Only 9 more days 'til I'm in Idaho!!! I can't WAIT to see Buddah and the whole fam!!! :-D
Anyway, Saturday was an epic night in the life of Kristina...
First, I started the night while doing Jameson Irish Whiskey promotions at various pubs around Manhattan, which went well, considering I consumed probably 8 shots of the troublesome drink... After which, Becky and I went to the $1 pizza stop and had to mingle with the bums 'til our turn came to eat the absolute BEST pizza in the city. Anyway, while stuffing my drunk face, I asked Becky to call her bf and find out what the heck was going on tonight, when lo and behold, he and 5 of his friends pull up to the pizza stop on a 6-person bicycle that they'd rented out for the evening.
anyhoo, after that random run-in, Becky and I went to a couple of bars to play some pool and put out the vibe on the dance floor. At our usual pool joint, some creepy massage therapist/tarot card reader/healer gave the both of us full-body massages in the bar, after which we decided to head to some place less sketchy. Anyhoo, while playing pool at our back-up pool joint (where the beer costs twice as much, but the pool's free), when we realized that our black-out wasted friends we'd run into at the pizza joint were in the same bar one floor up dancing their uncoordinated white hineys off.
Needless to say, we went up to join them and after a couple of free beers earned from a kindly bartender who took a little too much pleasure in watching us perform Napoleon Dynamite moves on the dance floor, Becky and the boys went up to the Upper East Side and I made my home to our crappy little apartment in Hell's Kitchen.
A joint and a screwdriver later, I was definitely tipsy, when my porn-star friend Pamela came over to hang out. Several shots of cheap-ass vodka and another couple of joints later, one might say that I was "blacked out". At which point I seemed to think that it would be a good idea to call EVERYONE in my phone until my battery ran out somewhere around 6:30 in the morning...
So at this point, I would like to apologize for anything I might have said while in that drunken-dialing state to everyone who has ever made the fatal mistake of giving me his or her phone number...in fact, I guess I'd better apologize twice to some people, because I apparently called Nick Dasher and God knows WHO else more than once within a matter of minutes with no recollection of having spoken to the other person earlier in the night... sorry...?
Anyway, I was in BEYOND classic form that night and woke up the next morning to a mess of spilled orange juice, spattered bacon grease everywhere, an empty fridge, and no idea of what the HECK had gone on within my apartment between the hours of 3 am and 1:30 pm.
Alcohol is the devil...
AND P.S.: CONGRATULATIONS MER!!!!!! YOU'RE OFFICIALLY DONE WITH COLLEGE!!!!! YOU ROCK AND I WISH MORE THAN ANYTHING THAT I COULD BE THERE FOR THE PARTY OF A LIFETIME THAT I'M SURE YOU'RE HAVING!!! I HEART U!!!! XOXOXOXO
Anyway, Saturday was an epic night in the life of Kristina...
First, I started the night while doing Jameson Irish Whiskey promotions at various pubs around Manhattan, which went well, considering I consumed probably 8 shots of the troublesome drink... After which, Becky and I went to the $1 pizza stop and had to mingle with the bums 'til our turn came to eat the absolute BEST pizza in the city. Anyway, while stuffing my drunk face, I asked Becky to call her bf and find out what the heck was going on tonight, when lo and behold, he and 5 of his friends pull up to the pizza stop on a 6-person bicycle that they'd rented out for the evening.
anyhoo, after that random run-in, Becky and I went to a couple of bars to play some pool and put out the vibe on the dance floor. At our usual pool joint, some creepy massage therapist/tarot card reader/healer gave the both of us full-body massages in the bar, after which we decided to head to some place less sketchy. Anyhoo, while playing pool at our back-up pool joint (where the beer costs twice as much, but the pool's free), when we realized that our black-out wasted friends we'd run into at the pizza joint were in the same bar one floor up dancing their uncoordinated white hineys off.
Needless to say, we went up to join them and after a couple of free beers earned from a kindly bartender who took a little too much pleasure in watching us perform Napoleon Dynamite moves on the dance floor, Becky and the boys went up to the Upper East Side and I made my home to our crappy little apartment in Hell's Kitchen.
A joint and a screwdriver later, I was definitely tipsy, when my porn-star friend Pamela came over to hang out. Several shots of cheap-ass vodka and another couple of joints later, one might say that I was "blacked out". At which point I seemed to think that it would be a good idea to call EVERYONE in my phone until my battery ran out somewhere around 6:30 in the morning...
So at this point, I would like to apologize for anything I might have said while in that drunken-dialing state to everyone who has ever made the fatal mistake of giving me his or her phone number...in fact, I guess I'd better apologize twice to some people, because I apparently called Nick Dasher and God knows WHO else more than once within a matter of minutes with no recollection of having spoken to the other person earlier in the night... sorry...?
Anyway, I was in BEYOND classic form that night and woke up the next morning to a mess of spilled orange juice, spattered bacon grease everywhere, an empty fridge, and no idea of what the HECK had gone on within my apartment between the hours of 3 am and 1:30 pm.
Alcohol is the devil...
AND P.S.: CONGRATULATIONS MER!!!!!! YOU'RE OFFICIALLY DONE WITH COLLEGE!!!!! YOU ROCK AND I WISH MORE THAN ANYTHING THAT I COULD BE THERE FOR THE PARTY OF A LIFETIME THAT I'M SURE YOU'RE HAVING!!! I HEART U!!!! XOXOXOXO
posted by Kristina }|{ at 2:40 AM
4 Comments:
Kristina: No, YOU-da-ho!
Happy New Year bitty! By the way, it's pretty awesome that christopherbenson9725 found your blog "inquisitive." I hear he has a knack for that sort of thing.
Also, it's too bad that the massage therapist from the bar wasn't also an analyst. Because being an analyst and a therapist makes you an "analrapist." (borrowed from Arrested Development)
I recently read an article in the WSJ about how blogs can sometimes incriminate would-be candidates for jobs.... ;)
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