Tag Archives: random

Last night, I had a really strange, very real feeling dream. There were a bunch of parts to it, like I was watching a movie, but the last bit felt like the longest storyline.

I had moved to a small town—it reminded me of Weston, MO—charming, full of history, haunting, lovely…but it wasn’t Weston. I think it was actually someplace in Alaska, perhaps. Maybe even Longyearbyen on Svalbard. (I watch too many of Sejsejlija’s videos on TikTok about that place!) It was the type of small town where everyone was familiar with all who lived there—their residences, frequent hangout spots, etc.

Moving on, though…I was at the small grocery store, waiting in line to check out with a few items, when I heard a man speaking English with some sort of accent (Russian?). He was beginning to raise his voice at an employee, because he was upset they were out of stock of eggplants. I believe I briefly met this man earlier in my dream, and he had come across as a tough guy who was generally unhappy.

I left the line and walked towards the small commotion, because it occurred to me that I had had an eggplant in my cart earlier, then had set it somewhere it didn’t belong, when I had decided I didn’t want the vegetable.

On the way over to the man and employee, I grabbed the misplaced eggplant. When I arrived to the growing argument, I interrupted and explained how there was indeed still an eggplant in stock, and that I was very sorry I had misplaced it earlier.

That is when I handed it to the man. He seemed more relieved than anything, and proceeded to tell me that he had recently lost his grandmother and wanted to cook the eggplant how she used to, in homage of her.

Then, in a strange turn, as dreams like to do, he asked if I would help him out and cook it for him, as he was not adept in the kitchen.

To sort of make up for the havoc my earlier actions inevitably contributed to, I agreed to cook the eggplant. We exchanged numbers, so he could take his other groceries home, and I could also head to my home to prepare his Grandmother’s recipe.

Next thing I know, I’m in my kitchen, talking to this man on the phone, following cooking instructions his grandmother had left him. The eggplant definitely did NOT cook like a real eggplant! When I was done, it looked more like fried “chicken of the woods” (a mushroom, Laetiporus sulphureus—-yes, I had to Google that mushroom’s name)

As it was finishing, the man walks through my front door without even knocking! I made a mental note to start keeping that door locked. He had known where I lived, because earlier in the dream, my odd residence was a huge discussion. And as I mentioned, this was the type of town where everyone knew who lived where.

I divvied up the cooked eggplant between us, and we had dinner while standing in my living room, discussing memories of the departed and other topics I can’t quite recall.

This is where the dream became really odd…

While eating, an ex boyfriend of mine (who I haven’t seen since I was 19) walked through the door and asked to join us. We finished eating, and then the man (no, I never remembered his name) left and the ex and I discussed all the repairs my apartment needed.

An aside—from what I can gather, I lived in a very small, partly renovated loft atop an old building on the Main Street. The main, HUGE window had some stretchy canvas instead of glass, and the floor wasn’t finished, so I could only walk on certain spots in my living room/bedroom—sort of like an unfinished attic.

That’s pretty much it—that’s my dream. My cat woke me, so she could be fed breakfast, before the dream’s plot could go any further.

A Prince’s Meal

The other day, J and I took his kiddo to the library for a little while to enjoy some books. When we walked in, I glanced over the rows of children’s books, nostalgia taking hold. I remember wandering through aisles like those when I was shorter than the shelves, and picking out hardback-covered books full of my favorite characters like Clifford and Amelia Bedelia.

In total, Lil Guy picked out about 5-6 books to read. We carried them to the comfy chairs set up at the south end of the library to have some adventures in our imaginations. Among the books chosen, there was one that involved a Prince and his eating habits. I will not name the book or the author here, but I’m sure you can google it and figure out what it is.

This book begins with our main characters, the Prince (who is around five or six years old) and his mother and father. It tells of how the Prince will only eat dry toast and nothing else, because he is such a picky eater. Throughout the pages, the King and Queen take their son to various lands so that he may try all the fare of the entire world, from the western hemisphere to the eastern!

At this point, I’m thinking “Wow! What a nice way to introduce different food cultures to young children!”

But, at every part of the world, the Prince refuses to eat a thing. Absolutely nothing. As much as his mother and father rave about the tastes and the wonders, he remains stubborn, with his mouth shut tight.

Here is where I begin to think, “How the fuck is this kid still alive?? It takes several, several days to travel the world, especially since they aren’t flying!! He couldn’t possibly be alive if he didn’t eat SOMEthing!! Is there a part of the book where the parents are making him eat?? Is he sneaking food and just messing with his parents so he can travel the world??? This kid must be malnourished as fuck!”

Towards the end of the book, the last place the family visits is Africa. The boy has yet to give in and try anything whatsoever. His parents keep trying and trying, showing them their faces of pleasure and how much they are enjoying the wonderful cuisine. They urge and urge the young Prince, but to no avail.

At this part in the book, I’m thinking, “This must have a Dr. Seuss sort of twist and any moment, the boy will finally give in, try something, and then be so delighted that they would travel back to all the places and he would happily eat everything presented to him. A sort of “Sam I Am” affect! Where else could the story possibly go??”

Then, I turned the page.

What happened next was a native of the country, someone who appeared to be an old, wise man, came strolling by. He asked what was wrong, and the parents explained their plight.

“Here is the moment.” I thought. “The moment where the wise old man convinces the young boy to merely taste ONE morsel…and it will all be over from there. You shall have your day, Sam I Am!!!”

But continued to read, I saw the picture of the old man pull a bottle from his bag. A red bottle. (I looked at J, and he was making the same face as me. A face that said “Wait a second…is that…?? NO! No Fucking way!….”

WAY.

It was a damn bottle of Ketchup!!! The “wise” man explained to the kid that he could just PUT KETCHUP ON EVERYTHING, AND IT WOULD TASTE GOOD!! The Prince totally fell for it!! He tried the ketchup, and loved it, and proceeded to put KETCHUP on ALL OF THE WORLDLY FOODS!!

At the end of the book, J and I were both flabbergasted!!!! Of course, J’s Lil Guy didn’t see an issue and was ready for the next book. (Thank GOODNESS, I don’t THINK it put any subconscious thoughts in his mind.)

I couldn’t help but continue to wonder, though… WHAT was the point of that?? Were they TRYING to teach kids that it’s okay to not eat what’s put in front of you, unless there is ketchup on it?? Was the author saying that KETCHUP is the God of all foods!! That it is some magic liquid that makes all the vile tastes of the world magnificent??

SERIOUSLY!!????

I’m sure the author has a child who only eats ketchup on everything, and decided to write about it. But for the LOVE OF MAN, why would you want to spread that as a message to young minds!!???

It should have been cheese. ;)

Evil Lurks

I swear, there was murder in its eyes—all eight of its eyes lusted for my blood. I didn’t see him at first, but I could feel that evil gaze as soon as I walked into my bedroom.  I had just exited the shower and my only goal was to dry my hair in peace.  As I reached for the hair-dryer, I glanced something dark and sinister in my peripheral vision.  It was above me, on the wall—the most fuzzy, black arachnid I had ever seen!  He wasn’t gigantic, but he was formidable in size enough so that I jumped back in terror.  Staring directly at me, he began to move across the wall in my direction.  He was either murderous, completely pervy, or BOTH!

It was decision time! This spider had to go!  I grabbed a shoe…but then I stopped.  If I smacked at this thing and missed, it would merely fall to the floor, and would land directly in my open bins full of makeup, etc.  At that point, he could potentially escape into the mess of things, recuperate, and then carry out his revenge on me later as I slept!

What were my other options? He was too high on the wall for me to try to catch him and release him to the wild.  I could have gone to the next room to grab some sort of bug spray with which I could attack him, but I was afraid that if I turned my back at all, he would escape and hide from me, while of course plotting my demise.  My contemplations increased, and I began to panic.

This is the instant, that crucial turning point, where the boyfren walked into my house. That moment looked like this:

He walked up to my bedroom door (unbeknownst to me) and peered in, puzzled, to find that I was standing there stark naked, holding one shoe like a baseball about to be pitched, but frozen in place, staring up at the wall, and yelling at my cats, “Why don’t you two do your jobs?? Why can’t you track down and kill the spiders?? YOU HAVE ONE RESPONSIBILITY IN THIS HOUSE BESIDES LICKING YOUR ASSHOLES, AND THAT IS TO KILL THE CREEPY/CRAWLY THINGS!!!”

With poise and ease, Justin grabbed a Kleenex, and disposed of the murderous perv-spider. JUST LIKE THAT!  As if it was a simple gesture!

My hero!

Now…I simply wait for the spider’s family to avenge his death. They always do.  (Isn’t this like the tenth blog I’ve written about spiders????)

A Fate of Fire

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It’s never a pleasant experience to wake up and realize you slept in the wrong position. The body decides to punish this mistake by throwing a kink in your neck…or your shoulder…or BOTH.  This was me on Saturday morning.  Then it followed me all day….like a little kink-puppy.

I made the assumption that another night’s sleep would force it away. We all know what assuming does, though, and Sunday morning brought the pain!  I stretched, I massaged it, I rolled my back with a foam roller, and even rolled a tennis ball under my shoulder blade.  (THIS was extremely painful as well.)  All this to no avail.

Luke offered to drive to the store and purchase some muscle rub cream, and I consented. Upon his return, the cream was rubbed into my neck, right shoulder, and part of my back.

What came next was not expected. My skin burst into metaphorical flames!

Holy shit!! This is how this works??  They distract you from your regular pain by giving you pain that is equal to what one finds in the depths of hell???  Or was I turning into a lava beast!??

Damn; damn; damn!! Lava beasts can’t have pet cats! Or boyfriends…or any friends, for that matter!!  I wasn’t ABOUT to let this happen.

I began to frantically wipe at my skin with a towel.

Luke looked at me, questioningly. “Don’t do that! You’ll wipe it off!”

“That’s sort of the POINT!! It’s trying to kill me! It wants to ruin my LIFE!!!”

I had demon slime on my skin, and he wanted me to LEAVE it there!!? NO!!!

Luke then explained that creams like IcyHot had about 2.5% of the working ingredient, and the cream I had slathered all over my skin contained 10% of the stuff!

Lashes!! I’d been given lashes with whips covered in razor blades and fire!!  This was no cream!  It was all a lie!!  How did I manage to consent to this!!??

I wanted to curl into a fetal position while cuddling with ice cubes, but I resisted. If I could get through this, then I could handle anything.  A walk on the sun would be mere child’s play to me after THIS!  In fact, the sun would have to be my home.  A lava monster can’t live on earth.

The minutes seemed like years. I sat there, burning, and contemplating my fate.

Finally, slowly, but surely…it ended. I survived.  I conquered.

Today, my neck continues to hurt. I’ll let it.  I’ve been to hell.  I’m not going back.  I escaped the fate of becoming the Lava Monster.

Now, I face Monday.

Related: I have some CVS Muscle Rub in my purse, currently, if anyone else wants to taste death.  I’m keeping it handy for my enemies.

Random Brain Stuff

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Sometimes, my brain wanders to places throughout the day. It isn’t normal…..
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I could definitely take a nap right now. But just because I can, doesn’t mean I will. Unfortunately, a hard desk doesn’t really make the best pillow. Not only that, but if I end up drooling in my sleep, it’d form a pool on my desk, and I would probably not notice it at first. Then, I’d end up sliding a paper across my desk, no doubt something of extreme importance, and it would soak up all of the spit. The document would be ruined, and I would have to explain why I needed a duplicate.
“Sorry, Boss…I drooled all over this one by accident. Could you please give me another one so I can try again?”
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I have unopened, plastic utensils at my desk. There is a fork and a knife. I’m trying to remember where they came from. Most of the time, these things are packaged together. Spoon, Fork, and Knife are a family with little salt and pepper packet babies, all nestled in their plastic wrapping, alongside the soft side of a napkin.
But these utensils…the ones on my desk…they are different. They were each packaged separately. Did the plastic-ware family get a divorce? The salt and pepper packets either ran away or grew up and moved out of the home….or got eaten. Now THAT would suck….but then again, they would have died while serving their whole life’s purpose. It is just too bad they were so young….so innocent……so salty. And where the hell is the spoon?? Probably off, forking around all over town! Slutty spoon…

Rando-Thoughts

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1. Ever have one of those days where it doesn’t matter how much coffee you drink, how much cold air blasts in your face, how many showers you take or how many jumping jacks you do, you just can’t seem to wake up? This is today.

2. I fail at eye-drops. Since I don’t feel like walking all the way to the bathroom to use the mirror, I re-wet my eyes/contacts at my desk. Unfortunately, my aim in general (with anything) is not the most stellar in the world. The first two drops generally end up rolling down my cheek, missing my eyes completely. The third drop might hit my lashes, giving me a very nice streak of mascara down my face. Finally, drops four and five are a bull’s-eye.

Then I repeat on the other side. SAME EXACT THING HAPPENS.

And there you have it; now I sit at my desk looking as if I just lost my dog and am an emotional mess, when truth be told….I just need better hand to eye coordination.

3. Stomach aches are stupid.

Tuesday Museday

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Today-Simply-Randomly-Written:

8:10am

A paraphrased conversation with a fellow employee this morning:

Susie:  I brought in more flavors of coffee today, so we aren’t stuck drinking the cat-piss kind.

Me: Oh yay!! What kinds?

Susie:  I got Toasted Pecan and Hazelnut; I bought the big bags, so you all can choose whatever flavor you want today.

Me: Oooh yum!!  What kind do you want?

Susie: Oh it doesn’t matter to me.

Me: Well, I vote for the nut one!

Susie:……………………they’re both nuts.

Me: Oh yah. (In my mind, I clearly meant “pecan”, but obviously, my logic is often nonsensical…especially when I lack coffee.)

This conversation gives proof to my “ditzy blonde” tendencies, from which I fear I will never escape! :)

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8:45am

Today is Heather’s birthday.  I decided I wanted to make it extra special, so I sent her a gift.  It should arrive in an envelope at some point later this morning.  Just a simple token of my affection:  A ziploc bag with pecans in it, labeled with a post it that reads, “Deez Nuts”.

Is there any other better gift during office hours for one’s birthday?  I doubt it.  Fuck flowers…this means SO much more!

(Okay, I know I’m full of it right now, but I am just super excited for her to receive them, and I hope she laughs her butt off!)

(10:30am—She sent me a text–pretty sure my mission was accomplished. *grin*)

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9:45am

Today, I received a “Merry Christmas” from one of my contacts at another business.  I thought that was sweet, so I had to send a Christmas Cat-Meme back.  ‘Tis the season for laughter!  (She loved it, btw.)

**COMMENCE WITH SENDING ALL THE CHRISTMAS MEMES!!!**

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1:00pm

The Christmas luncheon is over.  I am completely stuffed.  And upon someone opening up a gift that included almond coffee, Susie decided to call out to me, “Leah! There’s another nut for ya!!”  

Pretty sure everyone was confused and perhaps amused. 

Apparently, the theme of today is nuts.

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Nuts nuts NUTS…..and more nuts…………The End.

Random Ramblings 11-7

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I’ve decided that the male voice of our building’s elevators is malicious.  I mean, I hardly think that it’s a good thing to hear a menacing, robotic voice telling me I’m “going down”!  That just sounds like a threat to me.  They should just add “Sucka” to the end of the voice recording and be done with it!  Can you imagine?

You push the button with the down arrow picture on it, and the doors of the elevator open, warmly inviting you in…so you think.  Then, you press the button representing your desired floor, and the doors promptly CLOSE, trapping you inside the metal box, and a robotic voice exclaims, “You’re Going Down, SUCKA!”

Actually…they really should set the elevators up like that.  It’d be hilarious!

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Why has nothing been invented to alter taste buds?  I would love it if I could make cauliflower taste like Doritos.  I would eat ALL THE CAULIFLOWER.  What else?  Oh!  I want this taste-bud alter machine to also have texture capabilities…..anything soggy would be perceived as crunchy! YES!!!! 

Someone invent this…and then give me one…for Christmas. Thanks!

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Last night, I had a weird dream.  I’ll spare the details, but the gist of it is this:

Shannon and I bought a pig in Asia for a pet.  We brought it home.  I had a whole section of our deck set up for our new, little pet, complete with a blown up vanity. (I don’t know why.)  After bringing our little guy home, Shannon reads that there’s some disease that he can get, and now we have to get rid of the pig.  But I argue that the article he read says that the only way the pig will catch the disease is if we feed him an incredibly large amount of cake, and as long as we just never give him cake, we’ll be fine.  Shannon still doesn’t want to take that chance, and I’m all upset and trying to figure out how to keep our pig…..then I wake up.

WTF?

 

Play Along! :) Or Whatever…

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I had no idea that people did blog nominations, but it sounds like it could be fun!  Jess from www.objessions.com nominated me, but I have to admit that I may not completely follow the rules here.  I am supposed to list 11 random facts about myself, answer the questions she gave me, and then come up with another 11 questions for other people I nominate.  I’ll do the first two, but since, so far, I am not familiar enough with my bloggers to nominate someone right away, I’m not going to do so.  HOWEVER, I will come up with 11 questions for anyone to answer in the comments section, and we’ll pretend I nominated those people!  Sound good?

(One other thing—this reminds me of those old emails that used to be forwarded all over the place!  Remember the ones with a billion questions that you’d answer and then send back to whoever sent it, and then you’d forward them on for the next person?   Until this nomination, I had forgotten those existed!!  I used to enjoy them….so we’ll see how much I enjoy this new version!)

11 Random Facts about me:

1. I love singing!  Anyone who knows me knows that fact. BUT, I remember listening to music as a young girl, and since my singing voice was a soft one, I couldn’t hear myself if I sang the melody with the song.  So, I would sing other notes around the melody that fit it.  THUS, I learned to sing harmonies at an early age, by accident, just so I could hear myself sing along.

2.  I have my dog cuddled up to me right now (Coda, the Schipperke), and my cat (Buddy Van Bizzle Dizzle)  taking a tongue-bath inside a laundry basket to the left of us.

3.  I hate it when the floor of the bathroom is wet.  I also don’t like when the mirror fogs up, so I always shower with the door open.

4.  When I was a child, I was completely obsessed with owning all of the “Littlest Pet Shop” play-sets.  Now, I can only remember the name of the first one I ever got.  It was a cat whose magnetic head chased a magnetic mouse.  The cat’s name was “Miles”.

5.  In kindergarten, I was homeschooled, but my mom accidentally taught me through third grade…all while in “kindergarten”.

6.  I could eat pizza or Tex-Mex any and every day of the week.

7.  I never knew the word “fuck” existed until I was 15-16 years old.

8.  I once visited our Capitol Building on a Sunday by train….and accidentally caused several policemen and fire-trucks to arrive that day…twice.  There may or may not be long, lost footage of me pounding a gavel where a judge would normally sit on a weekday.

9.  I am 30 years old, and still have never been gambling at a casino.  I don’t mind.

10.  My first horror movie that I ever watched was at a friend’s house.  It was “Scream”. I ended up eating an entire bag of peanut butter cups that night during the movie, and so I was miserable the rest of the night.  I still enjoy that corny flick.

11.  I have incredibly GIGANTIC big toes.

To answer Jess’s questions:

1. What was the last concert you went to?  Favorite concert?

           My last concert was Buzz Beachball last Friday.  My favorite concert was probably Beachball last year, though.

2. What is your favorite place in the United States that you have been to?

          So far, probably New York City.

3. What is your all-time favorite book? Movie?

          I am such a fickle person, and I have a hard time picking a favorite when there are SO MANY GREAT choices!  I do happen to enjoy most books by Dean Koontz.  I also adore the Lucky Santangelo series by Jackie Collins.  Fave movie?  Okay, Jess, you’re asking multiple questions per question…isn’t that like cheating???  I can’t pick a favorite movie.  Again too many choices.  The most recent movies I bought were “Far and Away” and the second, most recent “Star Trek” (I still have to finish that one, though.)

4. Share a picture…(wait…that’s not a question, Jess…that’s a DEMAND!) lol

5. How much time (on average) do you spend on the internet per day?..

          TOO MUCH….maybe…probably.

6. What is your favorite genre of food?

          Mexican

7. What has been your favorite birthday?  What did you do that made it so special?

          Last year, my 29th birthday, was amazing, because to celebrate, my dad took me on a road trip to Chicago. SO FUN!!!!

8. What is your favorite song RIGHT NOW?

          HONESTLY, my favorite song at the moment is an original done by @Rizzimyers called “Light in the Dark”  It is AMAZING!! If you’re reading this, STOP…and go check it out. :) Yes, that’s her Twitter handle, and yes, she’s also on Youtube.

9. Are you a morning person or a night owl?

         I’ve always been more of a night owl, but in the past year, I’ve forced myself to become more of a morning person..slightly.   Okay, I’m still grumpy in the mornings, but at least it’s not to the point of “DEATH SCOWL” like it used to be.

10. What is your biggest pet peeve?

          Unwarranted anger.

11. What’s your favorite post you’ve ever written?

         Ummmm……I love ALL MY POSTS the same!!!! ;)

NOW FOR YOUR QUESTIONS!!!!!

1. If you had a pet dragon, what would you name it?

2. If you had to lose a limb, which one would you choose?

3.  How tall are you; how tall do you WANT to be?

4. What is the craziest thing you’ve done/seen……..in the past month?

5. Which is better: Oreos or Chips Ahoy?

6.  When is the last time you swung on a swing-set?

7.  If a pan-handler has a hilarious sign that literally makes you laugh aloud, would you donate money to that person?

8.  What is one of your guilty pleasures?

9.  What is your favorite time of day…besides 5;00?

10.  If you could have ANY view out your bedroom window, what would it be?

11.  How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

Okay! PHEW! Done.  Feel free to play along!  OR don’t!  I’m hoping to be entertained by your answers, but don’t worry!  My hopes aren’t raised super high…….just kinda….HI!

Hot As Ice #leahwouldramble

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All I needed were two ice cube trays; they were the final component in my ingredients for “Sunday Food Prep”, five days ago.   

 Dead set on my quest to have freezer smoothies as part of my food prep, I added the trays to last week’s Thursday grocery list.  There were three possible areas I knew of in the grocery store where I thought I could find ice cube trays.  To my dismay, not one area held the required item.  After double-checking with a Price Chopper associate, my fears were confirmed.  At this point, it was no matter, because I still had two days until Sunday to find them….somewhere.

Last Sunday arrived, and I knew where I could go.  “Big Lots—they MUST have them!” I thought.  The Hubbs and I searched a few aisles before approaching someone about them.  They directed us to the other end of the store, where our labors continued to provide no fruit!  Another employee then pointed us in another direction, and like little, lost puppies, we followed.  Again, no ice cube trays.  It had seemed all was lost, and we had spent 25 minutes wandering around in vain. 

Then FINALLY, in our last moments, when we’d almost given up, we spotted them.  3 trays in a pack, and one of those packages were ALL OURS!  With giddiness and a sense of accomplishment, we bought the ugly ice cube trays.  It had only taken a total of about 60 minutes within three days to find them! (An hour of life wasted on the search for ice cube trays.)

Fast-forward to last night.  It’s grocery night again, and I’ve returned to Price Chopper.  Unfortunately, my mood at this point in time can be described as “stabby”, since I all really wanted to do was kick things over and make a mess of anything in my path!!  After making it through the produce section successfully (meaning, I didn’t throw fruit at anyone or squeeze any bananas into oblivion), I meander past the “seasonal aisle”. 

BEHOLD!!!!!  ICE CUBE TRAYS!!!!  And NOT ONLY are they in the spot I’d looked for them just a week prior, but they are cheaper than the ones we bought, and they are BEAUTIFULLY COLORED!…

While screaming at the top of my lungs, I plucked each of the green trays from their hanging spot, and chucked it as hard as I could towards the produce section.  “You’re GREEN!! GO LIVE WITH YOUR GREEN RELATIVES!”  Then the orange ones, I threw across the ENTIRE STORE in a perfect spiral just like a football!  I then dropkicked all the blue ones towards the meat counter. “You want ICE?? I’ll give you ICE!!” All the rest of the rainbow colors, I slammed to the ground and then began jumping up and down on them, smashing them into tiny little pieces, so the ground looked as if it was covered in sharp, plastic confetti! 

“Where were you last week when I was looking for you??  What kind of cruel joke IS THIS???  NOW, YOU’RE PAYING FOR IT!!!!!!!!!!!  BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

(zoom out)

I snap back to reality, escaping my PMS-induced imaginary rampage!

Took a deep breath…and continued shopping….

#leahwouldramble Do a Happy Dance!

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Friday was a blast!  It involved me and my husband, Heather and her BF and her buddy, and Heidi and her Fiancé.  This is merely my side of the night’s story…

 We started early in the afternoon on a rooftop patio, with plates full of spicy nachos, hot wings, and potato boats.  Then, of course, there were the tasty libations.  I am a fan of beer, so I started out my drinking for the evening in a small way…three beers, and NONE of them light.  Then I thought, “Fuck that plate of nachos!  I don’t need no damn dinner!”  (And yes, that thought was in a sort of Southern twang accent.) I was already feeling a bit carefree.

 Eventually, when the need to relieve myself became urgent, I made my way to the restroom, which for some weird reason involved walking completely around the entire restaurant.  I thought it was odd that it was a single restroom…behind the cash register.  Upon reflection, I feared this may have been reserved for the employees, but at that point, it was too late.  That’s right; my piss—all in their toilet bowl!

A later trip with Heather to take another pee-break revealed that there was, indeed, another bathroom with multiple stalls.  It was hidden in the basement, after taking three staircases down, and passing a mysterious room full of various unused/discarded items.  (Seriously, it looked like a dusty flea market in that room!)  Was I expected to find this bathroom before…seriously?? How the hell was I supposed to know!?  I didn’t even see a bathroom SIGN!

 (There was probably a sign.)

When it became time to head over to our next location, my bladder was happily empty, and my tummy was happily full…of beer, with a few floating “nacho rafts”.  At our 2nd stop, we all shared some colorful fishbowls.  They…were…delicious!!!  And the neon straws were pretty exciting as well.  The best part was the fact that this is where my Hubbs joins us.  It was probably a good idea to have a sober/level head around at this point.

Then at our 3rd stop, we enjoyed cups full of more beer.  These cups were larger than my head…literally!  There was some pizza bought at this point, but I still had the “F*ck Food; I want this alcohol to do WORK!!” attitude.  I don’t remember how long we were on the roof of Kelly’s, but I know I liked it.

And finally…we reached our final destination for the evening.  I warned everyone that I didn’t know how to dance.  Oh, sure, I can keep a beat and move my hips with the music, but that’s the extent of it.  I know no dance moves, no tango, no cha-cha, not even a two-step!  Apparently, these facts go RIGHT OUT the window after a few cocktails and a happy night.  

The following may or may not be in perfect order and may or may not be slightly exaggerated.  This is how I was SURE things went down while there (and in parenthesis/italics is how it ACTUALLY looked):

“Wooooo! Let’s get this party started!!”  I holler to my girls as I sashay onto the dance floor. 

(“Woooo! Woooooo! (garbled incoherent something something) Wooooo!!” I yell to anyone who happens to be in a 50 ft radius as I stumble onto the dance floor, then back off the dance floor, then onto it again.)

While dancing, a well-known rap song comes on, and while shaking my ass, I’m rapping every single word perfectly with the artist playing over the speaker, surely impressing anyone around me.

(While ATTEMPTING to stay standing on heels while swaying hips, 2Pac’s “California” comes on.  “Wooooooooooooooooo!!!! I LOVE THIS SONG!!!  Yeeeeeaaaahhhh!!!!”  I mumble every fourth or fifth word AS IF I know the entire song, and stand perfectly still for 3 seconds in the middle of the dance floor just so I can try to remember it…then I shake my ass, while a few fellow dancers back away, frightened.)

While dancing, in a stunning and AMAZING display of grace and poise, I toss my purse into the air, do an awesome spin on my heels, then I catch my purse after my 180-degree turn.

(I start to trip over my heels and chuck my purse onto the ground and across the floor, then spin a few steps sideways, accidentally, while almost landing on my butt, and manage to scoop my purse back up off the ground and stagger back onto my feet as if nothing out of the ordinary happened.)

I notice a young woman on the edge of the dance floor who is wearing a crown.  She looks like she really wants to dance, so I ask her why she isn’t out there with all of us other girls.  She replies that her friends aren’t too into dancing, so I take her hand, and bring her over to join our group.  After all, since she is obviously celebrating one of her last free nights as a Bachelorette; she should REALLY rejoice to the fullest!

(I “dance” towards  a girl wearing a crown, who I assume is a bachelorette, and drag her onto the dance floor.  She is not a bachelorette.  She has just turned 21 and is out legally for the first time with her friends.  As she looks around with wide eyes because she doesn’t know how to respond, I continue to scream, “WOOOO!!! BACHELORETTE TURNED 21…DANCE…Us…YAH!! WOOOOO!!!! (some other garbled nonsense)”  She escaped me 5 minutes later, but not before I could photo-bomb at least one of her friends’ pictures.)

I am back to dancing with Heidi and Heather, and we are all smiles!

(I am back to moving around like a dumbass with Heidi and Heather, and we are all smiles!)

At this point, I’ve decided to bust out a new dance move that I totally made up all on my own, AT THAT very second.  It’s so clever and fun!  I call it ‘The Marionette’, because I basically move my hand in a way that suggests my legs are hooked to strings from somewhere, and then I hold my puppeteer hand over Heather so I can “control the robotic” movements.  Totally Fresh! Totally new!! Everyone is impressed!

(Without any explanation at all, I high-knee walk towards Heather, and then I hold my hand in a claw type shape over her head.  As she looks up, she is yelling the question, “Jellyfish??”, wondering what the f*ck I am doing.  What kind of signal am I making with my hand?  It really does just look like a jellyfish type motion or a 5 legged octopus inking all over the place. I respond loudly, “MA-nette see yah??”   My movements are questionable, at best, and as I glance around, smiling, our significant others are watching from the side, laughing their asses off at me.)

I sing along with any song I know at the top of my lungs.  Everyone is thrilled to hear me!

(I sing along with any song that I know and that I don’t know at the top of my lungs.  Nobody even notices.)

I drop it like it’s hot.

(I fall on my ass.)

While standing back up, I whip my hair around smoothly, while maintaining all of my composure, and continue to move like a pro.

(I fling my hands towards my hair to get it out of my face and manage to knock my earring to the ground, and then step on it, breaking it in half, before snatching it from the ground and sticking it in my pocket.   I stumble to my knees again, before heaving myself back up off the floor and have a near meltdown due to the broken jewelry, then keep dancing, because what else can I do?)

After about nine hours of drinking, celebrating, etc, I felt it was time to go.  My husband and I walked happily to the truck to go home.  An evening well spent!

(After about nine hours of all the celebrating, my husband spends 20  minutes convincing me that it’s time to leave, and after exiting the bar  I unevenly walk towards the truck, barefoot, and serenading all of Westport with a song that no one can understand, but me.)