My Birthmonth.
Usually people celebrate their birthday. If they're really crazy they celebrate it for two days. If they are me, they celebrate it for a month. For no good reason. I want to try to recap it, because this has been the funniest fucking month of my life.
I guess we would start off in July. July 26th is the Twinseseseses birthday (21st, to be exact) so they rented out XS ("holler"). They sent out invitations saying it was my birthday celebration too, but I felt bad because I didn't pay a dime and because it wasn't really my birthday. However, apparently people there did not feel bad about it, because every time someone bought the Twinseseses a shot, they bought me one. The last thing I remember from that night is Luterman handing me a shot that looked like SoCo and Lime, and it was humongous, and I was like, "oh, SoCo and Lime." So I toss the beast back thinking nothing of it, and quickly realize that it is not SoCo and Lime, but a ginormous shot of WHISKEY.
[For those of you that do not know, Whiskey and I used to be great friends, but now we are enemies. Whiskey makes me black out. Hardcore.]
So needless to say, I don't remember the rest of the night, and have nothing to show for it except a ton of really horrible and goofy pictures. And apparently, 3 of my exes were there, and they weren't too fond of that.
So a bunch of nights pass in between this night and August 6th, none of which I remember, obviously.
Friday, August 5th.
I unfortunately have to work a double, so I'm praying I get out of there by at least 10 so I can go out at a decent hour. Well it was RIDICULOUSLY slow at work, so I get cut at 6:41 (41 entire minutes of work) and walk out to my car to go home and get ready. Well, I see Adam and Dave's (two guys I work with) cars outside and figure they are still at Salty Dog, where they go after work for a couple thousand pitchers. So I go in, expecting to have A beer with them. Which was a mistake, because who only drinks one beer and goes home, right? So needless to say, 5 or so beers later, I have a good buzz and realize, SHIT, I'm going to be getting ready drunk. And I realize, SHIT, a couple people were coming into town for my birthday, and I'm probably not going to remember seeing them.
I finally make it out after an hour of squinting in the mirror trying to apply makeup. So Kassie and I get to Balls at 9, and eat pizza and drink beer, and Jagerbombs. Apparently, I love the shit out of telling people it's my birthday, only so they will buy me booze. Well, by midnight I am smashed. One of my friends who came into town (who also happens to be a sort of ex) is at Grog, and will not come down to Balls because he thinks Dustin will kick his ass. So I guess I tell my friends I am going to the bathroom and sneak up to Grog for like a half hour. Yada yada yada, drinky drinky drinky, I'm spent. I took a picture of our table, which there was only 4 girls sitting at, and this is our remnants: 12 beer bottles, 18 mixed drink cups, 17 Jagerbomb cups, and 6 other shot cups. And I don't think that was even at the end of the night. So basically, I drank a massive amount of alcohol. And some dude called me a snob, to which my reply was: derka derka derka. I then proceeded to drink MORE after we leave the bar. I do not remember walking home.
Saturday, August 6th.
I wake up at 1-ish, still drunk, and call Kassie to go grab some lunch. We go to Tijuana, get disgustingly fat off gross Tex Mex, and I decide I want a beer. My manager gives us free beer on account that it's my birthday, and I drink it quick fast and in a hurry. I'm drunk again. This older dude (we'll say 55 or so) comes in WASTED, his shirt unbottoned, and of COURSE chooses to sit at the table right next to us. Well, he starts blabbing about something or another, and then proceeds to tell us horrible jokes that we never wanted to hear. Case in point:
"This guy is being audited by the IRS and calls his mother to see what he should wear. His mother is like, 'Go to the suit store and buy a $3000 suit and $3000 shoes.' So he's like, ehhh, and calls his brother to see what he should wear, his brother is like, 'Dude, just wear a cutoff pair of shorts and a t-shirt, who cares.' So he calls his friend for a third opinion, and his friend is like, 'I want to tell you a story. A woman on her wedding day calls her mom to see what she should wear. Her mom tells her to go buy some really nice lingerie, it will really turn him on. She calls her sister to see what she should wear, and her sister is like, 'who cares, just wear your regular clothes, he'll still have sex with you.' [yes, a 55 year old stranger is telling us this joke.] So the dude who is getting audited by the IRS is like WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS STORY WHAT DOES IT HAVE TO DO WITH ME and his friend goes 'No matter what you wear, you're still gonna get fucked."
I stand there with my mouth gaping open, try to pump out a fake laugh in the midst of complete shock, and Kassie and I were like............ welp, we gotta go. What tha fack.
So I don't want to stop drinking, so we go buy two 12 packs and rent Pee Wee's Big Adventure. Once again, by the time I need to get ready to go out, I'm drunk. So I get ready drunk, again, and we make it out. I don't remember what time. I think we went to Balls again, and I do things like this:
plaza.ufl.edu/beanatuf/ses/DSCN1300.JPG
And I don't remember walking home.
Sunday, August 7th.
I woke up still TRASHED. I wobbled around for a bit, and then talked to Rachel and decided we wanted to eat lunch at Po Boy's cause Turd was working. So I'm wasted, driving to Po Boy's. I finally get there and figure if I don't start drinking now, I'm gonna get really hungover. So we start drinking. 3:00 rolls around, we're sitting around at Po Boy's, and come to the agreement that Sunday FunDay is the obvious alternative.
[Sunday FunDay is this thing the workers at Gator City do. It's at this guy Dutch's house, because it's a cool house with a pool. They have this wheel that you spin, and it has everyone's names on it, and if your name is spun, you have to take shot. It's amazing.]
FROM HERE ON OUT IS THE CRAZIEST STORY OF MY LIFE. PRETTY MUCH.
Apparently:
-We stop in at Rachel's house to pick up Turd (Troy), and for some reason, we walk around handcuffed together with pink furry handcuffs, drinking Makers Mark and Coke.
-We make Turd drink out of a Mr. Coffee pot.
-We get to Sunday FunDay and I get Jello Shot happy, because I figure there's hardly any alcohol in them, and I'm already TANKED. So everytime the wheel is spun, and it doesn't land on my name, I go "ope!" and put it on my name, and take about 4 Jello Shots.
-I spill a red Jello Shot in my purse, staining the living shit out of my Fendi wallet, and everything else in my purse
-Dutch likes to dye his pool red
-People start jumping off the roof of Dutch's house into the pool, but at least I was coherent enough to figure out that if I tried, I would PROBABLY kill myself.
-Andrew Santo (another sort of ex) decides it's a GREAT idea to throw me on Dutch's bar and make me a human shot glass. I proceed to be demoralized and have every guy at Sunday FunDay taking tequila shots out of my belly button. And one girl did it.
-Apparently theres pictures, which I will be sure to burn later on. All I can remember is laying there, repeating "I hate my life."
-Someone drives my drunk ass (along with 5 other drunk asses) to Gator City around 9ish.
-Rachel lost her shirt at Dutch's, so is rocking my super gay ocean scene towel as a shirt.
-I fell asleep on the back bar
-I woke up and took more shots
-I get cut off by Randy
-I drink lots of water
-I tell Kassie and Katie that I was going to the bathroom, and she's like okay well you better not leave Gator City, and I go "IIIII SWEEARRRR TOO GODDDD"
-I don't go to the bathroom, I go to Swamp (YES, I WAS AT SWAMP. WHICH I HATE WITH MY ENTIRE EXISTENCE.)
-I take some more shots
-I find out from Andrew Santo that I at some point in Gator City slapped him across the face for no apparent reason
-I tell Kassie in a funny voice that I talk like her now
All of this is heresay. I don't remember one single thing from being in Gator City. I vaguely remember sitting outside of Swamp talking to my most recent sort of ex's ex girlfriend, and we were trying to talk about the aforementioned sort of ex, and I couldn't formulate a sentence, so all I really said was derka derka derka and I threw a few f-bombs around. I then remember sitting on the tailgate of some truck in a parking lot behind Swamp, and Troy kept going "WHERES RACHEL WHERES RACHEL" and Rachel pops out of some random bushes and I was like there she is. I don't remember going home.
I don't remember last night either, which is really sad, because it's not my birthday anymore, and someone needs to keep the booze away from my drunk ass. Apparently, this is me last night:
plaza.ufl.edu/beanatuf/ses/DSCN1325.JPG
Yes, thats whiskey and sprite in a VASE.
That is the glorious story of my birthmonth. I have come to the conclusion that I am perpetually wasted, and should seek some sort of professional help.
I guess we would start off in July. July 26th is the Twinseseseses birthday (21st, to be exact) so they rented out XS ("holler"). They sent out invitations saying it was my birthday celebration too, but I felt bad because I didn't pay a dime and because it wasn't really my birthday. However, apparently people there did not feel bad about it, because every time someone bought the Twinseseses a shot, they bought me one. The last thing I remember from that night is Luterman handing me a shot that looked like SoCo and Lime, and it was humongous, and I was like, "oh, SoCo and Lime." So I toss the beast back thinking nothing of it, and quickly realize that it is not SoCo and Lime, but a ginormous shot of WHISKEY.
[For those of you that do not know, Whiskey and I used to be great friends, but now we are enemies. Whiskey makes me black out. Hardcore.]
So needless to say, I don't remember the rest of the night, and have nothing to show for it except a ton of really horrible and goofy pictures. And apparently, 3 of my exes were there, and they weren't too fond of that.
So a bunch of nights pass in between this night and August 6th, none of which I remember, obviously.
Friday, August 5th.
I unfortunately have to work a double, so I'm praying I get out of there by at least 10 so I can go out at a decent hour. Well it was RIDICULOUSLY slow at work, so I get cut at 6:41 (41 entire minutes of work) and walk out to my car to go home and get ready. Well, I see Adam and Dave's (two guys I work with) cars outside and figure they are still at Salty Dog, where they go after work for a couple thousand pitchers. So I go in, expecting to have A beer with them. Which was a mistake, because who only drinks one beer and goes home, right? So needless to say, 5 or so beers later, I have a good buzz and realize, SHIT, I'm going to be getting ready drunk. And I realize, SHIT, a couple people were coming into town for my birthday, and I'm probably not going to remember seeing them.
I finally make it out after an hour of squinting in the mirror trying to apply makeup. So Kassie and I get to Balls at 9, and eat pizza and drink beer, and Jagerbombs. Apparently, I love the shit out of telling people it's my birthday, only so they will buy me booze. Well, by midnight I am smashed. One of my friends who came into town (who also happens to be a sort of ex) is at Grog, and will not come down to Balls because he thinks Dustin will kick his ass. So I guess I tell my friends I am going to the bathroom and sneak up to Grog for like a half hour. Yada yada yada, drinky drinky drinky, I'm spent. I took a picture of our table, which there was only 4 girls sitting at, and this is our remnants: 12 beer bottles, 18 mixed drink cups, 17 Jagerbomb cups, and 6 other shot cups. And I don't think that was even at the end of the night. So basically, I drank a massive amount of alcohol. And some dude called me a snob, to which my reply was: derka derka derka. I then proceeded to drink MORE after we leave the bar. I do not remember walking home.
Saturday, August 6th.
I wake up at 1-ish, still drunk, and call Kassie to go grab some lunch. We go to Tijuana, get disgustingly fat off gross Tex Mex, and I decide I want a beer. My manager gives us free beer on account that it's my birthday, and I drink it quick fast and in a hurry. I'm drunk again. This older dude (we'll say 55 or so) comes in WASTED, his shirt unbottoned, and of COURSE chooses to sit at the table right next to us. Well, he starts blabbing about something or another, and then proceeds to tell us horrible jokes that we never wanted to hear. Case in point:
"This guy is being audited by the IRS and calls his mother to see what he should wear. His mother is like, 'Go to the suit store and buy a $3000 suit and $3000 shoes.' So he's like, ehhh, and calls his brother to see what he should wear, his brother is like, 'Dude, just wear a cutoff pair of shorts and a t-shirt, who cares.' So he calls his friend for a third opinion, and his friend is like, 'I want to tell you a story. A woman on her wedding day calls her mom to see what she should wear. Her mom tells her to go buy some really nice lingerie, it will really turn him on. She calls her sister to see what she should wear, and her sister is like, 'who cares, just wear your regular clothes, he'll still have sex with you.' [yes, a 55 year old stranger is telling us this joke.] So the dude who is getting audited by the IRS is like WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS STORY WHAT DOES IT HAVE TO DO WITH ME and his friend goes 'No matter what you wear, you're still gonna get fucked."
I stand there with my mouth gaping open, try to pump out a fake laugh in the midst of complete shock, and Kassie and I were like............ welp, we gotta go. What tha fack.
So I don't want to stop drinking, so we go buy two 12 packs and rent Pee Wee's Big Adventure. Once again, by the time I need to get ready to go out, I'm drunk. So I get ready drunk, again, and we make it out. I don't remember what time. I think we went to Balls again, and I do things like this:
plaza.ufl.edu/beanatuf/ses/DSCN1300.JPG
And I don't remember walking home.
Sunday, August 7th.
I woke up still TRASHED. I wobbled around for a bit, and then talked to Rachel and decided we wanted to eat lunch at Po Boy's cause Turd was working. So I'm wasted, driving to Po Boy's. I finally get there and figure if I don't start drinking now, I'm gonna get really hungover. So we start drinking. 3:00 rolls around, we're sitting around at Po Boy's, and come to the agreement that Sunday FunDay is the obvious alternative.
[Sunday FunDay is this thing the workers at Gator City do. It's at this guy Dutch's house, because it's a cool house with a pool. They have this wheel that you spin, and it has everyone's names on it, and if your name is spun, you have to take shot. It's amazing.]
FROM HERE ON OUT IS THE CRAZIEST STORY OF MY LIFE. PRETTY MUCH.
Apparently:
-We stop in at Rachel's house to pick up Turd (Troy), and for some reason, we walk around handcuffed together with pink furry handcuffs, drinking Makers Mark and Coke.
-We make Turd drink out of a Mr. Coffee pot.
-We get to Sunday FunDay and I get Jello Shot happy, because I figure there's hardly any alcohol in them, and I'm already TANKED. So everytime the wheel is spun, and it doesn't land on my name, I go "ope!" and put it on my name, and take about 4 Jello Shots.
-I spill a red Jello Shot in my purse, staining the living shit out of my Fendi wallet, and everything else in my purse
-Dutch likes to dye his pool red
-People start jumping off the roof of Dutch's house into the pool, but at least I was coherent enough to figure out that if I tried, I would PROBABLY kill myself.
-Andrew Santo (another sort of ex) decides it's a GREAT idea to throw me on Dutch's bar and make me a human shot glass. I proceed to be demoralized and have every guy at Sunday FunDay taking tequila shots out of my belly button. And one girl did it.
-Apparently theres pictures, which I will be sure to burn later on. All I can remember is laying there, repeating "I hate my life."
-Someone drives my drunk ass (along with 5 other drunk asses) to Gator City around 9ish.
-Rachel lost her shirt at Dutch's, so is rocking my super gay ocean scene towel as a shirt.
-I fell asleep on the back bar
-I woke up and took more shots
-I get cut off by Randy
-I drink lots of water
-I tell Kassie and Katie that I was going to the bathroom, and she's like okay well you better not leave Gator City, and I go "IIIII SWEEARRRR TOO GODDDD"
-I don't go to the bathroom, I go to Swamp (YES, I WAS AT SWAMP. WHICH I HATE WITH MY ENTIRE EXISTENCE.)
-I take some more shots
-I find out from Andrew Santo that I at some point in Gator City slapped him across the face for no apparent reason
-I tell Kassie in a funny voice that I talk like her now
All of this is heresay. I don't remember one single thing from being in Gator City. I vaguely remember sitting outside of Swamp talking to my most recent sort of ex's ex girlfriend, and we were trying to talk about the aforementioned sort of ex, and I couldn't formulate a sentence, so all I really said was derka derka derka and I threw a few f-bombs around. I then remember sitting on the tailgate of some truck in a parking lot behind Swamp, and Troy kept going "WHERES RACHEL WHERES RACHEL" and Rachel pops out of some random bushes and I was like there she is. I don't remember going home.
I don't remember last night either, which is really sad, because it's not my birthday anymore, and someone needs to keep the booze away from my drunk ass. Apparently, this is me last night:
plaza.ufl.edu/beanatuf/ses/DSCN1325.JPG
Yes, thats whiskey and sprite in a VASE.
That is the glorious story of my birthmonth. I have come to the conclusion that I am perpetually wasted, and should seek some sort of professional help.