ready for bed, not so much ready for the bar.

I was incredibly tempted to use the inability to get reasonable directions as an excuse to get out of dodge, but Emily kept telling me that she loved me and how excited she was that I was there, and apparently I am a sucker. So after quite a bit of deliberation, discussion, and asking people for advice, Lawrence mapquests the route from his studio to Cory's apartment. I drive Tia to her car and say goodbye to her, and Lawrence (but in the other order, since that is how it makes sense), and drove to Cory's, parked, and took a cab to John Barleycorn.

My hair is done in the updo you see above. I am wearing a lime green tank, and my ripped up jeans. I swear to goodness that it is entirely coincidential that I wore the jeans in the story from last night, which took place this past Saturday, and in this story, which took place sometime in May or April. I think I only wore them once in between!

I get in line, which is the longest line in the United States, due to the fact that we were in Wrigleyville and the Cubs had played the Socks (or is it Sox? I think it's Sox. I hate baseball.) earlier that evening at Wrigley.

I inform Emily that I had made it safely to the bar and was at the end of the long ass line. She tells me that she is going to see what she can do.

A bit later, I see Emily and who I had to assume was Cory, speaking to a very intense-looking man with a walkie-talkie, and pointing to me. I get the idea from how it's going that this man would like to help out, but couldn't. I just hang out in line and people watch, and try to psych myself out for a night of fun, so that I wouldn't get too sleepy. I was doing a little better, because I had been rocking some good music on my drive from the studio to Lawrence's.

I get kinda into my own little world, when all of the sudden, some guy (who I had seen in the window and had assumed was Cory) appears as if from nowhere, doesn't say a word, grabs my hand and pretty much pulls me into the bar. Holla! I'm in. Awesome. Big hugs from Emily. You know I love hugs! She also warns me that her brother is going to try to rape me, but that I shouldn't worry because he's harmless and has a girlfriend. Whaaaaat? He's going to rape you but don't worry? Oh Emily. Cracks my shit up! I just told her that I am a big girl and that I have been hit on before, so I am sure that I will be ok, as long as he is not ACTUALLY a real rapist, which she says he isn't. She does warn me of these same things a few times, though.

She's a bit tipsy. She informs me that I need to catch up, and we're going to get me drinks. Cool. We go up to the bar. I am still not really clear on the random dude. I tell her about how absurd the directions were, and the introduction finally takes place. I was right - it was Cory. My assumption did not make an ASS out of U or ME. Wahoo!

A couple seconds later, he asks what I would like to drink. I think for a second, and respond with "Captain and Diet." This is of no surprise to you.... But you are not Cory. He took my hand (again, haha) spun me in a circle pirouette style, and got on one knee to propose marriage to me three seconds after our introduction. Seems about right!

While waiting for the bartender to serve Cory, Em and I decide that it would be a spectacular idea to take a picture before we were too drunk and ridiculous. Good call. Here it is!

In taking such a picture, Emily realizes that I apparently have the same camera as Cory, and informs me that it is likely that he is going to want to marry me (really? I don't know what gave her such an idea....) because I drink the drink he has been drinking for years, and we have the same camera. She also mentioned something about me being attractive, but let your eyes look up a little bit. Wanna talk about the pot calling the kettle black? Emily's gorgeous.

We take down some jagerbombs (in an effort to "catch me up" to the group). Talk a little bit. I realize that they are hammered (which explains why Cory seemed like such an idiot on the phone). I am totally sober, but still having lots of fun, which was surprising to me, since I didn't want to go out in the first place!

Then I meet Cory's roommate, Koz, who is apparently some sort of baller (per Emily's statement, as well as future events), and his girlfriend, and this d(o)u"d"(ch)e(bag) (minus the second "d") Paulie, who was kinda creepy and inappropriately wearing white shoes, since it was well before Memorial day. Yes, I try to follow that fashion rule my grandma laid down years ago, especially if it allows me to make fun of somebody. Yes, I am also aware that the amount of time I spend making fun of people might make it impossible for people to call me a nice girl.

Anyway, we decide we want to go upstairs. I had been to that place before, but was completely unaware of how seriously ginormous it was, since the previous time I had been there, I got WAY overserved, and ended up leaving with my shirt being a struggle, and getting in a big fight with my ex, and having Danielle say something about how she didn't have to listen to that shit....

Wow, I am rambling. Anyway, I didn't know there was an upstairs.

Back to the story.

There is a huge line to get upstairs. Brut.

But hey, I said that I was told this guy, Koz, was a baller, right? He went straight to the front of the line, had some words with the man in charge of letting people upstairs, and the next thing I knew, we were single file, on the stairs.

On the way up, I hear a voice (Cory's) behind me, saying, "Oh my God."

I just started cracking up. When we got to the top, he informed me that I shouldn't be showing off the way I was. I told him that I was just walking up the stairs. Apparently, if one does that in the pants I was wearing, that is showing off.

Once we get inside, Koz takes us to the VIP area. And, baller that he is, gets us all in. I think it is actually there where we encounter this Paulie kid. Anyway, here's a picture of all of us. Can you spot the creepy one?

Yep, far left.

Anyway, once we are comfy in VIP, we get more drinks and more shots. I no longer feel sober (most likely because I had once again not eaten in awhile, and didn't eat much as a whole that day). It is at this point that Emily decides that she needs to use the ladies' room.

On the way, I come across a blast from my past, Matt.... He was a good friend of one of my ex's and all of his friends. It was nice to see him, but Em was focused and didn't allow us much time to catch up before we were back on our quest to the bathroom.... She did, however, allow enough time for this picture to be snapped....



So I bid Matt a hurried adieu, and run off to follow Emily, while texting Matt "I'm sorro," which only shows what type of state I was in (besides the obvious, Illinois).

We get over to the women's bathroom, and, of course, the line is a mile long. We decide that we'll try the men's. After much discussion with the bathroom bouncers (There were two. How weird is that?) we learned that we would not be going into the men's bathroom. We did, however, make a deal that we'd get moved to the front of the line of the women's.

We get back over to the women's, and there was no longer a line. Figures.

Em goes to the bathroom, and I buy a hairtie that matched my shirt and had glitter from the bathroom attendant for the low low price of $1. My hair (as you can see above) was taken out of the updo in the bar, and I thought I'd like to pull it back later.

We decide on our way back to the VIP that we should dance some. So we do. Then "Baby Got Back" came on, which is a special one for Em and I. When we worked at Pedro's, we often worked the Karaoke shifts together, and had sang such a song ourselves only a couple years before.

There were weird hos trying to dance on the stage and looking foolish, so we decided to show them up. I think we were successful the entire time we were up there, which was approximately 14 seconds.

After exiting stage left, we went back to the VIP. Emily decided that body shots were in order.

Cory, however, had left. She didn't want him to. She told me to text him and tell him that I would do a body shot with him, and gave me his number. I did such a thing. We waited a little bit, and he wasn't there, so we proceded without him.

It was Emily, Paulie and I. I desperately wanted to avoid this Paulie character, so I volunteered to do my shot off of Emily. Here's a picture of me taking the lime from her mouth, which she would later think was me offering her the lime, but having it backward. Haha!

Emily then did her body shot off of Paulie, and he did his off of me. I was not happy. That picture will remain far from everyone's eyes! Gross.

Moments after these shenanigans were over, Cory literally hopped the fence into the VIP section. He wasn't the happiest person in the United States when he found out that he had just missed the body shots....

....but I don't think he looks too devastated, either.

Now here is where the night gets a little fuzzy.

Somehow, we get separated from Cory, Koz, the girlfriend whose adorable shoes were hurting her poor feet, and Paulie. I was not shedding any tears over that last one.

Then I remember Em and I going downstairs, and talking to a few randoms.

We took some pictures of some tomfoolery, involving me licking her cheek (which I am known to do.... Because sometimes you just gotta lick your friend's cheek), and her showing a bit of cleavage, and us doing our best to make drunken sexy faces, which are really absurd. In one, I look like I am about to bite her face off (or just her cheek). I had those pictures in here, but I don't know what happened to them....

(I put all of the pictures in the blog first, and then as I tell the story, I put the words around them. Helps me to keep an order, and not forget things that were captured on "film.")

Anyway, Emily and I end up leaving the bar by ourselves, which is brut. We're both hammered, and neither of us really knows the way to Cory's. In fact, at this point, Em can't even correctly pronounce the name of his street. In her defense, he does live on a very bizarrely-named street.

These minor details do not, however, dissuade the two of us from trying to walk "home."

At some point during this trek, Emily decides she has to use the restroom.

In a strange turn of events, there aren't really any public restrooms available at 4am in the residential parts of Wrigleyville. How weird is that? Who would've guessed?

This does not make Emily have to relieve herself any less, though, so she decides to go in the street.

While she makes tinkle, she decides to put her purse on top of a car, so she can focus or balance or do whatever she has to do.

Em's doing her business, and I am texting back and forth with Cory. Good thing I had texted him earlier about the body shot, or we would probably not have made it home!

He asks me where we are.

I had no idea.

One would think that someone who was asked where she was and didn't know would respond with something at least quasi-constructive, like "I don't know."

Well, if you thought that, and you were thinking about, me.... Wrong-o, my friends!

My response?

Oh, it's a good one. You ready?

"Fiff."

Whaaaaat?

I mean, I know I say that frequently, but Cory had to have thought that I was just some type of crackhead, and a hypocritical one at that! Only hours before, I had determined incorrectly that he was a moron because he couldn't give reasonable directions, and he asks me where I am, and all I've got is "Fiff?"

Brut.

Fiff.

Anyway, I think at this point we took a cab to Cory's, with his help reminding me the address and such things as that. When we get there, however, we realize that Emily has left her purse on top of whatever car she urinated near, somewhere unknown to us.

She flips out, and rightfully so. Her plane ticket, ID, credit cards, iPod, camera.... All in her purse. Pretty much everything she needs to exist.

I realized that I was pretty useless in the ordeal, since I never had any idea where we were once we left the bar. So I took a seat on the curb.

You know my style. I evidently decided to go to sleep. Apparently, I was posed like Rodin's "the thinker" statue, with my hand folded under my chin. According to Cory, it was pretty humorous, or at least would've been if Emily wasn't crying hysterically.

Brut.

I guess at this point, a couple officers of the law arrived, and walked up to Cory and said "Do you guys know Emily?"

How Emily got to be on a first name basis with this policeman will likely be a mystery for life.

Anyway, as far as Em's concerned, this man is an angel, because in his hand, he carried her purse.

Actually, it is quite possible that this man IS an angel. I mean, how else would he tie her purse to her brother's house? The address wasn't there. It was more or less (more more than less) amazing. A miracle, if you will.

Next thing I know, I am on a two-foot long (ish) loveseat with a towel covering me, fully clothed,

including my heels.

I've felt better. I pretty much sucked at life.

Cory's on the couch, and starts talking to me, and kinda filling me in on the purse story. Actually, I am pretty sure one of the first things he told me was about me responding "Fiff."

Then Emily calls me from Cory's bedroom, only a stone's throw away.

We all rally, and move on with our day, which included me driving back to Wisconsin and stopping at Sarkis in Evansville where I got four Loretta's (delicious sandwiches) and then pretty much stayed in bed all day.

Ok, time for me to go to bed. Hope you enjoyed the read, and that you didn't miss anything (such as one of your grandchildren's birthdays) during the lengthy duration of reading this!

Oh yeah, and go vote for me.... Only 5 more days!

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