Waking Up in Vegas

Waking up in a cramped car in the middle of Utah is not where I expected to find myself on Sunday morning.  Normally, I would be at Church or going for a jog.  But, this Sunday, I was over halfway to Vegas and only moderately regretting my choices.  And by "only moderately" I mean that I was fucking miserable and hated everyone around me.

How did this good yinzer turn into such a parody of fraterdom?  I guess the short answer is vodka. Well...that's the longer answer too.

On Saturday, I went over to Corey and his partner's house to have some good clean fun.  The plan was to eat some marinated pork and read Batman comic books.  (We are CMU alums, we can only fake normalcy for like 20 minutes).  My contribution to the dinner party, other than my general awesomeness, was tequila.  After 500 ml of tequila, the three of us mozied to Saudia Aurora and Corey's local watering hole.

To be honest, the bar was not my scene.  In the sense that there were morbidly obese women wearing super-tight clothes and belting off-key versions of Donna Summers, Christina Agulera, or Celine.  I think after the second bad rendition of My Heart Will Go On, I decided that we should go on.  To Vegas. To see Celine.  Because, fuck it, I have sick days and just got a new credit card with 0.00% APR for 18 months.

So, we went to Corey's flat.  Corey had time to pack, and this is what he chose:

Joellen and Corey put out 25 lbs of cat litter, 2 tiny bins of cat food, locked up the cat, and off we went.    I'm not sure how Corey drove us, but we drove....to Vegas.

Apparently, in my drunken stupor, I booked a hotel for us.  It was $50 and I made sure to get us a room with two king size beds.  Seriously, thank God that there is a recession or else I think my drunken plans would have fallen apart.

Once in the hotel, the teachers in us took over and we backwards-designed a lesson plan and set off to see what Las Vegas had to offer.

Except of course...I didn't have any clothes at all.  The shirt that I was wearing was stained with sweat, tequila, and poor choices. So, I had to wear some of Corey's clothes.  Corey...is...not...my...size.  So, it was really interesting to try to find something that would work.

Five minutes outside of our hotel, I found my dream the yard long margarita.

Look at that glorious margarita

Whenever I was just a wee little yinzer watching public access television, I watched a documentary about Vegas on the travel channel.  My father is not one to travel, so he would watch these and say things like, "Why would you need to go to Vegas now?  We saw everything worth seeing."  But, I knew that I would want to go some day, and that I would want to drink a yard long margarita.  When I saw a "True Life: I'm an Alcoholic" where the girl on it would only drink yard-long margaritas...I knew that it was a childhood dream to realize.

In a side note: I drank that shit for 5 fucking hours and still didn't finish it.  It was fucking huge. And painful.

Walking around, we drank and saw all of the sites.  The sites in Vegas mainly consists of porn magazines, undocumented workers trying to get you to fuck a prostitute, and small children frolicking around drunk guidos.  Seriously, who the fuck brings their kid to Vegas?  Probably someone who got drunk in their mid-20s and drove to Vegas.

After a day of drinking, we decided to watch titty dancers dressed up as vampire.  It was Sunday and our hotel didn't have HBO, so titty-dancing vampires were really the only option.

At 11 AM, we were dressed and driving home.  The drive is 12 hours door-to-door.  To be honest, I probably should have not wasted a sick day.  I shouldn't have suggested driving to Vegas or spent as much money as I did.  But, let's be honest....who the fuck can say that they actually got drunk and then went to Vegas?  

Life is an adventure.

Film on the Rocks

Red Rocks is this amazing locale near Denver.  Though it is primarily a gorgeous natural space for hiking, it is also amazing for concerts and movies.  

Corey, Joellen, and I at Film on the Rocks.

On Tuesday, my little fraternity brother, his partner, and I went off to watch Bridesmaids at Red Rocks after a bomb.com dinner at Melitas.  Bridesmaids is one of my favorite comedies, competing closely with Anchorman.  


That scene where they are doing a boot camp class in the park on the other side of the tree because they can't pay for it?  Been there, done that.  That scene where the woman poops in a sink?  Ugh...yeah, did that too.  Sometimes my lactose intolerance overwhelms me...and the plumbing around me.  


There is a two-fold problem with going to events like this.  First and foremost, it is early in the work week.  My proclivity to drink is not necessarily limited, but I hate that it probably should be.  What if I start getting hangovers one day?  What happens to my weeknight drinking?  


The second and larger problem...is that a lot of people (read bosses) go to these events.  Drinking a thermos full of the Kracken in the parking lot, I saw both my boss (our CFO) and our HR rep.  That is literally the two worst people to see when drunk, and when you have an inclination for the inappropriate.  I like both of them, but I am so ridiculously unprofessional outside of work, that I don't really want to see them...ever.


I got back at 4 AM, ate dinner (again) at Toms, and still got up at 6:45 for work.  I did need a coffee at 4:30 PM, but hey...I booked another contract.  So, count it, right?

Back to Black

Dude, blondes don't have more fun.  

Instead, strangers at bars look at you and say things like,  "you'd be beautiful with dark hair" and "you look fugly as shit." (And potentially unrelated, "you're fucking fat."  I have not had much fun at bars this month...)  Thanks strangers in Denver, I wanted to get told my hair coloring choice was god awful and that I should hate myself.  Here I was, drinking peacefully with my friends.

So, I kept my hair for over a month to test it out.  The toner faded...so, it gave me this awkward Lady Gaga Telephone hair....which would be awesome, if I were Lady Gaga.  Mind you, I dress like the woman (see below), but she is a bit more intense/famous/thin than me.

So, I decided to get rid of the blonde...and the hair...and get a buzzcut.  Because, I like to make giant changes each month and tattoos are expensive.

This is my new haircut.  I look like a real live bro!  Dreams come true.

4th of July

I love America.  I really do.  We are a fun people...sure, we could lose weight, but who doesn't love the funny fat friend?  Because you know that of all the countries at a bar, America would be buying drinks...but still making sure everyone got home safe.  And that's what I look for in my country at a bar analogy.

America's birthday was awesome!  I went loco on the 3rd, and had a normal 4th (read bbq, friends, beer).

In photos:

Host: "I was going to make something sweet, then I remembered you were coming and didn't want to compete."

Me: "Stop hitting on me."

Best quick snack ever: jalapenos (seeds mostly removed), cream cheese, bacon/beef.

You know these people.

Survivor flipcup: normal flipcup, but when a side loses someone gets voted off.  I made it to the top 3, even though we had to do 360 flips.  Whatever, I made SigEp (DG) proud.

White people.

I really like my new sunglasses.

Mike: "Are those red, white, and blue Sperry Top Siders?"

Me: "yep."

Mike: "That is Kennedy America."

Summer Should Be...

Pregaming concerts, and then getting featured in local newspapers.

Calling your grandma, and having her explain how to make 7 layer taco dip at the supermarket.

Baking the most amazing cupcakes in the world!  (I really want to babysit somedays)

Going to the Park with Friends...even though no one else is working.

This past week has been really tough.  At work, I had to let someone go, I had a false start with salary negotiations, and I took out the wrong amount for a student loan.  Plus, some rando called me fat.