NYE2k8

Alright, so this has a little Christmas in it, too.... One picture.

It's my cousin April, aunt Laura, Mamalicious, and I.... Doing a Christmas shot of 1800....



I swear to you that I am not pregnant.... It's the shirt that makes me look that way, probably coupled with the awkward way I am standing. If I was pregnant, I definitely wouldn't be consuming Tequila, especially since it would pretty much be an immaculate conception! Wouldn't want to kill whatever miracle kid would be growing inside me. Anyway, this is getting off-track and terrifying! On to New Year's Eve....

Although, I should probably comment a bit on Mamalicious' visit, which was the Thursday in between Christmas and NYE.

First we went to Fred and Red Heel's Thursday night soiree thing.... You know the last Thursday of the month, where they have wine and martini night. It was fun. Had a glass of wine and bought some thingies to put into my black heels (the ones with the closed back, in case you keep track) so that they fit better.... I wear them so much, they stretched out a bit.

Next stop was VI Degrees, where I likely had my last Randy Watson. Nate, Lindsay and Fred are no longer affiliated, so I see no reason why to go all the way over there and then to drive all the way to North Ave for the rest of our Thursday night. Sad! Oh well. We'll survive (and probably better off, haha). Anyway, I had my last Randy, and we moved on.... Met up with LL at Vitucci's.

We had our obligatory shot of Uncle Pat Ron, and then went to Cush.

At Cush, we did some shots.... Had a couple drinks. I learned how to play that elusive and absurd bar dice game that has been the end of me on numerous occasions, including but not limited to the wifebeater bar crawl!

Then on to Decibel. O.D. was there and provided tons of dictuary material. I guess at some point I had better blog and explain the dictuary, eh? That will go on my list right when I am done with this one!

Anyway, a couple of martinis later, and we were at Ma Fischer's, where of course we ran into Rob Villanueva (he is at Ma's every time my mom comes!) and a man who claimed he was also Rob Villanueva, and that there are 4 Rob Villanuevas. Absurd.

The next day was an enormous struggle. Reverse eating and everything. WAY worse than New Year's Day. Who gets in worse shape on a random Thursday with her mom than on NYE? Brutal. I guess I do!

Speaking of NYE..... This blog is going to be similar to the St. Patrick's Day one from last year. I guess that's what happens when you have more pictures than memories.

Ugh! I don't know why it made that a link, too! Lame.

Anyway, it was my New Year's resolution this year to take more pictures, and to blog more. That first one is going to be a little bit of a challenge for now, which I will get to, but hopefully I will be able to pull it and blog a couple times a week. That'll sure make Mamalicious happy!

So of course we went to Decibel for our celebration. I don't really know who I was kidding when I was considering celebrating elsewhere. Ah well. I don't think anyone believed I'd be anywhere else, to be honest!

By the way, as we go along, the photos are going to get progressively less attractive. Why don't you go ahead and grab a bottle of your favorite spirit (haha) and imbibe a shot or two every couple pictures. Then you'll have your beer (or non-beer, if you are like me) goggles, and we'll look glorious. Sound like a plan? Good deal!

Shortly after our arrival and part of the hello tour, but not before getting our drinks, of course (I'm having a water.... <---LIE!), we had Geno take a picture of the three of us. We wanted to capture ourselves before the shit hit the fan and we looked like we went through hell and back. Here it is!



Soon after, we ran into Katie. Funny thing about Katie is that whenever we actually make an effort to hang out (aside from being in fashion shows together), it doesn't work. We pretty much only hang out when we randomly run into each other, and of course this happened on New Year's Eve.




Isn't she gorgeous? People who wear red dresses on NYE know what's up.

And of course, there was the necessity of the obligatory roommate picture. It would be full-lenght, if I wasn't so damn tall. I guess that's what happens when you are 6'11".



Keep in mind that I had both my New Year's Resolution in mind, as well as the fact that I knew that I was going to get less attractive as the night wore on. HAD to take a buttload of pictures right away! Plus, we've never taken a picture with Trey. So we did!

Soon after the pic with Trey, the clock struck twelve. We did the champagne toast, but not until after the good luck kiss at midnight.... Wouldn't want to have bad luck in 2007!

A few minutes before midnight, I decided that it would be best for Danielle, LL, and I to just all kiss each other. It was determined that we did not need vultures, and that they may swoop in and swoop out, but us three would always have each other. So we did a triple kiss.

I know. Hot! Haha.

Then, of course, we did the champagne.

Now. First of all, I want you to note my girls double fisting. That's why they're my girls!

Second, I want you to look at the champagne flutes. One might think that Danielle, who is one of the littlest adults I know, was given a smaller dose (dose? Really?) of champagne.

But then, of course, one would be wrong. We all had evenly full glasses. Danielle just happened to pound three quarters of a glass as though it were a shot. Well done, my love!

So then we got restless on the Decibel side and decided to go over to Deep Bar, where we ran into one of our favorite people to walk the earth, Dustin.

Here we are!

And of course, LL needed to get in on the action with our #1 glove!

Awww.

Also on the Deep Bar side was my fiance, Arinze.

Now, the reason he became my fiance is because of his amazing hugs (haha). Although he did withhold them from me at first, he did not disappoint.

Looks like I'm wearing a giant Badger sweatshirt or something! Haha.

And here we are again....

And, still on the Deep Bar side, I had to get a picture with JC... (It's all starting to get fuzzy here. Not very clear memories!)

I absolutely LOVE our expressions. Goofasses!

Back over to Decibel side, and Danielle says she is not drunk. Well, LL and I are. F. I think I am two shots ahead of Danielle (one of Pat Ron from Dustin, who was celebrating his golden birthday, and one from D'Araun - aka D'Arachnid - while we were waiting for drinks. LL was the shot of D'Arachnid up). So, I thought Danielle should do two shots to our one, to even things up. She said she wanted to let go and have fun on New Year's Eve!

We went to see Shawn, and order shots. Thought I'd include the lovely bar staff who served us so well the second half of 2007, which meant that I should probably be getting Rumple Mintz. That is what Shawn likes!

Maybe a little too much.... Haha.

This next one....

Well, like I said, a little fuzzy. It's hard to say. Maybe Danielle right after the second shot? Who knows what I was trying to get there. Fiff.

There are few people (aside from employees) who spend as much time at Decibel as we do. One of said individuals is Amber. So we took a picture with her!

LOVE her dress! Don't know where her partner in crime, Erin, is. Hmm!

Must've decided I wasn't taking enough pictures, because here's one of LL and Danielle! Yes yes, I am the lucky lady who got to kiss these babes at midnight. Holla!

And then another one with Danielle and Arinze. She seems a little scared of him. Or maybe she's scared of the girl over her shoulder?

Funny thing is, Arinze looks hammered in that picture, but ol' boy doesn't drink. Absurdity.

I guess at some point, we saw Kenny. Neither Kenny, nor I, recollect the below picture being taken.

But there I am, doing that weird thing with my hand again. It was last seen on my birthday, in the pictures with Curti and Broseph.... I wish I had an explanation. I don't.

Speaking of not having an explanation... What in hell is going on right there? Hmmm....

At risk of sounding really creepy, for some reason, whenever I get a few cocktails in me, I molest CL Seth. He's only 18!!! He could've been in my classes. CREEPY. Anyway. Here we are. Oh, and by "molest" I really only mean rub the top of his head, because he buzzes it, and it feels cool.

And I guess on NYE, it also meant to grab his tie for a picture. I swear that's all that ever happens, though! I'm pretty sure I've never even grabbed his butt, and I have a propensity for butt-grabbing! And boy, oh boy, do I look good there? Good, as well as sober. Fiff. Poor CL Seth.

And then we saw Ell. Well, at least it seems as though we did, since there are pictures of us with him. And by "pictures," I mean "one picture," since that is all there actually is.

I am not really sure if what I am doing to him is a reprise of the tie-grabbing with Seth, or if it is an extension of that weird aforementioned hand thing I do, projected onto an innocent bystander. Who knows? "Not I," said the fly.

And of course, the last picture taken on my camera that night (and for awhile) is of my partner in crime, LL, and I.

Lookin' good!

Now, of course, at such a fly place on such a fly night, there's going to be a bit of media coverage. Evidently, both Milwaukee Scene and Milwaukee Nights were there, as well as several other hots spots throughout the city. It was nice to be able to check out what other people I knew were doing.

Anyway, the funny thing about the whole deal with those website people being there, is that I remember talking to the Milwaukee Scene guy, because we had met a few times before.... I knew he was Josh, couldn't remember which site he was from, and figured I'd be able to tell by looking at the pictures.

The Milwaukee Nights ones were up first.... I looked, and there were pictures of us. BUT, the catch is, they weren't as I remembered the ones from that guy Josh taking. So confusing!

Then I checked Milwaukee Scene, and there we were!

So... This one, we remember...

The ones below, however, we do not. What?

I think I actually was introduced to the Milwaukee Nights dude at Cush one time, but I am not positive. I get introduced to a lot of people at that place that will never remember me, and that I likely won't remember. Especially not coming out on NYE.

Anyway, we decided that we were going to go home a bit, nap, then come back for the Decibel after party thing at 5am. We have no idea at what time we made this decision. Word on the street is that we left my tab open, since we were coming back, and went to Ma's.

Next thing I know, we're all on LL's couch. I keep saying "Chi Hua Hua," asking for eye drops, and talking about how my mouth tastes like garbage.

I can't wait to see the pictures from the night before, but to my dismay, my camera will not turn on.

Brutality!

I hand it over to LL, who uses her technological prowess to determine that the issue lies in the fact that my camera lacks a battery.

What?

What in hell happened to my battery?

We may never know.

Who loses just the battery to her camera?

That'd be me.

Hopefully, that is all that the issue is. My new battery should be on its way, as I already ordered it (I am determined to stick to this New Year's Resolution like I have the one that made me decide years ago that I don't turn down shots, ever). I am a little nervous that something else happened and that the only issue isn't the lost battery, but we shall see soon!

Alright, that about covers New Year's Eve, and my first blog of 2008. I still have to finish that one I started on 12/07/07. I am determined to do such things before 01/07/08!

Happy New Year!

OH! And by the way.... Now that it is after midnight (which makes it technically January 5th, although I am of the belief that the date doesn't change until I wake up on the new day), it is officially Vulture Day! Ok, it's actually Bird Day. But come on... Same shit, different pile. If it has wings and isn't an angel or butterfly, it's a damn vulture!

Aloha & Manastacia: Reunited & it Feels so Good! (And the History of the Armanian Empire!)

This past Saturday, I had a pleasant blast from the past.


My Junior and Senior years of college, I lived with two girls, Laura and Amie. I knew Laura from highschool, and Amie I met through Laura. I am going to take this moment to mention the fact that both Amie and Laura are married now, and that makes me feel weird, because I still feel like I am 19 years old with a fake ID.


Anyway, this past Saturday, Amie came up to visit. I hadn't seen her in almost a year, and we hadn't necessarily done an amazing time keeping in touch.

We were absurd in college. We'd go out a few nights a week, and once went about a month without spending more than two dollars the whole month on the drinks we'd imbibe. Holla.

We liked props. We'd bring out a tape recorder, and interview people. Or perhaps a microphone, and pretend Amie was an on-location reporter. "Back to the studio, Stacy!"

We also liked aliases. I know that Amie had been Leslie a few times, and many people were calling me "Mandelicious" even then. But our best aliases came about from the purhcases of some really tacky initial necklaces. When we wore the necklaces, she became "Aloha," and I "Manastascia." Yes, I am aware that my alias sounds like the stage name of a drag queen stripper. Deal with it. You'd be surprised at how many people believed that shit!


After she arrived, we discussed the plan. We were to go out to eat, go to the Marquette game, then go out to a few bars.... This presented outfit challeges. Amie likened what she was to be doing to superman changing. I called it awards show changing. Either way, we were going to have to change our outfits a few times. I wish we would've taken more pictures! We should've captured all of our outfits. Oh well!


So we put on our dinner outfits. We met Danielle outside of Murphy's, where I left my car. Danielle then drove us to the restaurant.


Let me just tell you that the freaking waitress had to have thought we were crackheads. This cute little girl had to come back at least four times before we could even decide what crazy drinks we'd like to enjoy over dinner. I had to tell Amie the Vegas story and the story of my interactions with the terrorists (which Danielle helped me to tell). Plus, the drink menu was written in a fairly humorous manner, so we were enjoying that too much to focus on what the actual drinks were, and what we wanted. Poor girl!


We ate our meals and drank our drinks. Amie drinks like a damn fish. I have never seen someone inhale a beverage in such a way. She drinks sooooo fast! It's absurd. She finished her first drink within five minutes. It was an impressive feat. Unbelievable, really.



After dinner, the cute little waitress returned to tell us that our desserts were being paid for by one of the owners, and that the special was "vulture cake with swoop swoop sauce." I felt so bad for this girl for having to come and say that to us! I almost died laughing. My face hurt by the time we left the restaurant because I had been laughing so hard I was crying the whole meal. I barely even ate because I was cracking up the whole time. Made for good leftovers!



Next event was the Marquette game, so we changed clothes in the car, and Danielle dropped us off at the game. Time to sober up a little! Our seats were great (Thanks, Ousmane!).... Section 200, Row D, seats 9 & 10. That's half court. Amie was hilarious. She mentioned that she had seen video clips of Tom Crean yelling on tv, and now she could hear him!



Game was entertaining, as usual. I was quite disappointed, however, that Ousmane didn't start.... I love hearing "At 6'10" from Dakar, Senegal.... Oooooooooousmane Barrrro!" Maybe next time. He's in Maui now. I am jealous.



Anyway, after the game, we took the bus back to the Annex, and walked across the street to Murphy's, where my car was parked. I knew that Buddha was supposed to be working, so we thought we'd pop in.



To our surprise, Parker from Decibel and his friend Matt were standing at the end of the bar. Fancy that! And Joe, the manager, was working as well. It was practically a Tuesday night at Decibel, except.... Well, it wasn't really like that at all. Haha.



Anyway, Parker informed us that we had been on the jumbotron at the Marquette game. Awesome. I hope that I wasn't doing anything stupid. I really have to be cognizant of the possibility of jumbotron action when I am sitting in the family section!



We had a couple drinks and did a couple shots, then Buddha showed up, and we had some more. Buddha was Buddha, and it was hilarious. Amie showed again her striking abilities of being able to pound drinks. Joe even remarked - "damn, girl, you thirsty?" Hilarious.

After Murphy's, it was awards show/superman time again. We went home and spiced things up, spruced up, if you will (and I know you will!).

Next stop was Cush, which was a good time. That place is starting to grow on me, I think. It was here that we were informed that we drink high-maintenance drinks, because they stop the flow of drink-making because they are bizarre and out of reach of the bartender.

44 North and Sprite and Malibu and Coke? Really? Bizarre. When you see me coming, move the bottle into the flow! Haha.

Anyway, after our drink at Cush, we of course moved on to Decibel.

By the way, I am having an almost impossible time focusing on the task at hand, which is blog-writing. I'm pretty sure it's the third day I've come back to it. Fiff. I need to lock it up.

Decibel was a glove as usual. We said his, and I made about a billion introductions. We met up with the Prince.... There will be more about him and such later.

We did some drinking, obviously, and did some shot-taking.... You know the deal.

At one point, in VIP, we were talking to Hen (see the blog about the wifebeater bar crawl) when suddenly Amie pulled out her recorder. Yes, that's right, her recorder. And no, I don't know why this whole thing is a link. I only wanted it to be the part that is in the parentheses. This is pretty damn intense.

So yeah. Woohoo! No more link! I never claimed to be a computer genius.

Yeah, so Amie pulled out this recorder and just starts playing right in the club. Hilarious. Hen was agog. Just loved it.

Back by the Prince.... Picture time!

Here's Amie and I....





When I introduced her to Dustin, he said that he could tell that we caused a lot of trouble in college. I have no idea what he is talking about. Look at us! We practically have halos! Just beeming with innocence (ignore the fact that I look hammered).

Next it was time to take a pic with the Prince...




Wow. That is a... really nice picture. Umm... Notice the green star on his left shoulder? I had decided that since I am a teacher, I was going to bring out foil stars and give them to deserving individuals. Amie kicked it up a notch and more or less covered some people, like Scooter, with them.

Whilst the camera was out, Amie suggested that we take a picture of the fine fellow with the nice abs. I think the point was actually to capture the abs themselves.... So back to Arinze we went....




For the love of people with functional eyes, Arinze, would it kill you to do a crunch or sit-up now and then? I mean, come on. That is just shameful. Haha.

I think poor Arinze is blushing here.

Moving on.... When I came back from taking the picture of Arinze, the Prince told me that Shawn had refused to pour us the royal shot. He was quite disappointed, so I went to go see what's up.

When I walked to the bar, before I could say anything to him at all, Shawn said, "Mandie, I am not pouring six shots of triple sec."

Shawn, I do not blame you. Also, I must say that it is entirely too funny to me that every time I try to type your name, I accidentally type "Shaqn" because I am so used to typing about Shaq, apparently. I need to pull my life together.

Anyway, I really don't know what self-respecting bartender would just pour a bunch of shots of triple sec. Especially without a good explanation, which is what Shawn asked for.

By the way, I am considering just leaving the name wrong here. Haha.

I promised Shawn that I would explain the story to him. Obviously it wouldn't have been easy to do in Decibel on a Saturday night, so I figured I'd put it in a blog and send him the link.

There wasn't a whole lot to the rest of the night. We met up with LL after the bar was closed and went to Ma's where I threw a lil fit because I couldn't enjoy any Cream of Chicken and Rice soup.

So here's the story. The history of the Armanian Empire, and how Triple Sec became our royal shot.

My sophomore year of college, I began dating Mike. He was a bit of a bullshitter. Totally made up absurd things. For example, I recall a scenario in which he convinced a friend that he was allegic to ice cubes. This went down whilst he stood in a swimming pool. What?

Anyway, the summer before junior year, he moved from the dorms into a shithole. I mean, into a house. He had 6 other roommates. I knew most of them, either from having gone to high school with Danielle and Mike (I met Mike through Danielle, so I knew a lot of these people for awhile), or from hanging out with them when I visited Mike in Milwaukee in the dorms.

There was, however, one roommate that I did not know at all. That was Matt.

Matt's grandpa lived in the Philippines, and apparently was a big deal. I'm told he is like a Hilton over there, and that when Matt visits, he is treated like a Prince.... They iron his socks and underwear and such.

Anyway, I still swear to this day that Mike told me that Matt WAS the prince of some foreign land. I take full credit for having perhaps forgotten which land he mentioned, and just deciding at some later point that it was Armenia.

So life moved on, and I just was kinda scared of Matt. I was a little more shy at this point than I am now. I just observed.

The types of things I observed were that Matt rarely went to class, wore expensive clothes, did not seem to have a job, did a lot of poker playing with serious amounts of money (to my poor ass, haha) both online and in casinos, and that he spent money like it was his job - buying shots and rounds of drinks like crazy, buying me food at Michael's and Omega in the middle of the night, etc.

Anyway, a year and a half goes by, and I barely talk to Matt. The entire time, I think he's the prince of Armenia. Absurd, yes, I know.

I just figured it was like... Coming to America. My favorite movie! Matt just wanted to live in a rat-infested (no, that is not an exaggeration) shithole for a couple years while he did the college thing and checked out America before he went back to Armenia to rule on his throne.

Oy. I'm sounding like a moron here, aren't I?

So I'm talking to Mike, like a year and a half into these guys living together, and I confess that I thought that Matt was the prince of Armenia. He just started cracking up, and he told me that this was not the case, and he denied that he had ever made such a claim. I'd like to say for the record that his claim that he didn't make the claim is an erroneous fabrication. Wait, what?

A couple nights later, I am down from Madison visiting, and I drunkenly start confessing to Matt, who I am practically talking to for the first time, that I'd been thinking that he was the prince of Armenia for almost two years.

Hilarious.

So the night rolls on, and when we're driving from the bars to Omega, Matt is yelling out of Steve's (who would later be known as Oha, just like the guy from Coming to America. And yes, we do tell him to do stuff and say Oha and then clap twice) sunroof to his people. Saying "Helloooo!" in a regal way to passersby on the sidewalk. Absurd.

Later that night, Matt and I would bond by me sitting on his lap in Eric's room and me seeing my first few seconds of porn, the Paris Hilton video, whilst sitting on his lap. Yeah. Kinda weird, but whatever. Also notable is that at Omega, we bet Eric that he couldn't eat everyone's (there were like 8 of us) garnishes in under three minutes. He did it in like thirty seconds, but was fooled into believing that he was just a little too slow and that he'd have to buy lunch for everyone. He was so sad and disappointed! Hilarious.

Anyway, that's about all there is to the story of that night.

Months lated, a bunch of us went to Florida after we all graduated. One of Mike's roommates, Frank, had a timeshare in his family, and for graduation, he got it for a week for us.



There's a group picture of everyone that made the trip, minus the goat (Winston) that was purchased and returned after it made horrible noises all night. The prince is the second from the left, Eric (we'll get to him in a second) is front and center with the red hat, and I am all the way to the right, with my ex, Mike. I was pretty much accustomed to being the only girl (or in this case, one of the only girls) in a group of a billion guys. I guess I just get along well with boys. Don't know why. Because I love basketball and hate drama? I dunno.

The trip was an absurdity. We were quite focused on one thing.

And that thing was drinking.

Here's what the refrigerator looked like when I arrived.



As you see, the only food in it is a can of parmesan cheese. Don't get me wrong, we definitely ate, but that was not the focus. Funny how I don't remember where the food was kept, though, ha. Also, keep in mind that things such as Tequila were in the freezer, and that several trips were made to the liquor and grocery stores on St. George Island that week.

It was just before one such trip that a big change was made. We were all sitting around, when I hear Matt say something. He said some sort of name at the beginning of the sentence that was not mine, so I didn't really pay attention. It was at that point that Mike said, "I really don't think you should ignore the Prince when he is talking to you."

Whaaaaaaaat?

Matt repeated himself, and said "I asked if you needed anything from the liquor store, Princess."

Princess?

I am not really a girly girl, so I am pretty sure that I had never been called princess before, by anyone except for my grandpa. Matt said that since he was the Prince, I'd be the Princess. Works for me, I guess!

Anyway, over the course of the week, we developed a royal family. We decided that Eric would be our jester, because he is hilarious. He re-named himself the Butt Jester, because one of his nicknames is Buttram, because of his last name.

The three of us became pretty close, as though we weren't already. We just were kinda all on the same page. The Butt Jester and I had a weird relationship that involved a lot of cuddling. Yes, I cuddled frequently with my ex's roommate, and my ex didn't care. Like I said, it was weird. He was a good cuddler, though.

Anyway, when the last night of the trip rolled around, many people were tired. Their need to party had been met. They did not have the insatiable desire to party that Matt, Eric, and I shared. So the last night, when everyone was trying to sleep, we were trying to make sure that no alcohol was left behind. Isn't that some kind of legislature that Bush has been trying to get goin'? Oh, no, that's No Child Left Behind. And, for the record, it's stupid. But I digress.

We had been going through the alcohol, and finally, we were almost done. Our game of "Drinking Dredle" (Which is AWESOME, and really needs to be played again) had done a serious number on the supply of alcohol, as did the casual drinking of the week. Guess what was left?

Triple Sec.

I was really into Margaritas at this point (yes, it is supposed to be capitalized), and we had nothing left but triple sec. During our poker playing, the Butt Jester made us special cups (giant styrofoam ones) that said "Prince," "Princess," and "Butt Jester" on them. Awesome.

And, as the night went on, he kept pouring giant "shots" of triple sec into them. We were the only three people doing it.

We then decided that that would be the royal shot. There were three of us, hence the triple. And, well, we didn't have a choice.

So there it is. The story of how the Armanian (we changed the spelling) Empire was formed. The story of how I became the Princess (and yes, it still catches people off guard when they see on Matt's phone that I've sent a text and find out that it's not his girlfriend, Cari, who is one of my best friends, but rather me who is called "Princess" in his phone). And the story of how Triple Sec became our royal shot, and a little justification as to why I got so many bottles of triple sec for my graduation party (and why my mom bought a couple bottles of it for us to drink at said party). There's still a bottle on the party cart!

No, it does not taste good. No, it does not really have much alcohol in it (less than wine, haha). But yes, it has sentimental value. And yes, it almost always illicits a hilarious reaction from the bartenders we ask when the whole group of us needs to do the shot. Usually, people don't even know what to charge us, then they get the managers and ask them, and we usually get it free because it's so weird.

"I'm gonna need eight shots of triple sec please...."

Either I got thrown out of a moving van by terrorists, or...

(And let me clarify that I mean a van that is in motion, not like.... a U-Haul or something. But hey, I guess it could be a U-Haul. I mean, what the hell do I know? I do know that the van {be it a movingvan or a moving van} was certainly located at some point down by the river! {Watch this video if that reference is going over your head}).

OR, I had a drunken altercation with the pavement and lost.

Thursday night was a roller coaster.

On one hand, I went out in high spirits, because I knew that I didn't have school on Friday, so I was pumped!

On the other hand, I was a little upset, thinking about John going to Iraq soon and me seeing him for the last time before he leaves the next day.

And then I got really excited, because Lers was going to make a rare trip out.... I met up with her and AC Gilman at Taylor's at like 11. For me, going out before midnight = satan. You'll see why.

So I was all pumped about Lers coming out.... And as LL and I went through our first and only drink with Lers (double vanilla vodka and sprite), we began to notice that she was hammered. Then I got a phone call that I had to take outside. When I came in, Lers told me that she wasn't feeling well (she had been celebrating AC's new job/drinking for 6 hours) and since she rarely goes out, this was not a surprise. I told her as much, and she straight up started crying! Then she and AC left, and she cried on the way home! I felt so bad, and even after LL assured me that I was my normal self and not mean, and that Lers was just over-reacting because of her being hammered, I still had it on my mind.

Thursday's holiday was "No Beard Day," and since I hate facial hair, I had been getting on many of my friend's cases who have facial hair. One such individual was Fred, who we see on Thursday nights at VI Degrees.

When we went to such a place, and went up into the DJ Booth (which is more or less a vulture perch at this place!), I discovered that Fred had shaven his off. AND, he wore a shirt that said "Let's Hug it Out!" I love hugs! This definitely put the roller coaster on an uphill climb.



Next stop was Vitucci's, where we (and this now includes Danielle, and obviously Vitucci, who was working) did a shot of Pat Ron. Oh, that bastard Uncle Pat Ron! He hasn't been too nice to me of late!

After that, we went to Cush, where we had jager bombs, and a tall 44 North and Sprite (fave drink).

Next stop was Decibel. Apparently (as I don't remember really), we had 3 tickled pinks (all drinks = each, although not always with Danielle, as she was driving designatedly), and SEVERAL shots, mostly of Pat Ron. Fiff.

Then we went to Ma Fischer's, where I THOROUGHLY enjoyed some Cream of Chicken and Rice soup (Love it), which I actually remember a second of, and grilled cheese (as usual).

Next thing I know (as I said in my last blog), I woke up wearing just my skirt, underwear, and all my jewelery. Oh yeah. And seven or so bandaids. As you can see in the following pictures, which were taken Friday morning, my sheets were covered in blood.




That yellow body pillow is my boyfriend, or so I say. He cuddles with me nightly. =) I'm sad that I bled on him, though. It came out, though. Out of the sheets, too! Holla!

There's the pile o'bandaids. Hot, right?

There's my left knee. As you can see, it sustained a little bit of scrapage. Looks worse now, as the scrape scabbed, and there is a bruise around it. I know you're probably getting aroused just thinking about it! Freak. Just kidding. Haha!

The picture above, as well as the next three below are of my stigmata hands. These too look worse now, although they feel a lot better, because they are at least starting to scab. I took the pictures with the jeans later in the day, as I thought that the stigmata was more visible then!

It especially sucked at the Badger game, though, because I couldn't even high five! I had to high three, or high four! That shit hurt!

Ok, below is my sexy knee. I call the left one the pretty one, and the right one the sexy one. Teehee.

Yep! I sure did a number on them! Best part is, I was convinced that I did not need to wipe them down or put a band-aid on them. I told Danielle it was unnecessary, that they didn't hurt, and that I was tired and just wanted to go to bed.

She finally showed me that I had blood running all the way down to my shoe (which does have a stain from a literal pool of blood in it), and that I absolutely needed band-aids. I apparently told her that I did not need bandaids on my knees, just my hands. Evidentally, when my hands came into question, I actually requested bandaids. My reason was that I didn't want to get blood on my sheets. When Danielle was trying to wipe me down on my other injuries, which was right knee before the hands and left knee after, I told her that I didn't need bandaids, because a couple days before then, I napped with someone who had recently shaved his head, and left a few tiny (and I mean tiny) spots of blood on my sheets.

Apparently, I thought the knee wounds I had were comparable with the nicks (or knicks) my friend had sustained with the head shaving. Completely absurd.

So yeah. There you have it.

Alright, the reason I did this blog tonight was so that I could give the wound on my knee a bit of time to air out.... It would still bleed on my sheets (as it did in Chicago on Friday - oops!), so I can only air it out for now when it isn't going to be touching my pants or linens (that's for you, D!).

Hopefully I won't be having any more "seven bandaid nights" anytime soon!

Holla!