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!

Karma is a bee-otch, isn't it Book???

Ah, another old post from myspace... But still brings a smile to my face! ENJOY!

An exerpt from "H to the Izzo" by Jay Z, aka Sean Carter:

"Holla at me...

I do this for my culture

To let 'em know what a nigga look like...when a nigga in a roaster

Show 'em how to move in a room full 'o vultures...
Pay us like you owe us for all the years that you hold us

We can talk, but money talks so talk mo' bucks"

Alright, let me tell you a little story...

Two years ago, when I was living on Prospect Avenue, I went to the Oak Crest (now Lucky's) to visit a "friend" who worked there, with my lovely roommate, Danielle. That night, Danielle was lifted over the head of an enormous bouncer who just couldn't stop talking about how cute Danielle was... And how much she reminded him of his 8-year-old sister, except for Danielle being white.

Fast forward two nights... Danielle and I in line at F'ing Qdoba (which I hate, because I think the food tastes like air) because Taco Bell was closed (wow, must've been a weeknight, I guess) when we hear this voice... "Heeeey, it's you guys!" Hello big bouncer from the Oak Crest. Talk ensues again about how cute little Danielle is... And then he asks... "Hey, do you guys know who Booker Stanley is?"

For those of you who aren't Badgers, Badger Alumni, or followers of Big 10 football, Booker Stanley was a running back for the Badgers when I went to UW... And he was pretty decent. To be honest, though... The best thing about him was his name. Danielle loved it. At every game we went to, whenever the announcer said his name, Danielle would say "I love his name."

Sooo... Me being who I am, and often not realizing that I am about to embarass Danielle (ha, happens all the damn time... Sorry, girl!). So when big bouncer dude (or, from here on out, BBD, if you will, because his name didn't stick with me, and he really isn't incredibly important to the story) asks if we know who he is, I'm all like "Ohhhhh yeah! Danielle LOVES his name!" Of course I didn't think that the punk ass a few people in front of me who is my height, and about as wide as he is tall is the man about whom we were speaking. BBD yells "Book! Hey Book! Come here!" and this cat just waddles over with the biggest fake diamond I have ever seen in his ear. BBD says to "Book," "Dude, these girls love your name."

Now, I don't know about where y'all are from... But to me, that is not license to hit on people. I don't know where Book is from, either, but apparently that is a direct translation over thurr.
So Book's talking to us, and he's like "Hey, can you do me a favor? I am kinda low on money, so do you think I could borrow money for the 7 cheese nachos?"

Oh really, Book??? "Psh. Look at that rock in your ear. You have money. I haven't worked in a couple weeks because I broke my foot. (I was still wearing that sexy boot... Must've been what attracted him to me!) Besides, when am I going to see you again?"

"I get paid $9,000 in two weeks. I will buy you nachos then."

"Umm, I don't think so."

"Well, I have all but fifty cents of it. I will let you cut in line so you can get out of here sooner if you give me the fifty cents."

Alright, fine... That seems alright, right? I mean seriously... Fifty cents? Who cares.

So we go up by where Book was standing in line, and he's talking to me about all types of stuff. Stuff like my invisalign... During that conversation, he informed me that he has a gap between his two front teeth. I wish I had a pic of him cheesing for you, because the gap is like a half inch wide. Seriously. Thanks, Book, so glad you've pointed that out.

Then he tries to get me to go home with him. Says that he lives closer, and that way I wouldn't have to walk so far with the broken foot.

After I decline, he actually offered to carry me home, over his shoulder, to where he stayed. Seriously, Book, are you that lonely? Are you going to club me over the head like a caveman anyway if I say no? (Yeah, the irony of that statement is coming.... hang on to your seats).

Anyway, so he figures out finally that I am not going home with him, and decides we should order, and then he will, and then he'll pay and go home. Danielle and I order our food to eat in Qdoba, and Book orders his to go. I jokingly say "You better give me my change!" Thinking it would be absurd for him to leave with my change.

Well... Turns out no. Being the running back he was, Booker Stanley took his 7 cheese nachos and ran right out of Qdoba. With my $3. Fucker!

How does all of this tie in to today, and to Karma? Let me give you an excerpt from a story from Channel3000.com...

Headline: Ex-Badger Booker Stanley Found Guilty on Four Counts. Three counts were felonies.

Story:
MADISON, Wis. -- The Dane County Court issued a guilty verdict for former Badger football player Booker Stanley.
Stanley was found guilty on four counts -- three felonies -- including second-degree sexual assault, recklessly endangering safety and bail jumping.
The verdict stems from a Dec. 21 incident involving an ex-girlfriend.
No sentencing date has been set. Stanley could spend more than 50 years in prison, WISC-TV reported.

WOW! As the title says, isn't Karma a Beee-yotch? I am tempted to write the judge a letter, and say that he should be considering adding an hour or so to that 50-year sentence because of his theft of three dollars from a girl who was limping around Madison with an orthopedic boot on. I hate seeing my Badgers brought down by assclowns such as this chump, and Nick Davis, and the like... But this brought a giggle to my lips. And that's real.

Sneaky Vulture Tricks (Volume II)

Sneaky Vulture Tricks, Volume II.

Did you really think that vultures only had ten tricks? Come on now, let's get serious. While many have bird brains... They definitely have more up their feathered, long wingspanned sleeves than anyone lets on. And trust me, I have dealt with some long wingspans.
I want to apologize if this is weak compared to volume 1. Sequels usually are. Cut me a break. Plus, I am 100% sober, unless there are remnants from this past weekend going on.

Also, please accept my apologies for the length of time this took to be composed. To be honest, I had been just too happy and carefree to even get upset about any vultures... But that only lasts so long, and I read something that made me miss being in a loving, romantic relationship, so I guess I am bitter for now, which will hopefully work in the favor of my readers!
I also want to reiterate my ultra important point that this is not a guidebook to being a life-ruiner. Use it that way on any of my girls, and I will personally end you.
And finally, I want to say again that this is not about anyone in particular, but vultures as a species.

And without further adooooo....

11. Being evasive. What is wrong with just being up front? Why you gotta be ambiguous? Are you the Ace or Gary of feelings? If so, then you should wear a cape. It would be at the very least sexy, which is a definite positive addition to just eminating utter confusion. Why choose playing games and acting like you're not interested, or you're maybe interested, when you can just be like "I think I like you, let's get to know each other."

(Sidenote: An excerpt from Wedding Crashers...

"Janice, I apologize to you if I don't seem real eager to jump into a forced awkward intimate situation that people like to call dating. I don't like the feeling. You're sitting there, you're wondering do I have food on my face, am I eating, am I talking too much, are they talking enough, am I interested I'm not really interested, should I play like I'm interested but I'm not that interested but I think she might be interested but do I want to be interested but now she's not interested? So all of the sudden I'm getting, I'm starting to get interested... And when am I supposed to kiss her? Do I have to wait for the door cause then it's awkward, it's like well goodnight. Do you do like that ass-out hug? Where you like, you hug each other like this and your ass sticks out cause you're trying not to get too close or do you just go right in and kiss them on the lips or don't kiss them at all? It's very difficult trying to read the situation. And all the while you're just really wondering are we gonna get hopped up enough to make some bad decisions? Perhaps play a little game called "just the tip". Just for a second, just to see how it feels. Or, ouch, ouch you're on my hair."

end of sidenote, back to sneaky tricks)

I'll tell you why boys are evasive... Because it drives us ladies crazy. How are we supposed to get them off our minds and move on with our lives when we can't stop analyzing their every move to determine whether they're feelin' us? But don't tell boys that. And this only works for so long, at least on me, because I just lose patience and give up apparently.

12. Touching. This one needs to be broken down into two sub-groups, because there are at least two (well, these ones come to mind) ways that vultures use touching to trick us ladies.

a. Extraneous touching. If I am standing in a crowded bar, and a vulture is walking past me, puts a hand on my shoulder, says "excuse me" and then steps past me, and then puts his other hand on my hand or waist on the departure... He is not tricking anyone. Seriously, Roamin' Hands McGee, who are we kidding? I mean, yes, I do take notice... But only in a "why in the hell is this a-hole touching me so much" kind of creepy way. Or, there's the good side of it... The "I am going to make my point ten times stronger by touching my hand to your leg," or the "I am going to be quasi macho and aggressive and show my big tough manliness by getting in a fake fight with you" or even the "I am going to casually tap you mid conversation for no reason" trick. If I have nicknamed you "double touch" you should just leave. For good. What's even more absurd is when vultures just up and move you, or a part of your body. Who do you think you are? OK, now I am just rambling... On to part B!

b. Romantic or flirtatious touching/massages. There is nothing like a strong man putting his strong hands on... 'Nuff said. You sneaky sneaky bastids. I hate you. Or at least I wish I did. I mean seriously. If I say "my back is sore" and your are giving me a massage before I can properly face my back to you... You're just asking for trouble. Only do this type of thing if you actually care about the soreness and the muscles, not just to seem nice or have an excuse to touch a poor girl.

13. Being in shape. Any shape. Men's bodies are so tempting... Whether you have an adorably perfect amount of pudge, or so little body fat that you don't even feel like a person - just skin on brick... Damn you. How dare you exist and be so attractive?! Bitches. I will kill you. I don't even care that this is not your fault. I never claimed to be fair here.

14. Guilt trips - I thought that this was "something chicks do. Your not a chick, are you?" Ahhh, Old School. Anyway, yeah. This one isn't really my thing, at least not recently, but it goes out to someone who knows who she is. It's for you, girl, and I love you. Always have. All I am sayin' is that if you love something, let it go. If someone is clearly trying to break up with you, let them go. But above all, and this is really driving the point home.... If you are upset about something, just say it. Don't make a girl feel bad on purpose and never really say what's on your mind. Save the games for the bedroom olympics, son!

15. Shyness - "Oh, look at me, I don't talk because I am bashful and cute. And I am so intimidated by all of your awesomeness and your amazing friends, that I can't even utter a word for fear that I might embarass myself." Why do I latch on to this behavior? Why do I feel like I need to take these boys under my wing to make sure they are amply enjoying life, when I should be realizing that I just got reeled in to a vulture's nest??? I simply need to remember that they are the ones with wings, not me. F'ing vultures. Swoop swoop!

16. Compliments - "What's it like to know that when you walk into anywhere, you will be the most attractive person in the place?" Are you serious? I don't think I even need to explain why the compliments are just absurd. If you can make a realistic statement that is heartfelt about someone, by all means, do it to it. But if you are just going to say the most absurd thing you can think of to try to get me to the top of your tree and into the nest so that you can push me out of it, just get out of my grill. Are you wearing astronaut pants? Because your ass is out of this world. PUH-LEASE. I think I just threw up in my mouth a lil bit.

17. Apologies - You f'ing tricksters. If you don't mean it, don't say it. If you are just going to do the same damn thing again, don't apologize for it.

But on the other hand, if you are an a-hole and know it, but want to change, appologize. Come on now. It's not that hard. I am pretty sure this idea starting being brought to boys' minds at a very young age. Fiff.

18. Number 18 is about any little reminder that a boy is thinking about a girl... For example, when a vulture knows that his girl is out at a bar, and sends a "you should be thinking about me right now" sort of text message. If this is a loving, committed, and serious relationship, or a blossoming one in the cute stage, by all means... Keep that shit coming. But if it's a struggle, and something that just shouldn't be... Pull your life together and let the girl have some fun without being reminded about how miserable you make her life at times.

19. Gifts - This is just the sneakiest. No explanation needed.

20. Alcohol - Are we serious here? Beer goggles... I don't know. But personality enhancer? Fo shizza. Get off my block. People who aren't equally cool sober as drunk really just need to take some time to figure out their lives. And people who give other people alcohol to make theirselves seem more appetizing... Just get out of here! I think this one is another that doesn't really require explanation. But it is sneaky, and ladies.... Beware!

21. Uniqueness - This one just breaks my heart, and it is another one that isn't really the vulture's fault, but I am still angry about it anyway, so I will throw reasonableness (I don't know if that is a real word or not, but I pulled off saying "optimisticnessism" or something like that without too bad of a consequence the other night, so I am just going to let that one fly) to the wind and bitch about it. Life would be infinitely easier if vultures didn't have a couple good qualities that shine through that you just know that they'll be impossible to find in another. F. I am not going to elaborate any more on this one, either.

OK, well, I think that this has been sufficiently long, and hopefully informative or at the very least, amusing. I have one more apology about it, and that is that there really isn't agreement or consistancy. Some of the time I wrote it directly to vultures, sometimes to girls as a warning, and sometimes just a general article. Deal with it. Because if after reading this, that is your concern, and not the wisdom laid down within... I got nothing to say to you!

Alright, I am going to dump the rest of this half-empty glass of haterade down the drain and go pull my life together.

Oh, and I am sure there will be a volume three. Stopping at 21 isn't necessarily an accident here.***

Peace out.


*** At the time this was written, I was "seeing" a 21 year old... But not the 21-year old that I am "seeing" now who actually just turned 22. Who needs to pull her life together???

Hoes, Hoes, Hoes, and more Shoes.

This one is going to be shorter than the others. And it lacks pictures. But I think you will survive. I wrote the bulk of that last one a few days ago and saved it as a draft, and finished it tonight. I apparently haven't gotten enough writing, so I figured I would quickly pop this one off, and then watch a movie before bed. I pretty much have nothing to do these days. Gotta love being a teacher and getting extended vacations! Haha.

So this past Friday was our staff holiday party. It's held every year at the principal's house in downtown Milwaukee. It's catered, and there is wine service, and it's very nice. Very classy.

Well, it WAS classy, until apparently one of the Special Ed teachers stated coming. He's a Badger grad (like me), which means that the man knows how to party. It is because of him that we've begun having JELLO shots at our fancy staff party. Not just a few, but 500. That might not seem like a lot, but we are a small school. There are fewer than 100 staff members, and of course, about half of the staff members attend. Of the ones that do attend, many go home early, and many are not drinkers. So yeah. 500 JELLO shots. Kind of a lot!

Last year (my first year)'s highlight was doing a jello shot with the principal, who has her doctorate, and is just one of the most fly ladies I've ever seen. It was also pretty cool to see a lot of the teachers hammered. I felt like I didn't belong. I am much younger than most of the staff at our school, so I kinda felt like a student, like I shouldn't be there... Like... Look at all these adults acting crazy!

This year, I felt like I fit in better. I didn't get as drunk as I did last year (so I abstained when the Persian rug became a dance floor), but I definitely felt more comfortable.

Highlights of this year? Jello shots with L (one of my favorite co-workers). I swear we did like ten of them, and had huge talks about the flavors and about how we could build a Math, Science, and Social Studies curriculum about Jello Shots.

Another highlight was when one of the teachers (who was tipsy from a half glass of wine) started singing into the lint roller that she had in her purse. Why did she have a lint roller in her purse? Because she's a teacher.

And finally.... One of the teacher's wives was there. She was wearing a teeshirt that said "What's on my holiday list? Shoes, Shoes, Shoes, and more Shoes!" She was also wearing a blazer, though... And to my humorous pleasure, said blazer covered up three of the S's. So when I looked, her shirt said :

What's on my holiday list?
HOES
HOES
HOES
and more shoes!

Oh, too funny. L and I almost died!

Ok, off to watch "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" for the first time and then go to bed, but before then, I leave you with the question...

Would you rather have a written lisp, or fizz up like alka seltzer whenever you were in water?
(Things to consider: Thwimming!)

The sky is falling! Nope, just a chicken wing.

So, Wingding Wednesday... A little background. This summer was the summer of Brother's in Madison. I practically lived there. I was honestly there 3-5 nights a week (Wednesday through Saturday, with random Tuesday's after flip night at Brat's thrown in). Why Brother's? Well, it started out as boy chasing. No elaboration planned on that one! Then we realized that they play amazing music... most of the time. THEN we became friends with the staff, and the rest is history.

Wingding Wednesday is the best night of the week, if you ask me. So good that twice since September, I have gone there afterschool and come to school the next morning. Yes, an hour and a half, hungover at six a.m. Brut brut! The reason this night is so fantastic is that they have delicious wings for only ten cents each. AND, Captain mixers are 2 for 1. The Captain and I... We are great friends. Sometimes enemies, but as they say, there's a fine line between love and hate.

This past Wednesday, we went up because Danielle just finished her first semester of graduate school. She had been living in the library and clinic constantly. She needed to get out, and where's a better place to do such things than at Brother's in Madison?

During the summer, we kinda assembled a group of girls. Weird for me, because normally I hang out with all guys. This has been working well, though. Well, the five of us hadn't hung out since Halloween. Here's a pic.



Here's the scoop. We were shots. Well, all of us except Jamie. From left to right... Danielle, my awesome roommate. She was a kamikaze. You can't see it, but her shirt says "READY TO DIE." Next is Mara. She's a Jolly Rancher. Lisa's in the middle, and she's a redheaded slut. I'm a dirty girl scout. I put fake dirt all over me, wore knee-high socks, and my skirt is pretty short. Jamie was a pumpkin. I know. LAME! The four of us who were shots wore name tags that had our ingredients on them. And of course, we did all of the shots we were dressed as throughout the night.

So anyway, this Wednesday was a reunion of the five of us... The five of us have somehow became "Derek's Angels" because Derek (Jamie's boyfriend) created a facebook group and invited only the five of us. Bru-tal. So yeah. We were finally all back together. Yay!

I decided that I was going to "take it easy" this night, since I had to teach the next day 90 miles away. My friends were having none of it, especially Ross. Here's a couple shots (two of nine that he insisted on taking that night) of Ross and I... He just kept lining up the captain and diets in front of me!!!



So yeah. I had more than a little Captain in me. And I also had the pleasure of running into a few people from my hometown (name withheld - of the hometown and the people I ran into!)...

It was absurd.

Many wings and rounds of Captain ensued. It was Derek's (the one who is apparently in charge of the Angels, who are doing a photoshoot together within the next month) birthday, so at night, I introduced everyone to my good, dear, old friend Pat Ron.

Here's a shot of the five of us re-united...



Yes, cute little Danielle is definitely standing atop something. This is one of very few pictures you'll see of her being taller than anyone over age 8. And if you're focusing in on my playboy armband, allow me a few moments to explain. I stole it from Rob, one of the bouncers at Brother's the last time I was there in November. No, I have no idea why. But I did accidently wear it to a go-see the next morning with a lingerie designer, with my hair still wet from being in the hottub until 8 am. Thank God she also happens to be one of my best friends!

The night rolls on, and vultures swoop. I am told to "b strong." And that is just what I did.

One incredibly absurd guy was just dancing up a storm. It was hilarious. He was also singing without abandon. We did a couple duets.

Then I found a guy who looked exactly like Jamil Lott. Except he was about 18" shorter than Jamil, and probably brushed his teeth about 63% less, because he really had terrible breath. I can think of few things that I regret more than talking to this guy about how he looked like Jamil. I clearly wasn't trying to hit on him. Just wanted him to know that he looked like Jamil. Couldn't I have just said that, and him said "ok" or "thank you very much" or something like that and have both of us move on with our lives? Apparently not.

Anyway, so I am standing there and texting (shocking, I know), when as if from nowhere, a chicken wing lands on my phone. And another on my arm. Someone had apparently bumped into a guy who was walking past me and carrying a basket of wings, sending several wings flying in many directions, covering me, my phone, and other surroundings in the sauce (which, for the record, contains no cheese). At this point, one of the friends I had run into from my hometown, apparently sees that his girlfriend has had a wing land on her head (brut brut!) and decides that the best option is to beat the guy carrying the wings' ass. So there is a huge fight right next to me. Table gets knocked over, I'm covered in beer and wing sauce, many glasses and bottles broken. Just bru-tal. Thank God for Pete and Dan swooping in and breakin it up, and apparently ripping my friend's jeans off in the process. My first instinct was to break it up, which is what I do at school... Then I realized that these were not middle school children (who are also larger than me, but not by as much of a degree as these grown men... Well... That is actually questionable).

Here's a couple pics of the wonderful staff at Brother's and I...






That's Curti. He's probably one of my best friends... I'll be posting the story about the night we met sometime soon - it's a good one! Just gotta get around to pasting it over from MySpace...






That's Pete and I. I call him "Pet" because when I was first putting him into my cell phone, that's what I typed in, and it stuck!



That's Rob. His legendary armband is wrapped around my leg, and we thought we'd take a picture of it before I gave it back to him!

There wasn't much to the night after the fight was broken up... Little Dan was kicking us out, which was obnoxious... I paid my tab, and Danielle took me to McDonald's and then to Mara's. How brutal is it that McDonald's has a special "middle of the night" menu that serves double cheeseburgers, but not singles? All I want is a single cheeseburger. Ok, all I want is actually two single cheeseburgers and some fries and a drink. But those bastards in the McDonald's in Madison (we went to three the night that I stole Rob's armband!) will not give it to me.

Then D and I went back to "Hotel Mara." Mara was so amused by my footie pajamas (which LL calls "Teletubby pajamas, because I apparently look like a teletubby when I wear them) that she had to take four pictures of me in them in front of her Christmas tree - here's one...



For the record, it was those footie pajamas that I wore back to Milwaukee the next morning... I didn't have it in me to put on real clothes just yet. I did, however, put on my boots over the pj's... I ended up taking one off, though, because I couldn't zip either of them, and the left one just kept dragging on the ground! I didn't want my precious new boots to get destroyed, so I thought that carrying it in my arms would be a good call. I am sure that I was a sight to behold to construction workers when I walked past in that state! They definitely gave me strange strange looks! Oh well... Life goes on!!!

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?

Sneaky Vulture Tricks (Volume I)

Alright... This is probably my favorite blog ever. I wrote it back in July, but it still applies. Actually, I am pretty sure that it is like the ten commandments - it will be an everlasting document. Perhaps I shall carve it into stone? Anyway... Enjoy!

I warn you, this is kinda going to be a rant. After both my roommate* and I got vulched tonight in very separate situations, we had yet another discussion on boys and their sneaky tricks. I correct myself - vultures, and their sneaky tricks. We discussed and compiled a list, and I look forward to the feedback of anyone who reads this. Pardon the bitterness, I am almost done with a bottle of Chardonnay on another sleepless night. Also, I want to note that this is in no way a how-to manual for boys to get myself or Danielle to fall in love with you so that you can be bastards to us. If you do this, I will kill you.

That said, here's the list.

1. Swooping in intermittently. By this, I mean calling, talking to us, giving us glimmers of hope just often enough that we can't get you off our mind, but not often enough that we feel confident that the relationship is going anywhere. Just enough to drive us crazy, and give us no sense of security.

2. Smelling good. We know you stink. But you bastard vultures camouflage your natural stink with things like deodorant and cologne, and then when you hug us (see #3), you leave these delicious smells behind, so that we can continue smelling and thinking of you. Heinous!

3. Hugs/cuddling. You have developed an embrace that makes you unforgettable. You are the best in the world at cuddling, and you cuddle with us a bunch of times, and then fly off into the sunset. That makes us feel safe and at home in your arms, when we should be keeping in mind that you are a predator... Because you are a predator. Just because you are bigger than us, and know how to hug a girl doesn't mean that we should lose sight of the fact that you are really a wolf in sheep's clothing.

4. Bigness. I am a sucker for bigness, and I don't mean this in a sexual way. My first blog was about my love for Shaquille O'Neal. Don't know if you noticed, but he is big. As a youngster, I had a crush on Arnold Schwarzenegger, who is also big. My dad is 6'2" and about 230lbs, which is big. I have always loved being carried around by a big man... And my love for big men has made me lose sight of the fact that they are carrying me away (meant physically AND mentally/emotionally) for less-than-innocent reasons. Big bastards and your f'ing huge wingspans!**

5. The charming smile. You jerks. What are you smiling about? And how do us ladies (carcasses, if you will, to keep the analogy going) confuse it for sweetness or love, when it is most likely truly a "haha, she's falling for my sneaky tricks, I know it, and it makes me happy" kind of a smile? Oh, I will kill you.

6. Empty promises. Oh, I will change. I mean it when I say.... BS! You aren't going to change or do whatever it is you say you are going to do. Now just shut your mouth when you're talking to me. If you don't have something honest to say, then don't say it at all, I say!

7. Musicality. I am not even sure that that is a word, but I am sick of being won over by someone's ability to sing or play an instrument or dance. I am a special sucker for dancers and pianists. No, not penises, pianists. I think that I would swoon immediately if someone played me a song on the piano and sang to me, and then took me out dancing. But why? You ain't special, you pianist you. You are just trying to trick me.

8. Voice. Boys have great voices. Something about the deeperness. I know that that is not a word, but I do not care. I am just saying that since I hate all things high-pitched that I am a sucker for any boy with a voice deeper than mine, and it doesn't even always matter what they are saying. I am also a sucker for those who have voices that speak French, or those who want to hear me speak French. I love speaking French and so far, no one I have ever dated has cared or wanted to hear it. I don't care if you understand me or not. Humor me.

9. Liking animals/children. This one kills me. I think it is so cute to see a guy and a puppy. As an educator, I am very impressed by a man who is good with kids. But seriously... So sneaky!

10. Blending in... Ah yes, for my final rant, I chose "blending in." I have met guys who are not vultures. Plenty of them. But then I have also met guys who are vultures, but hid it well for a long time. How are us girls supposed to tell what species you are? If you are a vulture, admit it and swoop with pride. If you are not, then please step into my office (after a few more months of me being single, because I am really not ready for you yet... But I would love to hook you up with someone who is!).

Before I end this rant, I want to add a disclaimer. I am not a man-hater. In fact, most of my friends are probably guys, and it seems to me that most aren't vultures. I am just struggling today. I also want to say that although there are specific people who come into mind from either my life experiences or the life experiences of my friends for each number, that this rant was not written about a specific guy at all. What I am saying is, this is about vulturous guys who are bad and know it. I know that not all guys are vultures. If I didn't believe that, I would be a lesbian.

Just sayin'.

End rant.

(Ok, not really end rant, because there's always Sneaky Vulture Tricks Volume II and Sneaky Vulture Tricks Volume III, PLUS the Vulture National Anthem sent to me by Brian!)

**** HAHA! I just re-read this for the first time since July! So funny. I'm not this bitter right now, but there are definitely times in between then and now that I have been! And I think that some of the parts are definitely hilarious, considering who I currently spend my time being interested in, and who I was with in the meantime... Those who know me know this is funny...

* For any strangers reading this, Danielle is my roommate. Love her to death. All four feet and eleven inches of her!

** This cracked me up. Although eh doesn't seem to be a vulture, 7'3" of wingspan is pretty f'ing significant!

Hello!

My name is Mandie, and I am a blogger. Apparently. Never thought I would be. Also never thought I would be on myspace (once I got the fake profile made in my name deleted, that I can only assume was made by students at my school and said ridiculous things - like that my favorite movie was Girls Gone Wild and that my favorite activities included {but weren't limited to} skinny dipping)... But then this summer I joined myspace. And after the prodding of many who say that I experience a disproporionate amount of absurd things in my life and should write a book, I started blogging. I'm told that I need to share this with more than just my myspace people (I'm one of those who only uses it for friends I have in real life), and that complete strangers might in interested in my tales. SO, here I am. And since nothing really exciting happened last night (except for cooking a belated dinner and eating it, and then going to bed incredibly early), and since YOU all have catching up to do... I'm just going to copy a few posts from MySpace every so often. Enjoy!

P.S. I'm using a pseudonym. Deal with it.