How many licks?

So I'm procrastinating on correcting papers. I am going to write this blog, then work out (I'm guessing at midnight?) then shower THEN grade some papers. Who thinks I am actually going to grade A paper, much less several, this evening? Hmmm....

Anyway, I want to start out this story with a little anecdote about my grandmother. In the last blog, I mentioned about my mom saying that she said the f-word.

Well, I had been expecting that she was going to tell me that grandma had said it quoting someone else, or involved in some ridiculous story about someone else or something.

Not so.

Apparently, it was just some lame, offensive and non-pc joke!

Evidently, my dear sweet grandma-ma was telling some joke about how "Indians" name their babies by looking at what is going on around them. What I am told, was that she said that names are chosen that way, and that exampls were "Hawk-fly-low" or "Two-Deer-Fucking."

Whaaaaaaaat?!

Anyway, so that was pretty much the shock of my life. Apparently my mom has only heard my grandma use the "f-word" twice in her 47 years of life. I've only heard my mom say the f-word twice, too. Ok, that's not true at all.

Moving on.

So last night I decided to stay in. I've had a rough week and have been in a terrible mood a lot of it, especially the last 36 or so hours. So, I decided the best option would be for me to go to bed early. So I did.

At about 445am, the freaking fire alarm went off. So annoying! Best part, however, is that as I am exiting my apartment into the hallway, this guy walking out of the apartment next to me says, "What is this a fire drill? I feel like I am back in prison!"

Awesome. I'm happy to living next to you, Ex-con.

Moving on again.... (Haha, this blog has no attention span.)

So I decided to cheer myself up, I'd make the drive down to Ray-town and get myself a Kewpee cheeseburger (or two). Well, Kewpee's was closed. This really made my hand cold*. So I thought I'd go to my second choice, which was Rosie's. Nope. Closed. Third choice is The Farm. Also closed. So then I thought I'd try Caesar's. Guess what? That is now a Mexican Restaurant. Sweet. I ended up driving 45 minutes to eat Culver's. How lame is that? My hand was freezing*.

So I ate my Culver's and went to see my Mom and Marv. Whilst there on the porch, we started talking about my roommates, past and present, and how I grateful I am to have D, who is an amazing roommate. This is especially relevant when we consider the girl I lived with as well the first year that I lived with Danielle, who was named Abbey.

She was insane. Literally.

One time the three of us went down to U of I for a weekend to go to the Badger game, and to make a long story short, she decided we had to either leave at three o'clock in the morning or find our own rides back up to Madison. Basically, she didn't like the way Danielle's friends were treating her (read: they weren't giving her enough attention or kissing her ass). This is absurd, because Danielle is one of the nicest girls in the United States and doesn't really associate with douchebags, for the most part (haha).

Haha, anyway, the conversation shifted a bit to Abbey's exboyfriend, Ryan, who we called Tootsie Pop.

This is because ol' boy was about 5'11" and 45 pounds. I am pretty sure that about 25 of these pounds were allocated to this unfortunate-looking man's head.

He was stick thin, and had the biggest melon on record. More or less, he looked like a tootsie pop.

When we start talking about him, my mom says, "Did I tell him that he looked like a tootsie pop?"

I do not even know why she asked such an absurd question.... Of course she did. My mom is even more brutally honest than I am!

But more about Tootsie Pop....

This man was such a joke!

He was the manager of Men's Wearhouse. He actually transferred from the one in Minneapolis to come live nearer to Abbey, who regularly dated several gentlemen simultaneously.

She was so brutal about him, too, because she hated that he was such a pushover. I guess it's easy to push someone over when they weigh 45 pounds and over half of these pounds are cranium.

She didn't like that she could push him around. She lost respect for him as a result, and thus was even more brutal to him than she would've been to a regular person (perhaps someone with an average-sized head?).

Anyway, I have no problem of purveyors of fine menswear, but this dude just reminded me of Ben Affleck's character in Mall Rats. The Casual Male guy. He took himself approximately that seriously. Bru-tality.

The best part, however, was that he participated in COMPETITIVE KARAOKE.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen. That is correct. COMPETITIVE KARAOKE.

He sings country songs in karaoke competitions. Hilarious.

So then back to the pushover thing....

Back in college, I wasn't good at sleeping either.

One night, I was up late as usual, when I started hearing weird noises from the living room.

Noises like "Ouch! Ouch! Stop hitting me!"

And weird phone beeps.

And slams.

As it turns out, for some reason, Abbey was beating the shit out of Tootsie Pop with the cordless phone, and she had to take him to the hospital after to see if his nose was broken.

The whole Quad-plex could hear this taking place. Absurd.

So my mom, Marv, and I were reminiscing about these shenanigans, and Marv says

"Perhaps she was trying to get to the creamy center!"

and then my mom says,

"How many licks with a phone does it take to get to the center of the Tootsie Pop?"

Oh hilarious.

So that was my afternoon.

Oh, and by the way, Mom, I looked at the geoducks. Those are some hideous and phallic-looking creatures! And I'll be damned if they don't live for a century and a half!!!

Alright, I should probably get to working out and such....

By the way, Chevy Chase turned 64 and Paul Hogan (Crocodile Dundee!) turns 68 today, October 8th.

For the record, Dirty Work is one of Chevy Chase's best movies. And the sequel to Crocodile Dundee can whoop the first one's ass.

And, here's a weird ass video. I love it. I watch it all the time!

Try to wrap your mind around that one!

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

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

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

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

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

I sheepishly told her that it was not school supplies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the cute lap picture.....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Haha.

In stereo with a cute little delay.

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

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

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

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

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

Obviously.

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

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

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

That was a long ass day!

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

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

Love you!

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

"I own half of this place."

Two in one day? I know. The world might explode. Hopefully not, though, because as I mentioned, I am really looking forward to going out tonight.

Anyway, this blog might be one of those stories that you just had to be there for. But then again, it might not. You tell me.

So my favorite bar/club in Milwaukee is Decibel/DeepBar. This is not a secret. In fact, I probably go there a good 3-4 times/week. Hopefully they aren't going to start charging me rent.

Anyway, when you frequent an establishment, you start getting to know the employees at such a place, as well as other regulars.

So, Saturday, I spent the day in Chicago with Christina, a Decibel regular. It was a ton of fun, and totally random. She just called me in the morning and asked if I wanted to go to Chicago. I asked to do what, and she said whatever. We drove on down, got pedicures, went to the Art Institute, did some shopping, had a nice dinner, and fed about 5 homeless people. All in all, it was a great Saturday!

When I got back to Milwaukee, I took a little nap, and then LL and I went to Cush to say hi, had a drink (VIP treatment, too, holla! haha).... From Cush, we obviously went to Decibel. It was a good night, as usual.

Near the end of the night, we were standing by the back bar, which is where we are usually to be found, when a man.... Ok, not a man. A VULTURE came to holla. He was older, like 35 or 40.

I don't even remember him saying hi. All of the sudden, he just tells us that he owns the place.

"Oh really?!" I asked him.

He then explains that yes, he does in fact own the place.

I then told him that that was amazing, as I know all four of the owners.

He then tried to say that he actually owns half of the place, because they were having financial hardships a couple months back, so he bought it.

This was hilarious to me. I informed him that Decibel had only been open 5 months, that they were doing fine, and that there was no way he was going to convince me that he was one of the owners.

I am so mad at myself! There were so many better ways that I could've put this shameless vulture in his place, but in my shock and drunkeness, I wasn't able to.

Here are a couple examples of what I SHOULD have done.

I should have told him that I have a friend that really loves Decibel, and that he would love to meet the owner. I then should've taken this vulture by the hand and brought him straight up to one of the three owners that was there that night, and said, "________ (Dustin, JJ or Drew), I know you love Decibel, so I thought you'd like to meet this guy - he just told me he owns the place. Isn't that awesome?!"

That would've been ideal. It wouldn't have even been difficult to pull off. Damn, I am mad that I didn't do that!

Another one that would've been good would've been to ask him to identify the bartenders by first name, since I knew that it was Shawn and JC behind the bar we were nearest. That would've been awesome.

And damn, I should've asked him to comp a drink for me, to watch him talk to Shawn or JC as though he owned the place.

Oh well.

I did get some enjoyment, though, out of this.

Once the dude walked away (with his feathered tail between his legs), Shawn started cracking up.

"I heard that whole thing go down, and that shit was hilarious. That guy picked the wrong girls to say that to!"

Indeed, Shawn, he did indeed.

I can't wait to tell this story tonight....

But seriously, how shameless are some folks? I didn't even ask what the man did (I rarely do - doesn't matter that much to me), and he just offered me a flat out lie.

I wonder what he really did. Work at PDQ or something?

I guess I should look at it positively - LL and I are people that people are trying to impress, and our favorite place is somewhere that people pretend they own to impress people. Props all around, except to that douchebag!

Holla!

Lunchtime = over. Time to teach some 7th grade French Math!

Go shawty, it's your birfday....

Today's birthdays are spectacular, to say the least, and you better believe my ass will be at Decibel tonight celebrating....

The holiday is National Comic Book Day. That's kinda lame. But it is definitely compensated for by the fact that these precious gems will be celebrating their birthdays tonight, and LL and I will be celebrating right along with them....

Scottie Pippen. Ah, yes. I had quite a crush on this man. He even looks fly in his mugshot! Holla!

Cheryl Tiegs. She's 60. Damn. And yes, she made today's list just because she is in the Thanksgiving Song by Adam Sandler. Otherwise, I would not give a damn!

Michael Douglas..... I will wear some of the bottled version of you this evening in your honor. It's also your wife's birthday. How cute is that! You and Catherine Zeta-Jones (who is too fly for the list) can celebrate together. Awww....

By the way, also too fly for the list are Will Smith (hawt!) and Heather Locklear (Scha-wing!). Just sayin'.

Barbara Walters is 76. That is one hip, hip lady. A hip, chick, if you will, at 76!

Shel Silverstein! One of my favorite poets.... It would be his birthday today, if he were still alive! Love him....

And at midnight, which is likely to be before we go out anyway (we will have to celebrate the aforementioned birfdays retroactively)....

Yes, that's right. Olivia Newton John.

AND!

Linda Hamilton. Holla!

As some people know, I had a huge crush on Arnold Schwarzenegger growing up. That means I watched more than my fair share of the Terminator movies. It also means that I developed a girl-crush on Linda Hamilton, who became a hero of mine, once I saw how ripped she was in T2. DAY-UM!

I do not even know what sort of shot would be appropriate to honor such individuals. Rest assured, though, that I will be mulling it over the rest of the day.

Who wakes up on Sunday morning and can't wait for Tuesday night? WHO DOES THAT? I do.

This week is going to be weird.... For several reasons. First of all, LL is going to be going out of town Thursday - Sunday, which means that I won't be with my normal partner in crime on Thursday or this weekend.

Also, I am pretty sure that I am going to churn out three blogs this week, including this one. Maybe even four. Wowsers! No promises, though....

Alright, ya girl's hungry as a mo-fo! Time to go get some cousins!

Who does that?

Mama Seuss has e-mailed me and called me to inform that today marks one month since my last blog. I feel like it's confessional or something.... Although since I am not Catholic, I can't say that I really know what that's like. I feel like on TV and movies, the people say "somethin' somethin' somethin', and it's been ____ (length of time) since my last confessional."

Well, it's been one month since my last blog. I know, bru-tal. But let me tell you, it is difficult to blog when you have no job other than modeling and you have to go out to the bars every single night. Please take a couple minutes to feel sorry for me because of the brutal summer I've endured.

Ok, sympathy time over.

My motto for the summer, I think, has been, "Who does that?"

The response every time?

"I do."

That's right.

A couple weeks ago, I went to Vegas for the Lingerie Americas tradeshow.

A couple weeks before that, I was in NYC for the same show.... Here are a couple pictures from that trip that I took with a model who goes by "Acie." No, I am not naked. The photographer shopped off my strap.

Anyway, Vegas was absurd. I only gambled $1, and it wasn't even by choice.

Who goes to Vegas and only puts $1 in a slot machine? WHO DOES THAT?

I do, bitches!

Most of the time that I was there was spent working in the tradeshow. I know it sounds easy, but standing around in lingerie in a freezing cold ballroom is pretty tough, especially when you're only accustomed to sleeping late and laying around.

Getting to Vegas was a little brut. My flight was taking off at 6am on a Saturday morning. I decided the best plan of attack (P of A, if you will, and I know you will!) was to go to Decibel (obviously) and then to leave straight from there to go to O'Hare. Dustin even said I could put my luggage in the office. How sweet, right?!

Original plan was for me to stay sober and drive myself, but it ended up that my sweet lil roommate had to go to IL for a wedding anyway, so she stayed home whilst I got hammered with LL and her roommate Joee. Danielle then picked me up at about 3:30 and we made our way down to O'Hare.

I was a little nervous because I was totally hammered. I remembered kinda talking to Buddha on the phone during the trip. I also remember being upset because when Danielle picked me up, I asked her to take me to McDonald's to get a three cheeseburger meal, and they were only serving breakfast at that time. Bru-tality.

I changed clothes in Danielle's front seat, so as to not be on the plane looking like I was going out to Vegas to start a career as a prostitute. I didn't want to be the girl in the mini skirt on the 6am flight. At least not that day! Somehow in this shuffle, I left one of my favorite shoes in Danielle's car, so when I got to Vegas, it was minus a stiletto.

Tried to go to the McDonald's in O'Hare, but the same breakfast-only struggle was in full effect. I decided that I Should eat anyway, to avoid hangover, so I got a cinnamon roll. I couldn't even enjoy it, because it wasn't a cheeseburger.

I love cheeseburgers. The only person I know that loves cheeseburgers more than me is Lers. She even has a tshirt that says "I <3>

Lers responded, "Yes, I am making a statement. The statement is, 'if you have a cheeseburger, hand it over.'"

Goodness gracious, I love that girl. Even more than I love cheeseburgers. Haha.

Anyway, back to the story.... I was so nervous at the airport. Paranoid. I was confessing to the woman in line in front of me for security that I was very very drunk. Heehee.

Once I got on the plane, I was out, which was a miracle, because I think I was sitting in the middle. Or maybe the aisle? Who knows. I just know I didn't have anything to lean on.

Woke up, got off the plane, and was still drunk. It was like 9am Vegas time, 11am Milwaukee time.

I called my traveling companions, who were driving in from Wisconsin, and they said they were an hour away, which I know really means three hours away. So I decided to sit in the airport awhile, since I figured that that would be the place I would look most normal sitting around with a lime green suitcase.

I talked on the phone for awhile, and then got bored with the airport.

At this point, I would kill a man for a cheeseburger.

Not a lie.

Anyway, I take a shuttle over to the Venetian, and sit around there on the phone, waiting more for my traveling companions. I don't think I ever got a cheeseburger the whole time I was in Vegas, but I did when I got back!

Most of the rest of the time in Vegas was pretty uneventful. Went out for some nice dinners, did a moderate amount of drinking.... Tradeshow a lot....

Then came the last night.

First on the agenda after we took down the tradeshow stuff was to go to a couple other tradeshows, such as the Storerotica show. This is just like it sounds. It is a tradeshow where exhibitors present their products to adult stores.

That started off with us getting free samples of a very genius product, which was a margarita popsicle which contained tequila. Yum yum! We then were offered other interesting samples, such as samples of organic lube (apparently a recipe that is over 100 years old - wahoo!), and pens advertising different companies such as twisted cherry. We were even given capsules, which were apparently supposed to enhance mood, energy level, and sexual performance. I don't know about you, but I am not the type of girl to just take any random pills that some chick in a corset and thong hands over to you, even if said pills are a pretty purple color that perfectly matches the chick's corset (haha).

There were some interesting people at such a convention, including (but not limited to) prostitutes, porn stars and no shortage of dirty old men. Perfect!

Downstairs from this classy event was the "Gentleman's Club Owner Convention." There were some classy individuals wandering around for that, too, as I am sure you can imagine. And apparently, later, Ron Jeremy was supposed to be handing out some kind of awards for exotic dancers or something. What an honor!

After these fun situations, we decided we were famished. So a big group of us went together to a buffet, which was glorious. MmmmMmmmm. I ate a lot. That's all there really needs to be said about that, haha.

Then we decided we were going to have a drink or two, after a little gambling. I decided instead to socialize with my traveling companions, as it were, so I sat in front of a slot machine without really gambling, until one of my friends told me to put a dollar in. I wasn't feeling that machine, so I knew it wasn't going to go well. It didn't. Oh well, only $1! And, I'll have you know, the only dollar I gambled. Or at least I am pretty sure that that was all I gambled.

Oh well. From there, it was time to go and have a few drinks. It was at this point that I introduced a few people to one of my drinks of choice, which was a vanilla vodka and Sprite. YUM! They loved it. We had several.

Then I joked about how it was time for shots.... JOKED! Well, that wasn't a joke long, and soon there was my crazy Uncle Pat Ron, who always comes around and makes things a little crazy. This time was no exception.

Here's a snapshot of the carnage..... Mind you, this is four adults drinking.

After all that, we decided to part ways to our hotel rooms. It was about 2am. So I quickly packed up my neon lime green rolling suitcase (which is small enough to be a carry-on), and changed from a "going out" shirt to an "I <3>

So I bid my traveling companions adieu and went downstairs to the casino, mind on gambling.

Well, apparently, I didn't get the memo that says if you walk around Vegas in a denim mini skirt and "I <3>

The next thing I knew, I was in Denver.

Not a lie.

One minute I am in the casino, thanking some random dude for a shot of Patron, and the next minute I am waking up on a plane in Denver.

At this point, I have no idea how I got to the airport (my wallet was not missing any money at all). I have no idea how I got my ticket (I hadn't checked in online or printed out a boarding pass or anything) or made it through security, especially since my mom had warned me "not to get too fucked up" or, according to her, they wouldn't let me on the plane.

I'm ok with being in Denver, because that is where my layover was. I had done something right.

I had also done something wrong, though.

My purple velour track suit jacket was on, which was cool. Pants were on, too, but they were hanging around my neck the way Alex P. Keaton wore his sweaters.... Hot! (I feel the need to mention that I did have a skirt on. Haha)

This was not the worst part.

I had no luggage!

I vaguely remembered realizing earlier that I didn't have luggage at some point, but then convincing myself at the time that I must've checked it.

I didn't think "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" applied to my damn luggage!

So, I asked an airport employee (who was very helpful, and also a bastard) and he called the Vegas airport as well as my hotel and checked the plane and such. No luck. He put me on a later flight to Chicago, and I called my mom to tell her what had happened.

At this point, it's like 9am, and I am still drunk. Again. Just like the way out there.

So I call my mom and tell her that she has to pick me up a little later. I also explain the struggle, which she doesn't really react to on the phone. She tells me she'll get me.

So then I put my pants on like a normal person and put the skirt in my purse, and get on my flight.

Flyin' first class, thanks to the guy who switched my flight. Nice, except I was drunk and upset, so I didn't get to fully enjoy it. Slept almost the entire time, with the exception only to eat a chicken caesar salad, which was pretty good.

Got to Chicago, and the flight attendant or pilot or whoever she was that was sitting next to me says, "wow, you slept a lot!"

All I could muster is that I was really tired.

So I get to the airport, and get a hug from my mom, who starts gushing about how she's so proud of me, because I must've had such a good time the night before.

Only my mom, seriously!

Finding our car had a couple obstacles, but nothing insurmountable.

When we got to the car, my mom had two sirloin tip burritos from Tacos El Ray waiting for me. The best thing about Racine aside from my fam and friends is definitely the food. Tacos El Ray is completely amazing.

She knew I needed a bit of cheering up, so she got me a burrito to eat right away (took me like three sittings, because when I am hung over, I am never hungry!), and a burrito for later. Awesome!

And, like only my mom can, she was cracking me up with ridiculous jokes about the situation, such as....

"At least you don't have to unpack. Unpacking is the worst part of vacation anyway."

"At least I don't have to help you carry anything upstairs."

"I'm forever the optimist. My suitcase is always full, I just don't know where the fuck it is."

Hahahahahahha. She is hilarious.

Anyway, the story's not over. The day following my return, I set out to call cab companies. The fourth one I called had my bag. Apparently, I just got out of the cab and bothered neither to pay, nor bring my luggage with me. Sweet.

A photographer that I know was still in Vegas at the time, so he went and took care of it. My bag is supposedly en route. I haven't gotten it yet, though. I can't wait!

I'm currently struggling, because there are a lot of important things that I use frequently in the bag, like my flatiron, my makeup (I've been using my reject makeup), my curling irons, some jewelery, cute clothes, and one of my favorite shoes (the other one is in my bedroom, since I left it in Danielle's car).

Can't complain too much, though, because I feel like the luckiest person in the United States for just being able to locate such luggage. It sucked that I had to pay $25 in addition to the $17 cab fare to get it shipped to me, but I'll take it.

Alright. I promise the next blog will be much sooner.

Oh! And this Saturday, I am going on a wifebeater bar crawl. The temptation is great to wear my "I <3>

Whaaat?

Ok, so since I had started the blog about the Racine wedding a long time ago, when I went to post it, it went into the "July" part instead of August.... So click on the "July" one, and it's called "Racine - The Hamptons of the Midwest, and the perfect setting for a dream wedding."

Holla!

Mama Seuss

Ok, just got back from New York.... What a trip! I literally have hundreds of emails to go through, then I will get down to some serious blogging business, I promise....

Apparently, after reading my last one, my mom felt sorry for me in my situation (and probably a little guilty, too, since we've decided collectively that she passed along the quality in me that attacts absurd people and situations), that she wrote me what she calls a little ditty.

For your reading pleasure, here it is!

There once was a girl name Mandie
She started a blog
and it sure was a dandy

She has a way with words
Like few I know
Her stories are great
They must be told

I told her once
They were like "visual crack"
Once I started to read
There was no turning back

Some people smoke
And some people drink
She got me hooked
I'm addicted, I think!

Way back in June
She came into town
Some weddings we attended
Stories abound

To my dismay
I have yet to read
The tales of those adventures
The fix that I need

I awaken each day
With a smile and a prayer
When I click on the "Brut"
Those stories will be there

The pictures are great
Spectacular verbage indeed
Please, My Mandie,
Give me what I need

Love,
Mom

Oh, Mom. Hilarity and awesomeness. Coming soon, I promise!