Happy birthday, Mom! (Luggage return and wifebeater bar crawl)

Happy birthday, Mom! For your birthday, I promised you a blog, and a night out on the town (which I am sure will also be blog-worthy), so here goes!

So a little bit ago, I got my luggage back. I couldn't have been more excited. I came home and there was a post-it from UPS saying my package was in the office.

So, I went down there, and the propert manager was in the office talking to a couple prospective tennants. She gave me my luggage, which was packaged in a giant "Staples" box, and mentioned something about how she knew I had been looking forward to receiving it.

She then asked me if it was school supplies that were in the giant box.

I sheepishly told her that it was not school supplies.

She then asked me what it was, and I gave her the cliff's notes version of my story.... That I had too much to drink while in Vegas and left my luggage in a cab.The prospective tennants just started cracking up.The property manager, who is about 55 years old, exclaimed, "Amanda! I would never expect that from you!"All I could think was.... Do you not watch the security videos of me coming home at 4:00 almost every morning in my "going out" clothes?I just said, "Well, you gotta cut loose sometime, I guess!"To which she replied, "But you're a school teacher!"This is when the prospective tennants almost fell out of their chairs. I just kinda stood there, with my luggage in my arms.She then said, "At least it happened somewhere where your students weren't around to see it!"INDEED!I just said something like, "I didn't know that 'what happens in vegas stays in vegas' applied to my luggage, but I guess I was wrong!" She said something about how now I have something else to think about when I see those commercials. Indeed I do!
So later that day, I called my mom to tell her that my luggage had made its way back home to me. During this conversation, she informed me that the girl who lives across the street is in jail again.Apparently, she got her 4th DUI. She is 24 years old.I was in shock, although I shouldn't have been, as this is Racine we are talking about. We joked about Confucious saying something like "Fool me once, shame on you, fool me four times and I am too stupid to be allowed to live."I asked my mom, "What, is the 'learning' part of her brain not functioning anymore?"To which she responded, "That part's still drunk! It's still in Vegas! It went on a weekend bender and hasn't returned yet!"Oh, Mom. I am glad to see that I will not soon be living this one down!It's actually ok, though, as I am kinda proud of myself. And, to be honest, the experience has been worth way more than the $25 it cost me to ship my luggage back home in conversation value alone! Yeah, it sucked to be wearing my reject makeup and not have access to my flat iron and curling irons, but hey.... No harm, no foul. I am just pumped that I was able to function highly enough to get on my plane. Plus, I've learned my lesson: always travel with someone who is going to be sober enough to make sure you keep your shit together. Haha.

So soon after was the wifebeater bar crawl, and I was brave enough to wear my infamous "I heart Patron" beater. Turns out, I did a lot of shots (mostly because of repeatedly winning some dice game that I still don't understand at all), none of which were Pat Ron. Old Uncle Pat Ron must've been hung over. Anyway, here are a few pictures from the day!

The morning of, I was incredibly tired. I didn't sleep at home, which meant that I was quite the tired girl! Plus, I was a little hung over.... Who goes out and gets hammered the night before she knows she has a bar crawl at 1130 am? I do!

The first stop was McGillycuddy's. Here's a shot of LL and I there.... We've both taken better pictures, haha....

And here is a shot of LL and one of our friends, Khary....

We were still pretty much struggling at McGillycuddy's. We didn't even have a single drink.

So the next stop was Fat Daddy's, where we were supposed to play beanbags and/or volleyball. I was still not moving fast enough to be so active, but we did do jello shots (which you can see Khary below trying to snort), and have some drinks. We also took a cute picture with Troy and Khary on my and LL's laps.

So then he upgraded the straw, so as to possibly get more jello shot in his nose....

And the cute lap picture.....

Then LL and I decided to ask Henry to take a picture of us. Once we handed him the camera, he immediately took a picture of himself. For your viewing pleasure....

Here's the first picture of us, sportin' our stunna shades, because the sun was too much for our strugglin' ass eyes....

Hen, our lovely art director for this photo shoot, decided that we would show more emotion if we took off our sunglasses. He was right, and here's the evidence!

The next stop was MJ's which was just a tiny place. I had just started to feel a little bit of the effects of alcohol, as right before we left Fat Daddy's, Troy and I pounded our drinks, as usual, after he said, "Bottoms!" That has now become the way that we finish all our drinks, by the way.... That was mostly from one night in which Troy, LL, and I drank about 25-30 martinis in about two or three hours, and pounded them because of Troy saying, "Bottoms" all the time.

It was here that we met Marcus, who we now call "Alleged Marcus."

The reason we call him such a name is because when we met, he tried to give us some line about how he works at the middle bar at Decibel. Excuse me? There is no way that that is true. We go there all the time. We would've seen you. Let's be serious about life. Anyway, here are pictures of Alleged Marcus taking some gross shots and hangin' with Hen....

Since the bar crawl, we've seen Marcus a few times at Decibel, at the same side of the bar as us, though. He is adamant about his employment there. He always asks the people around him to verify that he works there. We tell him that we're sorry, but we do not believe the credibility of whoever he's asked, even if it is an owner.

He has also gone so far as to show us a business card. I then replied that we do not believe that Marcus is even his name. I told him that I have a business card from Decibel, too, and that my name is Dustin. He says I am a little light-skinned and blonde for Dustin. Agree to disagree, Alleged Marcus, agree to disagree.

Another humorous conversation was when Marcus asked us why he doesn't get kicked out at bar time. He couldn't even make it through that sentence without laughing, as he knew that we rarely get kicked out at bartime!

Anyway.... We played "flippy cup" or "boat races" for a bit at MJ's. Tristan had set up games at each bar.... LL and I, who both hate beer, played with mixed drinks. That was obviously a genius call. Hen also alternated between the two for the different rounds. He is not good at slamming beverages, and thus dumped the majority of his drink down the front of his face. Hilarious.

LL and I then changed games, and turned (of course) to Photo Hunt. Holla! It was during this time that we began chatting with a fellow bar crawler (or is it bar crawlee), who I maintain looks like Jason Kidd. You can verify such things below.

Next stop was VI Degrees. This was brutal for several reasons. The first is that every time we go to VI Degrees, which is every Thursday night for a brief stop, we drink a Randy Watson. Randy is actually seriously high on the list of why we go there.... It's that, and to support our friend Fred, who spins there that night and sometimes plays my song for me.

Randy Watson, as you hopefully know, is a character from one of my all-time favorite movies, Coming to America. He's the guy who performs at the Black Awareness Rally. You may know him as "Joe the Policeman" from the "What's Going Down?" episode of "That's My Momma." That boy good! I believe the children are our future.....

Anyway, our new friend Randy is actually a chocolate martini. This is the most brilliant name for a drink I have ever heard of, as Randy Watson from Coming to America was the frontman for the band "Sexual Chocolate."

Obviously, what anyone who is on hours seven and eight of a bar crawl needs is a couple damn martinis. Especially someone who is as talented as I am at the art of sipping. Lawd.

Put that hand-in-hand with the aforementioned dice game, and you have the recipe for disaster.

I still don't understand this damn game. I think I helped someone (a master of photo hunt who works at Vitucci's.... Best photo hunt player I've ever seen. RIDICULOUS!) win this game last night. I blew on his dice. Got lots of high fives.

Anyway, the day of the bar crawl, I didn't get as many high fives so much as shots. I should've stuck to high fives, because VI degrees is where my ass fell apart. Here are some pictures from there.... The first is of Tristan and I. Boy, do I look sober!

Yep yep, that is definitely my sober face! I am all biz!

Next up is LL with "Eric" aka Jason Kidd. I also threw in a picture of the real Jason Kidd (will the real J Kidd please stand up?) for a point of comparison, so you can see just how much these two men look alike. I mean, really.

I mean, not the best picture of "Eric" I don't think, but you can definitely see a resemblance, right?

Anyway, VI Degrees was a bit of a struggle for LL as well, as she ended up leaving her phone there. When we got to the final bar, a special trip had to be made all the way back to VI Degrees to retrieve her phone. Perhaps, however, she shouldn't have been allowed to use her phone at this point, because she was sending some pretty absurdly ridiculous and heinous texts.

What is also amusing about her leaving her phone at VI Degrees is that merely one week before, she left her phone on the stoop at Bayou after my birthday party. Pull your life together, LL!

"Mandie, I got your girl's phone here at Bayou."

"Mandie, your girl's phone is at Bayou."

Haha.

In stereo with a cute little delay.

Anyway, LL was not the only one who caused a special trip. When we were leaving VI Degrees, I had decided that I needed a cheeseburger or two, and that I needed it immediately. The appetizer specials that were to be at the final bar were simply not going to cut it.

So yes, the entire school bus went to McDonald's. But at this point, I had hit a wall. I was going to sleep, and that was all there was to it. So I did. On the bus. I sent friends into McDonald's for what I affectionately refer to as the McDelicious. This is a McLers (two cheeseburger meal) + a crispy ranch snack wrap.

Problem was, I was too tired to eat when my food came to me on the bus, so I was pretty much laying there with a cheeseburger in my hand, and another one plus the snackwrap laying on my body. It was a classy sight to behold, and was only made classier by my attire, I tell you!

When we got to the fifth and final bar, the Lodge, I wasn't havin' it. So, I took a nap in Tristan's car. LL and J Kidd kept me company. Then LL's sweet roommate came and picked LL and I up. At some point, Tristan's car alarm was going off while I was in it, and I was not very quick to realize that I was the one with the power to make it stop, since his keys were in my hand. Brut brut!

Then Joee (LL's roommate) picked us up, and took us to her old roommate's house. I don't recall why. At this time, J Kidd texted me to see why I had left him. I told him that he had left me. When he tried to argue, my response was "Erroneous! Erroneous!"

Obviously.

Ended up going back to LL's and cuddling with her for awhile. That was quite nice, especially since she didn't have her damn heated mattress pad on.... That thing is absurd. I slept over there once when Ray Ray was in town, and the thing was on high. In my infinite (drunken) wisdom, I didn't think to ask LL to turn it off. She seemed pleased by it. Instead, I tried to roll over as much as I possibly could. When one side of my body was fully cooked, I rolled over. I also tried laying on the edges of the bed so as to not be on the hot spots. I was, however, wiggling around like "a little strip of bacon."

Now LL calls me her little strip of bacon. Isn't that cute? Love it.

Finally made it home, and was in bed before midnight.

That was a long ass day!

Anyway, happy birthday, Mom! Finally 47! I hope you enjoyed the blog.

I read your email. Can't believe grandma said the F word! I freaked out when she said "ass" a couple times in my life. What I also can't believe was that you called me to tell me that she said the F word, and implied that if/when I checked my email about such things, I would understand more.... But then I get the email, and all it says is what you told me on the phone! No story or anything! You are going to have to elaborate. I mean, is it like when Danielle said it, quoting her uncle, and it apparently doesn't count? Or did she say it legitimately? I just gotta know! I'll be watching my email like a hawk.... Or perhaps like a vulture watches its prey! Haha....

Love you!

Thanks everyone for reading. Hope you enjoyed! There should be a new one soon! (I know, I know... I say such things all the damn time.)

Drunk Diary 8-12-06

2006 is almost over. Almost time for 2007! To ring it in, I am going to post one of my favorite memories of 2006... I remember most of it, anyway!

Alright, I don't know how Cari decided that I am the storyteller of the two of us, but apparently it is my responsibility to impart the absurdity that was Saturday... I have a feeling that a lot of this is going to be "you had to be there" kind of humor, but even if it makes one person smile, it's worth it...

Night begins with a decision as to where we are going to go. Cari mentions a desire to hear Billy Ocean's masterpiece "Get Outta My Dreams," and the decision is made. We're going to Brother's, since as Andrew pointed out, they play that song nightly.

Since Danielle has other biznass to attend to (good girl!), the sweetheart and angel she is drops us off, because let's be realistic... Neither Cari nor I are going to be safe to drive at the end of this night. So, we pop "Mike D's Old School Mix" (which, for the record, is an f'ing phenomenal cd) into the car stereo and get moving on our way. We sing a little BBD (Yes, "Do Me" is one of the highlights of Mike's masterpiece) and some other awesome hits until we get there.... But when we roll up in the Acura with the curbside service (thanks again, DeFran), it's all about "If It Isn't Love" by New Edition. Hell yes, we were bumping it. And I can't say with certainty, because I was only wearing my left contact lens at the time, but I am pretty sure that Gerard, who was at the door, looked at us like "Who do you think you are?"

You know who we are, Gerard.

And yes, he did, because he just let us in... Although he was a little iffy about it. What a snot!
Anyway, first order of business was to get a drink. We were hoping for Curti, who was working, but were served by a much more serious man. So we drank drink #1 for the night.

(This seems like it is going to be really long. It might be. But let me ease your mind with the fact that the details get more and more hazy and the events get more and more interesting as the night rolls on.)

Drink #1 is done, so we go for #2. Yay! Curti! It should be noted, that right after saying hello to me, Curti says "Your hair's funky tonight!" with that big smile of his. Thank you for noticing, Curti! I explain that I was in a funky mood. Curti gives us our drink, then takes a picture of us for us...

When he hands back the camera, Curti says "Wow, you actually physically made love to the camera in that picture. I don't know how you did that!" Haha, Curti. You're too funny!

Shortly into drink #2, Cari and I are approached by a big meathead. He looks like he is 35 years old, but I am scared to tell him this, because he might go into a 'roid rage. After a little bit of talking (during which he keeps moving closer and closer to us... Such that we started out at the corner of the bar, and by the end of our drink were by the f'ing stairs from backing away from this man so much), he introduces himself.

Meathead: "My name's Kiev."
Me: "Kiev? Like Chicken Kiev?"
Kiev: "Well, I usually say 'like the city in Russia,' but I suppose chicken kiev works, too."

Turns out, my age estimation was dead on. Chicken Kiev is 35 years old.

The meathead judgement was dead on as well. One of Kiev's most entertaining stories was about how he takes long lunches to go work out at the Princeton Club, and that there is a Puerto Rican guy he is friends with from working out, and they yell "Hey, Cabron" at eachother across the gym. Let's also not ignore the fact that was pointed out to me - Kiev is actually not even in Russia. If you're going to liken yourself to a city, you should at least know where it is!

If that story is what this man uses to try to bring home girls, maybe it is a good thing that performance and muscle enhancing drugs have likely caused his testicles to shrivel. He won't be needing them anyway.

Another interesting tidbit about Kiev, who we talked to for way too long (so long, in fact, that we considered switching bars to get away from him... Worry not, we were saved by my overactive bladder that night... I don't know what was up with that.), and too many times... He was in Madison that night with his "body guard" who was just this enormous ass individual that looked like a wall. He definitely could have been a professional football player if he had any skills... I am guessing that he didn't have any, though. Or if he did, none of them were "speaking English" because he didn't say a word all night. Maybe that was better, although I can scarely imagine a scenario in which letting your friend Chicken Kiev do all the talking is the best P of A.
So after this admission of having a big body guard, and lengthy explanations of why no one would consider jumping him if his friend was with him (sure would have been nice if there was a knight in shining armour or two to save us at this point), Cari strokes his ego a bit and tells him that she is pretty sure that he (Chicken Kiev) can hold his own in a fight.

I am having none of this. I praise his idea of having the body guard, and explain to him that I am actually Cari's body guard, and when people see us in an alley and think about jumping Cari, and then they see me, they think "There is no way in hell I am going to fuck with her." And from this point forward, with Chicken Kiev, I basically repeat back everything he says, but make it so that it is the exact statement but about Cari or I. Meathead Chicken Kiev has no idea we are making fun of him directly to his face.

Drink #2 = finished. Bathroom trip #2 = in progress. Who do we see, but Lance and Miguel, the erotic photo hunt legends of Madison, WI. Cari has a little bit of a sour taste in her mouth from the last time she met Lance, when he was the drunkest person in the world, smelled like a lawn mower, and said many beligerant and dirty things to her. I assured her that he wasn't so bad the other time when he was soberer, and she agreed to give him a second chance. We say hi briefly, go get the bathroom thing taken care of, and then go back to Lance and Miguel.

I immediately called Lance out on his vulturesque behavior the last time we saw him, as well as the fact that he smelled like a lawn mower, and he appologized profusely and explained that he had been golfing and drinking all day, and didn't even remember everything that he said. Bravo, Lance, Bravo! We had some friendly conversation, several laughs, and then took this cute little picture...

In the meantime, I have set up a tab with Curti. For drink number three, I get his attention, and he holds up two fingers, while raising his eyebrows. I nod, to confirm that both Cari and I will be imbibing a new drink at that point. Amazing. By the time that I get to the bar, the drinks are ready, and he takes my card. Just beautiful. Thank you, Curti.

We bid LanceNMiguel ado, with a sad farewell, since I will not likely see them again since I am moving to Milwaukee, and me threatening to kill them if they come to my Photo Hunt turf.

A little bit of time passes, and Cari and I decide that once we finish our drinks and go to the bathroom (again... sorry, Cari), that we should do shots. On the way back from the bathroom, I spot Curti and smile, he puts his two up, I nod, drinks are on the way. We get to the bar, and there are our drinks... He notices that we are not lined up correctly, and switches them, handing them to us individually, and saying "I believe you are the Captain" when he gives me mine.

Damn right, I am the Captain, Curti!!! That's what I liked to hear. Anyway, the three of us do a shot (one of Curti's creations), and we step away from the bar to drink our drinks and finally debrief about both Kiev and Lance N Miguel. We also, at this point, had the chance to rock out to "Get Outta My Dreams," by Billy Ocean. It was beautiful.

We are not standing there long when I am hit by a blast from the past. Alex M! He was a couple years younger than me and went to my highschool... I was good friends with his brother, John M, who is a year older than me. How funny! In my mind, Alex was still highschool aged, despite the fact that I had knowledge that he was at Madison. We quickly took a picture together, caught up really quick, and parted ways...

Shortly after Alex steps aside, we look up at the bar to see a girl we had been making fun of all night (She had the most absurd blonde dye-job and was dressed like a street walker. "Is that girl serious???") and a few of her hoe-ass friends dancing atop the bar. That was ridiculous. And, to top it off, they all sucked at dancing. I resisted the temptation to show them up, and waited patiently for them to get off the bar. Once they did, Curti and I used our signals to procure more drinks... And shots, for Cari and I.

Then we decide that I need a picture with Gerard. So, we obviously make that happen... Notice the face on Gerard's shoulder... That's Jay-Bob. He comes into play later. I don't know the other broseph's name, but he is always there. (Turns out, he's Ben. I would befriend him later in the summer/Fall).

Such begins the ridiculous picture fest.

Now, Cari decides that what she really needs in life is to have a picture of me kissing her on the cheek. Alright, sounds good. Gerard was the chosen one as photographer, since he wasn't doing anything immediately after posing with me anyway.

(Sidenote: Cari, aren't you proud of us for keeping it 100% G-rated?? YES!)

Anyway, at this point I believe that we got more drinks with the Curti thing. I mean, he just made it way too easy. I don't know exactly how many times I got drinks in this easy fashion, but I can tell you that it was convenient as hell, and spelled trouble.

Then Kiev, who is still f'ing there, comes and talks to us for a second. Just a second, though...

Thank God! But worry not, for another vulture is prepared to swoop... This guy walks up and says "I gotta ask you girls a question, and I have been wondering this all night. How in the fuck do you two know Kiev?"

What makes you think we know him? Because he is being a stalkin'-ass vulture?

We explain that we had just met him that night, and did not know him. Then this friend explains that Kiev is actually a cokehead, which confuses the shit out of Cari (I gotta say that I am a little baffled as well), because Kiev is such a big dude...

Cari: "I thought that cokeheads were supposed to be all EMANCIPATED?"

Emaciated? Yeah. Anyway, the friend goes on and on about how Kiev's eyes were all dilated and blah blah blah boring vulture blah.

OK, last call! We had better get more drinks, since it is our last chance.

Now keep in mind, that we had a couple drinks BEFORE going out, since Danielle was driving.

We paid in cash for two rounds... And we went up there twice at this point to get both drinks AND shots, as well as 1-3 other times for JUST drinks. Also, keep in mind that we started drinking while we were getting ready at approximately 9:30, and that we got to the bar shortly after 11. It is now 2am. Three hours of fun after arriving at Brother's.

What do we say to Curti when we get to the bar to get our drinks, which were, of course, sitting and waiting for us???

"Curti, we're not drunk yet, so we're gonna need shots, too."

We're not drunk yet???? WHAAAAAT??? Obviously.

Anyway, so we do a shot with Curti, and then step aside to drink our drinks...

Then I close my tab ($40 - sweetness!), and get Curti's number, which he hands back to me on a slip... Curti and I had previously (a couple weeks before) discussed how we each loved making up stories about who we were, and thought it would be fun if he ever came to Milwaukee to make an absurd backstory and lie to people all night... And I should probably give a little background on how Curti and I became acquainted... The time prior to this one that Cari was in town, when I was the drunkest person in the United States and stole Zak that mojitos poster, I apparently told Curti that he should remember my face and name for the next time I was in there, because I am a good tipper and I wanted good service. The next day I went in, and he immediately said "Hi, Mandie!" to me, and I hadn't remembered the previous night's conversation, so I felt like a huge drunk. Ah, well...

Anyway, moments later, I am talking to Curti about how he needs to transfer to the Brother's on Water street in Milwaukee... And I want to confirm that he will call me when he is in Milwaukee... And I dont remember him giving me his number, which was at the time, in my pocket. So he gives me his number again, and I put it in my phone. I was a genius at this point. Thank you, Cari, for your help here.

This part gets a little fuzzy for me... But I know that we were talking a lot to the staff of Brother's about various things... Which is probably how we ended up being the last patron's in there... Our explanation was that we needed pictures with Curti, our favorite bartender in the world, for obvious reasons...

Have you been wondering all along what he looks like? Good... Here we are!

Awww...

And of course we need another, with Cari...

OK, so I have no idea how it happened... But remember Jay-Bob, from the picture above with Gerard? Well, at this point, he must have attacked me with a permanent marker... Because that is the only way I can think of that the words "Jay-Bob ownes me" and a picture of a fish, as well as a blue dot could have gotten drawn on my arm. And yes, he spelled it "ownes." Brutal!

Danielle, notice the "bracelet arm" pose?

So, at this point, Cari and I decide that it is time to continue our trend of all Mexican food all the time, and go to T-Bell for some crunchwraps. Done and done. We were the last people here, too. Yes, the employees (who I probably bonded with as well) were sweeping as we were leaving. Again. Good for us! I am pretty sure it is 3am at this point. Could be later. Who knows?

At some point, either at the end of the night at Brother's (perhaps even by Kiev's friend? Who knows?) or at T-Bell, we are invited to an A-Bar at TKE... Of course we are ready to party. I mean, at this point, are we even ready to admit that we might be drunk? It's anybody's guess. So we walk over to TKE. Thank goodness Cari knows her frats and sororities... Or maybe not. Because when we arrive, no one is there. Or if they are, they are not conscious.

So we decide to go home, and I decide that it is time for some drunk dialing and texting. Do I remember any of the conversations that took place at this time? Nope. I sent a thank-you text to Curti. I sent many other texts, too. Are they grammatically perfect? Yes. Do they make any sense at all when strung together, or even put back and forth with the responses? Not so much, no. Good thing I was communicating with someone else who wasn't so sober!

I suggest we hail a cab. Apparently, I thought that I was in NYC. Did I really think there would be cabs all over State Street at 4am? Yes. Ah well. So Cari is the crabbiest person ever because we feel duped about the TKE party... I don't really care about this. She tells me that I am stupid on the "hail a cab" idea (she's right) and then calls one (thanks, Andy, for the number!). She doesn't know my address, and I am on the phone, so she has to tell the cab operator that we are going "Somewhere on Fish Hatchery Road." The cab operator is like "You don't know where you are going???" (Almost as good as "Ma'am, are you aware that you are at the library?)... The cab comes...

We get in the cab, and that's pretty much a time warp. I don't remember anything other than getting in and out of it.

When we get back to my apartment, I see that a new phone book has been placed inside the main door. This apparently upsets me. I start bitching about how we have like eight fucking phone books (complete lie. At this point in the story, we had one phone book, which is the perfect amount), and why do people keep giving us phone books?

Obviously, the best course of action is for me to take this phone book, which I do.

Cari, the voice of reason here, asks me "If you guys have eight fucking phone books, then why are you taking that one?"

And I say "Because it's a free gift!" in my most cheerful voice.

I take out my contact, brush, floss, wash my face and go to bed.

When I wake up (at 8am - WHAAAT?), my hair looks exactly as it did when I left the apt. I don't know how. And the first thing I had to do was wash off "Jay-Bob ownes me" of my arm.
Thank you so much to everyone involved in the night, whether directly or indirectly, for making it awesome.

And thank you to you, whoever is reading this, for being an f'ing trooper. This shit is long.

Almost took me an hour! Hope you enjoyed!

Brut brut bru-tal! Drunk diary 12-17-06

You may be wondering why I named my blog "Brut brut!" Well, it's because that is one of the phrases I use the most in life. I'm not referencing the heinous-smelling men's aftershave found in g-stores nationwide. I'm shortening the word "brutal." I often sing "brut brut" in many songs. I've also been well-known to say "Bru-tal." That would be changing that second syllable to rhyme with "Al" or "Sal" or "Hal," and not "bull." Anyway, there's your explanation.

Most of the things in my life are bru-tal. Lots of my stories are absolutely bru-tal. Here's one of them!

I thought I told you that we don't stop, I thought I told you that we don't stop!

STICK THROUGH TO THE END. IT'S THE BEST PART AND TOTALLY WORTH IT.

So yeah... I totally meant to blog this sooner, but I've been busy (i.e. last week of school, mid-week trips to Brother's in Madison for Wingding Wednesday, staff Christmas party, etc.). Then today it was in one of my three dreams during my afternoon nap (the other two involved a lady snatching my wine glass out of my hand at a fancy soiree in front of my groupd of female friends, and Ous telling me I owe him 43 hugs. Weird.). I'll throw in the dream that inspired me to blog at the end of this silly account.

So Sunday, December 17th, I was in a runway show. It was for DiCarlo Salon, Fred Fashions, MP2, and Sweet Kicks, and at the Vucciria in Milwaukee. I was pretty excited, because it had been awhile since my last runway show, and I didn't think I'd be selected for it. Plus, I'd like to do more modeling and stuff, especially in Milwaukee, since I live around here.

Also in the show with me were Nicole and Jon, who are both modeling friends of mine. Nicole could be described as my partner in crime, especially after this last Sunday. Fairly recently, when Nicole had to deal with a heinous situation, I suggested she fill a water bottle with Bacardi Limon and water... The alcohol is virtually undetectable. So, Nicole pulled right through and showed up at the salon with a HUGE evian bottle filled with this magical mixture. Because we obviously needed that.

So we get crazy runway hair done and cute makeup... Here's a picture of us at the salon...

Aren't we fly? I don't think we're really drunk yet at this point...

Anyway, so we get to the show and practice a million times and have a couple drinks. They're making them strong, too.

Wait a minute, I skipped a part. Not to name names here, but SOMEONE (who I love dearly) could not find her car. Apparently this was not due to alcohol, but entirely because of talking on the phone while parking. So we were driven around a bit to get the car, and finally arrived at the show.

We ran through several times and made friends with other models involved, the dancers that performed in-between the passes of the models, as well as other behind-the-scenes people.
Then we did the show, which was fun. I have seen some pictures of the show, and it looked like it was a success, and I felt good about my performance in it.

After the show, we were instructed to walk around in our last outfits for an hour and mingle with people. Great. This was basically like Jason DiCarlo telling us to go and get hammered.

I mingled. Oh yes, I mingled. One of the people I mingled with was Dan Gadzuric. That would be a center for the Milwaukee Bucks. If you are a more visual person, maybe this will help you...

Apparently, at this point I was hammered. I was trying to talk to him about a broken TV in the Bradley Center locker room, but it was a struggle. He didn't understand a goddamn word I was saying. I swear I was speaking English! I was not, however, texting in English. I'll throw in a list of the texts I sent this absurd evening at the end, just before my description of the dream sequence!

Here's a picture of Nicoley and I with the aforementioned dancers...

I like the one guy's chain jewelery. He also had a matching bracelet (not pictured). And under the padlock was one of the Aldo necklaces that I have that benefits AIDS. We obviously have the same taste!

Here's a shot of Nicole and I....

We're obviously sober. At least I don't look naked.. Oh, wait...

Nicole apparently also liked the guy with the chain... Here's proof!

She definitely told him that he would look better with a grill! (One of the first times we went out, I woke up to find a picture of Nicole with a friend we had made at Marquette Gyros that definitely had a grill. We meet the best people, don't we, Nicole?)

So then after our hour of obligatory and awesome mingling, we changed out of our awesome clothes.... I made friends with Gina, the girl who was in charge of shoes. Such good friends, apparently, that I changed clothes right in front of her. I also made a bet with her ($100) that I was older than her. She's 31. Oops! I texted her, and we plan to hang out soon (possibly tonight!).

So Jon checked out for the night, and Nicole, a model named Russ (who was actually in the last wedding that I went to with my ex-boyfriend) and I went to Jo Cat's on Brady (so I'm told). It was at Jo Cat's that I saw my friend Adam. He's trouble. I don't think I've ever been in his presence without doing at least one shot. And they are never things like "Dirty Girl Scout" or triple sec. It's always stuff like So-Co and Lime, or Liquid Cocaine. Perfect. Just what the doctor ordered.

According to Adam, I berated him for not recognizing me, despite my crazy runway hair. I then told every single girl that walked past that Adam was a baller. He bought me a So-Co and lime, and we took this great picture (which was, by the way, one of the only things that made me remember seeing Adam... Oops!)

Then Nicole, Russ, and I left. I am pretty sure that we went to Red Light, which is the bar above Trucadero (or however you spell it!).

Anyway, I am pretty sure more drinking occurred. It had to. I am also pretty sure that I was still drunk for awhile at school. Oops.

Maybe some day, I will start acting my damn age. Don't hold your breath!

Alright, as promised, here are the texts!!!

"Hey, it's madg3 and we are going to hang out." - me to Gina, in charge of shoes!

"Where wm are?" - to Nicole

"No, I love you." - to Ous!!!! Perfect. How romantic?!

""I'm at an amer show party and hammered."

"Hi miss you!"

"Dabo"

"I'm working to your tv spoken" - to Oha, intended for Ous.

"Nowy straightu i i'pl here!" - To Curti - Was I speaking in Hawaiian????

"I n'i4 7768"

"I miri you"

"I big not fifte yet."

"S'hhhi!"

"Ale de feel beautivetj' "

"You serge hot and I want you."

"Damm tv. I lurk want you. And there other peeps. F' "

Yeah. So that's good.

I called Gina (shoe girl) on Tuesday because she told me I could buy the boots that I wore and get a modeling discount. When I told her who I was, she was like "Oh, cute little drunk Mandie!"

Perfect.

When I went into the store to try on the boots and buy them, we talked a bit about the show. I told her that I had heard from a photographer that my first dress was sheer when the flashes hit it. One of the other store clerks asked if I was wearing underwear. Gina was like "I saw her with her pants off, and no, she wasn't wearing underwear!"

Great. Good good. She says that it was just Nicole and another female model in there, so I guess I still had SOME discretion!

When Ous was over on Tuesday after his game, he informed me that I also called him. Apparently, he was sleeping. But when he woke up (while I was leaving an incredibly intelligent message at 231 am), he called me back (How sweet. Maybe he thought I was having an emergency issue?). He says that I was mumbling unintelligibly at the beginnging, and then I was like "Hold on, someone is calling me. It's you! Hello? Hello?" He then tried to tell me that I said "hello" for three or four minutes. Fabrication, Ous! My phone records say I was on the phone less than a minute and a half!

I wonder what it's like to have never tried alcohol, and have some crazy chick drunk dial and drunk text you regularly?!

So my dream... I had a dream that Jason DiCarlo asked me to be in another show, and when everyone was getting ready, he said "This time, there will be no alcohol at the show" and then he looked at Nicole and I with a crazy look! Bru-tal!

Now I ask you...

Would you rather be compelled to enter every room by jumping into the doorway with an imaginary pistol drawn like a 70's cop show or invariably make your orgasm face instead of smiling when being photographed?