Thanks!
the best thing about the wednesday nights at the gallivan center is the dots–when the beer line is too long, go for the sugar! sitting down to watch the “cool” kids have seizures alongside local bands is my idea of fun; had i been just a bit more intoxicated i would have joined–next time, i swear!
looking over my bank account post vegas i found this: PURCHASE – SALES TERRIBLES #___ LAS VEGAS NV $53.73 . i don’t remember hitting any adult super stores, but you never know. so, i went through all my receipts and found one in the same amount for gasoline. sure enough the station was called terrible’s, how i failed to notice is beyond me. maybe, just maybe they feel so badly about gas prices they named the station accordingly.
when traveling to vegas with an old fratboy you can count on one of two things: a) stopping by the frat house for a “quick” bathroom break, or b) stopping by the favorite college watering hole. please note i use old fratboy in humor, as there is no such thing, once a fratbrat always a fratbrat. this is one of those things that men just can’t let go of, frat stories and remote controls, whatever.
i threw a fit until i saw the sign, this girl is always up for a good beaver bar!
why is it that co-workers think it’s ok to talk to me while in the restroom?
potty break means just that, a break! can’t you just refrain from walking in and attempting to hold a conversation while i’m in a stall, especially when you’re discussing work. i’ll ignore you, so really i guess it’s like the rest of the day.
please, for the love of god…let me wipe in silence!
when i think of brew pub food i expect certain things, you know, beer food: pizza, nachos, and all things appetizer; sushi and oysters require sake, not american beer. i understand vegas likes to mix things, but please for the love of strippers and all else holy, leave the breweries alone!
these strange mixes cause middle-aged men to drink, a lot. thank god, the man at the table next to me decided to wait until i finished my dinner to puke into his own lap. so, being a fellow puker, yes, sometimes i can’t hold my alcohol either (stop judging, i said SOMETIMES) i walked over and politely handed him my stack of napkins. as i walked out of the restaurant i heard him claim “wasabi sucks”, then make plans to hit the floor, for some reason i think he’ll end up hitting a different floor then planned, just a thought…
sometimes a girl needs a little excitement, what place better to find it then vegas, right? i knew i was off to a good start when my cab driver was named joseph smith. there is a god, and he has the same sense of humor i do. praise that lord!
a memo to my co-workers:
when saving my number into your phone always use my first and last name, a seemingly innocent message requesting help turns dirty, oh so dirty rather quickly.
and yes, i liked it…
every so often, i realize ben and i are indeed biological brother and sister, today happens to be one of those days. the kid’s vacationing in puerto rico, which is good because emo kids need sun too. when i asked him to send me some pictures i should have been more specific, i.e. beaches, hot women in teensy bikinis, you know…vacation pictures–instead i get this:
of course after seeing this i immediately called him in hopes that wallace realty is selling this little gem. if i’m not spotted at a local sbux in the near future, you’ll know where to find me, right? i’ll be the proud new proprietor of super condom, the store for champions!
thursday nights are my favorite night of the week, it’s coffee club night; the girls and i meet at sbux every thursday. tonight we tried something new, a new venue, sorta–which will now be known as ‘burb bux. you see, aimee retired and moved to the ‘burbs, and i’ve been spending a significant amount of time out there as well, so it made sense to move the club.
in my life when something makes sense i should know to steer the hell clear, lesson learned. in the future, when i see motorcycles parked in front of sbux i’ll know NOT to go in, because when you do you, find yourself amidst old men attempting hip-ness, this is never a good thing (remember that boys). i’m a chronic eavesdropper, so of course i was able to catch the tail end of their conversation. the topic: myspace and real estate, why you would mix the two is beyond me, but whatever. the argument was whether or not you could sell houses on myspace, or if it was indeed a porn site as they had heard on the news.
to clarify:
-beachcruisers and cruisers are not the same
-vespas are the official “bike” of sbux
-myspace isn’t suicide girls
-real estate can be sold on craigs list
sigh…
the mother, ben, and i went to dinner tonight at the ever so unique (insert sarcasm here) mimi’s cafe. the clan gets together every so often for entertainment purposes only, quality family time in my family isn’t so much quality as it is someone leaving in absolute embarrassment. case in point, my mom was discussing her upcoming girls weekend, “i hope they grabbed me a big unit, i need a big unit”, to ben’s utter shock and horror she just kept repeating big unit; he tried to escape by slumping further into his seat only to realize his face was smack dab in the middle of his mashed potatoes. i tried to tell her the perverse connotation, only to hear her say it’s not her fault what people perceive things as. poor, poor ben…it can’t be easy to have us as the women in his life.
once again folks, you wonder why i’m a shit, when it can be so clearly blamed on genetics!
