Posts Tagged 'drinking games'

Due to circumstance, I am prohibited about writing about my dating life. Actually, not so much “prohibited” as trying my bestest to abstain. As a result, I was finding it really difficult to write posts to inhabit my blog. Turns out there isn’t much to my life except lists and boys [and drinking].

Then, someone said “Predator.” [Bear with me people, this is a desperation post]

The mention of the movie title instantly took me back to my New York Era [aka – the Good Old Days, the Always Broke Days, the Really Badly Behaved Days, and Damn My Apartment Is Small And Really Expansive Days], where I spent the vast majority of my days and nights with a pack of five guys [one of them being my then boyfriend] with the occasional rif/raff random unsavory character mixed in. We spent about 5% our time being students [typically, the week or two before finals], 20% sleeping, and the rest [don’t ask me what “the rest” equals, I forgot math after high school] engaging in some combination of drinking/eating [tacos usually]/watching tv/general time wasting. Mostly drinking and wasting time. Or are those the same thing? Gosh, I was so good at wasting time back then.

On one particular night we all decided [one person decided, the rest of us were sheep] to gather at home base for what seemed at the time the to be the Worst. Plan. Ever. We were supposed to eat, drink, hang out [ok so far]…and watch the critically acclaimed movie Predator 2 [this is where the plan was lost me]. About three minutes into the movie, someone thought we ought to kick it up a notch by making bets on what point in the movie Gary Bussy was going to die*. There was an over/under, vegas style, and each person had to pick a specific time. You would think a bet of this nature would require some sort of high stake to be exciting, but in our case, the sheer glory of being right was always enough.

Immediatly after the bets were memorialized on the white board [why was a white board on hand? I have no idea] the night was transformd from a regular drinking night in a teeny tiny New York City apartment [which, by the way, had mice] into complete and utter magic. The highlight was when Garry Bussy died [or seemed to anyhow] and then came back to LIFE! AND THEN DIED AGAIN!!! Seriously, an outside observer would think our fathers had just won the world series or the presidency or something. It was sheer pandemonium. So much drama. So much fun!

A friend of mine was in town visiting me that weekend and was on hand to witness the glory. I will never forget her glancing over to me at one point with the look that said “So, this hooting and hollering, couch-jumping, Predator 2 watching jackass is your boyfriend? And these are the future high powered lawyers of America?”

Priceless.

* Come to think of it, I don’t remember if it was Gary or some other actor.

Protected: I may have a drinking problem.

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Some lessons are hard to learn.

Soooo. Some of you may recall a certain lesson on decorum learned a few posts back. Well, turns out the lesson was not so much learned. In fact, I do believe I took the drunken jackass antics to a whole new level last night.

It all started innocently enough – happy hour with a few coworkers at a posh Los Angeles hotel (read:: bosses were there). I am not sure how it went from innocuous thank fucking god it’s Friday chit chat to me challenging the managing partner’s brother to a “gangster rap off” – but somewhere in between I got really really drunk. Like, REALLY drunk. And as more of the night comes back to me, I am realizing that the gangster rap off was not the worst of it.

From what I can piece together, the night involved group dancing/flailing around at some Los Angeles night club, hearing more than once something to the effect of “wow Diet Coke, you really don’t hold back, do you?”, a late late night cap at the boss’s Crib (in keeping with the gangster theme), lots of Johnny Blue, an impromptu blackjack tournament, my getting lessons on how to style my bangs from some gals, dancing on top of tables at the Four Seasons, dancing on top of tables at Foxtail, dancing on top of tables at the Crib, Taco Bell, and passing out.

The good part is, everyone else was as decorum-less as I, and the night was insanely fun.

Still, I am not looking forward to Monday.

The day the music died. In Silverlake. At a bar.

The Silverlake Hipster contingent likes their juke music, as I discovered on a recent trip to 4100 Bar, which is probably one of my top 5 east side bars.

Certain Someone and I descended upon 4100 Bar at around 9:30 after dinner at Malo down the street. First off let me say, I do not recommend Malo. Any Mexican Restaurant that makes you pay for salsa is not ok. This is the kind of trend that will result in McDonald’s charging for straws or Taco Bell for sporks (aka – end of the world).

When we first got to 4100 Bar, the place was pretty empty, allowing us to cozy up to two bar stools right by the vaunted Juke Box. Immediately, Certain Someone started demanding I procure dollar dollar bills to start playing some music. Having quit my job at the strip club, I was fresh out. When we tried to get some change for a five from the bar back, we were informed the box had run amok, playing tunes at will – ignoring the wishes of its paying clientele. As the place started to fill up, LITERALLY 30 people walked up to the Juke to try to put their money in (some actually did) and were crushed to learn that it was broken.

All through the bar, there was malcontent, snickering and suspicion over the lack of musical styling. Just as we had all lost faith – reconciled ourselves to an evening of silence followed up by 30 second bits of random songs followed by more silence – the doors swung open. A light shone in. And entered – the Juke Box Man. He whipped out a box of magical tools, and before I could say Hoe Gardin three times, the music was back.

And all was good in Silverlake again.

Confused.

Confusion seems to be pretty much the only thing I am feeling these days. I spent all day at work slaving over a filing that needed to be made – which filing was of course due yesterday. The partner who assigned me the wretched task assured me that the whole process would take no longer than three hours. Diet Coke, he said emphatically, you will be done in time for lunch. Fast forward eight hours later and there I sat, in the same seat, still not done. And still not having had eaten lunch. Feeling utterly confused.

I rushed out of work to meet up with the Philosopher for dinner/drinks. Shortly after my previous post about the confusion he was causing by toying with me, he made the best decision any man can make. He asked me out. Our meeting started out with the usual pleasantries – “hello, how are you, where you from, who you be with” etc, etc, blahpity-blah. As our blood alcohol levels rose, so too did the fun quotient of our conversation. By the time we were three glasses of wine deep, I had already convinced him to flash his very silly yet endearing tattoo (to the extent a tattoo can be endearing) and a sort of truth or dare (minus the dare) banter was exchanged. We covered religion (he has none), drug use (he does none),

and a few other things (that I don’t recall). It was fun. And, alas, it was confusing.
Which confusion begets further confusion – because why should a fun date be a source of confusion? Probably because of the underlying confusion I feel about Certain Someone. He and I had exchanged several emails yesterday trying to come to a mutual understanding about what the hell was going on between us. And I thought that we had. But then instead we spent the better part of the time since then not communicating at all, or being mad/sad/confused at each other.
Will I ever reach an age or a place in my life where things just make sense and I know what to do and how to handle situations?
I am starting to doubt it.

PROJECT RUNWAY: A live blogging experiment

PreGame show::

The countdown is on (10 minutes, to be exact)!! The Show of All Shows (aka Project Runway) is about to begin. I am nervous/excited/hungry. I hope that I am not a failure at live blogging – and thereby, life.

In order to enhance the experience, I have decided to introduce a new element in the program which I have deemed “Project Run and Drink”. The rules are that every time Cry Baby Ricky sheds a tear, all participants in Project Run and Drink must run to their liquor cabinet and take a swig of whatever high proof concoction is available.

The Show::

10:00:: The show is starting! Whohooo!

10:01:: Christian does his hair. Ricky-poo cries. Jkjkjk. Almost though!

10:02:: Kit does annoying “yes” thing with her mouth upon hearing the challenge is to be avant-garde. Certain Someone announces that Chris is the “Dark Horse,” showing he knows nothing about anything. Sweat P rudely usurps Christian’s “Fierce” – and sounds decidedly UN-fierce (although it is really is Tyra Banks’ “fierce” I suppose).

10:04:: Ricky-poo announces that he wants to “play” with a girl. Doubtful.

10:05:: Team Challenge!! NOOOOOO!!!!!! Certain Someone called the Chris/Chris combo and is busy basking in his own glory.

10:07:: Designers describing their looks. blah blah blah. Jillian and Victoria are already at it. I predict a girl fight.

10:08:: Priceless Christian Quote #1 – “If I was a diva, my name would be ferosh.” As in ferocious.

10:10:: Certain Someone declares that Rami and Sweet P have the hots for one another. I think I may have to break up with him (see 10:02 and 10:05). Also, my fingers are tired.

10:11:: SHOCKER!!! Rami is draping. Hold onto your seats.

10:12:: Rami talks about his ass. Yes please.

Commercial Break.

10:16:: Show resumes. Sweat P hopes Rami is no longer being a b-i-t-c-h (when did Rami turn into such an asshole, BTW). Ricki poo almost cries.

10:17:: ANOTHER LOOK! The shock, the horror! Designers need to compose a sellable look for their avant-garde look. Ricki poo almost cries. Jillian does her signature “omgomgomg, I am just gonna DIE” thing. I am pretty sure she annoys me. And not in a good way.

10:19:: Rami and Sweet P are the new Jillian and Victoria. Girl fight!!!!

10:20:: Models come in for fitting. Rami continues to…wait for it…drape. One of the models shows off her bon bon. Her bon-bon as it turns out, is better than the dress designed for her.

10:21:: Jillian continues to annoy. She is complaining about not being done and running out of time. I am no longer sad that she lost the candy challenge. Christian and Chris make their model look like a bad gift wrapping job. Awesome Christian Quote #2: “You gotta bring it back from the side – and TURN!” while walking the catwalk like the glorious queen he is.

10:23:: Sweet P is the new Ricki! May need to change the rules of Project Run and Drink to account for this latest twist.

Commercial Break. Note: Watching show is not NEARLY as enjoyable if one has to type like a mad woman at the same time!

10:29:: I am officially in love with Tim G. The way he says “designers AND models.” I just love it. Rami nods his head. Jillian nods her head. Nathaniel the hair guy makes an announcement – winner gets to be in Elle magazine.

10:30:: Tim G. dubs Chris/Chris “Team Fierce!” LOVE IT.

10:31:: Ricky tries to get Tim G. to give him the answers to the test. Tim G. rebuffs his offer.

10:32:: Rami has really become the most annoying Project Runway character of all time. He is completely trying to hoodwink Sweet P and make it look like she is being problematic, when in fact, he has been intolerable the entire time. He needs to get body slammed by Chris.

10:33:: Jillian freaks out about not being done. From now on, when I say “Jillian!” it means “Jillian is complaining about X.”

10:33:: Chris is wearing the most awesome outfit EVER. Animal print! Whohoo. Jillian! Tim G. does interesting hand clap maneuver that made Certain Someone comment. I am not, however, sure what he said because I tuned him out at around 10:11.

10:34:: I am really worried about Team Fierce. Their dresses look like 1) crazy layer makes no sense style and 2) un-hot librarian style. I hate to admit, but I kind of like Rami’s dress. A lot a lot. He is still my PR nemesis though. I only caught a glimpse of what Ricki poo and Kit did, but I am not sure I like it.

Commercial break.

10:41:: Heidi is wearing a dress that is oooogly, but as always, she looks hot. I’d do her. Sweet P appears to be a fan of guest judge Alberta Ferreti.

10:42: Rami’s dress is pretty awesome. I like it. And I also like Sweet P’s dress. Well done. Rami is still a little bitch though. Nina G either wants to vomit on Team Fierce’s dress or she wants to put it on. I can’t really tell. I kind of like the avant garde dress after all because it was just so damn crazy and unique…but I find the ready to wear a little boring – but not ugly.

10:44:: Ricki Poo and Kit – Overall – hated it. I did, however, enjoy the back of the avant garde dress. The rest of it was like bad 80’s prom. The ready to wear was just too blah. Very forever 21.

Victoria and Jillian – Loved the jacket. Love love love love love. The ready to wear was no where as cool as the jacket for the avant garde, but still pretty cute and neat looking.

10:46:: Judges announce that Rami/Sweet P and Ricki Poo/Kit are the lowest score. Rami looks like he may explode. The judges wonder aloud whether Rami will ever do anything in his life but drape. Diet Coke thinks it is unlikely. Sweet P says words that should never ever be spoken: “explosions out of her rear.” Um, I vote no on that.

10:47:: Judges lambaste Ricki/Kit for their monstrosity of a dress. Ferreta says a bunch of words I can’t understand – but I like how they sound just the same. She is probably right.

10:52:: Judges have made their decision. Contestants come back out!!! Ricki poo on the verge of tears.

Commercial Break. I want Rami to get voted off because I think he needs an ego check (in addition to the body check to be delivered by Chris as suggested above) but I think Ricky poo is the more likely “auf”. He has basically consistently sucked. And not in a good way.

10:56::

The winner: CHRISTIAN!!! Who does a frightening little jig upon his return to the rec room.

The Loooooser: Oh shit!! Ricki is in! Sweet P is in! It’s between the Rama-Lama ding dong and Kit.

10:58:: Kit is OUT sauce. I am shocked!! This is totally wrong. I am mad mad mad!

10:59:: Kit almost cries. But then does not. And then says she has “two full suitcases of friends…” Umm.

11:02:: I am done with this. Live blogging is hard work. And so is being as awesome as I am. And yet, I continue.

Next week on PR::

Ricki cries and Jillian! Jillian Jillian!!

Also::

Does anyone else think that Nicki Taylor looks freakishly weird on that model show??