I have gone out with mr. redbull twice since last weekend. Tuesday night we went to Thai food and then drinks. He brought me a single pink rose when he picked me up for dinner. Sorry girls, nothing scandalous happened after and I have no idea if he's a boxers, briefs, or boxer-briefs sort of guy.
We also went out Saturday night, just for late night drinks. This time, we went to Tacho's where they happen to have karaoke in the bar at night. I did NOT sing! Unlike riding a mechanical bull, I absolutely must be plastered beyond belief to sing in public into a microphone. Two margaritas is not nearly enough to make me sound decent to myself let alone anyone else. And no, I still don't know the boxers/briefs/boxer-briefs answer.
Tacho's fashion commentary:
If you weigh over 300 lbs., you need to be a linebacker for the Duck's, not a fat girl in a Duck's tee's with stretchy denim legging pants. If that wasn't enough, there were three of them. And for the lady in the black tank, "mom jeans" with tapered legs have no rightful place on this earth - next time, just say NO! Lastly, I have not fully endorsed the pants tucked into your boots trend, yet I can see that certain people can pull this look off. Unfortunately, none of them were there this night.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Vodka + Tequila = Mechanical Bull Rides
This past Saturday night we all celebrated a friend's birthday at Duke's. Silly me, I invited NYB (that's New Year's Boy) to show up. In hindsight, that was STUPID!!! I told NYB earlier in the week that I was headed to Duke's on Saturday night with my friends, and that him and his friends were welcome to join up with us. This is first time I had invited him anywhere that our "peeps" might inter-mingle. One of the reasons I invited him is the last time I was at Duke's, it was such a meat market I figured there was no way I would possibly meet anyone this time. Ooh boy, was I wrong.
After a warm-up vodka and absolut at the house, we headed over to the bar to save tables. First arrivals to our little celebration included a very gorgeous guy (tall, dark hair, dressed sharp, NOT a cowboy) so of course I ask for a status report and what do you know, he's available. He buys me another absolut & cran., he gets another red bull & vodka (hence I will refer to him as mr. red bull) and we agree that for a tequila shot I will go ride the mechanical bull. Keep in mind, I haven't done a shot of ANYTHING AT ALL, let alone tequila, in damn near 7 years. Voice of experience and the 20/20 vision of hindsight speaking, your first shot after not drinking very much for years should not be tequila. However, at this point in the night, NYB is running late and not arrived at the bar yet. And so mr. redbull and I walk over so I can take that mechanical bull ride.
I sign my life away so I can't sue them for injuring my drunk ass when I fall off the bull, and mr. redbull heads back to tell everyone else to watch. As I climb on, I'm told to hold on to the front of the bull with my legs and grip the rope in my right hand. (Guess I should've brought the cowboy hat... oh well). They start the bull and as it rotates around, I see NYB and his buddies. Oh well, cowgirl up!
Apparently, I did OK on the bull since complete strangers were high-fiving me while I walked back across the bar thinking "holy shit, how do I keep these guys separate since we're all here for the same party?" After a quick girls room trip, I barricaded myself against a wall behind my girlfriends and drank down another absolut & cran. I'm not entirely sure where NYB and I stand since he's such a sweetheart and acts like my BF even though we've never had the 'lets be exclusive' talk, and I'm so all about mr. redbull. Now what do I do?
Fortunately, NYB is chillin' with his friends and I'm "busy" talking to my girlfriends although I keep glancing over to check out mr. redbull. Damn, he's cute but how am I gonna finish out the evening with both of them in the same bar?
My answer arrived when mr. redbull and his friends left for another bar - but not before we traded numbers. My night could have easily ended on that positive note, except for the fact I was talked into another bull ride by someone else. Yeehaw! Note for next time - One ride is OK, two pretty much kicks your ass.
Fashion commentary:
Mere observations from the night - when wearing tight black leather pants, make sure your gut isn't hanging out over the top of them below your crop top. Shoes appropriate for a country bar do NOT include open toed white sandals, and most certainly not with nylons. Leather pants are OK, black shiny vinyl not so much. And if your ass is wider than the mechanical bull and they have to readjust the stablizers when you're done riding, you don't belong up there and no one on the dance floor really wants to see that anyway (I know I could've gone my whole life without seeing it).
Rock on!
After a warm-up vodka and absolut at the house, we headed over to the bar to save tables. First arrivals to our little celebration included a very gorgeous guy (tall, dark hair, dressed sharp, NOT a cowboy) so of course I ask for a status report and what do you know, he's available. He buys me another absolut & cran., he gets another red bull & vodka (hence I will refer to him as mr. red bull) and we agree that for a tequila shot I will go ride the mechanical bull. Keep in mind, I haven't done a shot of ANYTHING AT ALL, let alone tequila, in damn near 7 years. Voice of experience and the 20/20 vision of hindsight speaking, your first shot after not drinking very much for years should not be tequila. However, at this point in the night, NYB is running late and not arrived at the bar yet. And so mr. redbull and I walk over so I can take that mechanical bull ride.
I sign my life away so I can't sue them for injuring my drunk ass when I fall off the bull, and mr. redbull heads back to tell everyone else to watch. As I climb on, I'm told to hold on to the front of the bull with my legs and grip the rope in my right hand. (Guess I should've brought the cowboy hat... oh well). They start the bull and as it rotates around, I see NYB and his buddies. Oh well, cowgirl up!
Apparently, I did OK on the bull since complete strangers were high-fiving me while I walked back across the bar thinking "holy shit, how do I keep these guys separate since we're all here for the same party?" After a quick girls room trip, I barricaded myself against a wall behind my girlfriends and drank down another absolut & cran. I'm not entirely sure where NYB and I stand since he's such a sweetheart and acts like my BF even though we've never had the 'lets be exclusive' talk, and I'm so all about mr. redbull. Now what do I do?
Fortunately, NYB is chillin' with his friends and I'm "busy" talking to my girlfriends although I keep glancing over to check out mr. redbull. Damn, he's cute but how am I gonna finish out the evening with both of them in the same bar?
My answer arrived when mr. redbull and his friends left for another bar - but not before we traded numbers. My night could have easily ended on that positive note, except for the fact I was talked into another bull ride by someone else. Yeehaw! Note for next time - One ride is OK, two pretty much kicks your ass.
Fashion commentary:
Mere observations from the night - when wearing tight black leather pants, make sure your gut isn't hanging out over the top of them below your crop top. Shoes appropriate for a country bar do NOT include open toed white sandals, and most certainly not with nylons. Leather pants are OK, black shiny vinyl not so much. And if your ass is wider than the mechanical bull and they have to readjust the stablizers when you're done riding, you don't belong up there and no one on the dance floor really wants to see that anyway (I know I could've gone my whole life without seeing it).
Rock on!
Sunday, February 11, 2007
You Need a Massage
"You're under so much stress. Your shoulders feel really tense. You need to schedule a massage." Well no shit! Yes, I do need a massage and thank you Mom & R. for suggesting it. Now will you be paying for it too? Last time I checked I just paid a car repair bill, an attorney retainer, and I'm the only one contributing to improvements on the house to sell it. Exactly where am I supposed to find the money for a massage? My lousy tax refund might make a dent in the credit card.
If anyone needs me, I'll be collecting the change from the car ashtray.
If anyone needs me, I'll be collecting the change from the car ashtray.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Lifestyles of the poor and trashy
This past Wednesday, in typical "when it rains it pours" fashion, my furnace decided I did not need heat in my house any longer and it absolutely was not going to come on. Of course, I only discovered this at 10 o'clock that night. Hmmm, what to do? I called the service number on the paperwork. What do you know, the service box is full and they will get back to me the next business day. Fine, I didn't want to pay extra for an after-hours house call anyhow.
At this point, since M. was at her dad's house, I did what any sensible single woman would do... I gathered the dogs and had them sleep on my bed. Morning arrives and it's a blazing 55 inside. I think it was colder than that but the thermostat only shows down to 55. When the furnace company finally calls me back, they have good news in that I will be next in line but that their repairman is in Ridgefield and won't get to me until late afternoon. But they'll call when they are on the way. OK, so at this point it is so freakin' cold I can't even type which eliminates all possibilities of working from home (or even goofing off at home) and if I need to be close enough to home that I can get here when they do call, I need to be closer than work. Dad's house, here I come.
Spending the afternoon with the parents is pretty OK. It reminds you why you moved out in the first place. As I wait ever so patiently for the furnace repairman to call, I endure Passions, and Days of Our Lives, and some HGTV all while trying to hijack a wireless network so I can check emails. Big event in Dad & K.'s life is they are going out to dinner at "the buffet" that night. I'm not familiar with "the buffet" so I ask for details. Oh, they are going to HomeTown Buffet and I'm welcome to join them.
The furnace finally gets fixed and I pick up M. from school. I explain that we're going out to dinner with G'ma & G'pa and her cousin at a restaurant called HomeTown Buffet. Now kids and old people love buffet style restaurants (and it's cheap too since it's only $.90 per year old the kids are) so she's loving this, and the fact you can walk right in and eat without all the waiting that takes place at a normal restaurant. The only problem with this for me, is the concept of "all you can eat" brings out the people who take that as a challenge. Like the couple who had to move their chairs further apart (and I mean a couple of feet further apart) in order for them both to sit on the same side of the table.
After a lovely dinner at "the buffet", (which I will admit was decent food but there's no possible way for me to eat enough that it's worthwhile for me), we couldn't possibly let the night end there. As if it were destiny (but more likely a stroke of marketing genious), we walked next door to the dollar store.
At this point, since M. was at her dad's house, I did what any sensible single woman would do... I gathered the dogs and had them sleep on my bed. Morning arrives and it's a blazing 55 inside. I think it was colder than that but the thermostat only shows down to 55. When the furnace company finally calls me back, they have good news in that I will be next in line but that their repairman is in Ridgefield and won't get to me until late afternoon. But they'll call when they are on the way. OK, so at this point it is so freakin' cold I can't even type which eliminates all possibilities of working from home (or even goofing off at home) and if I need to be close enough to home that I can get here when they do call, I need to be closer than work. Dad's house, here I come.
Spending the afternoon with the parents is pretty OK. It reminds you why you moved out in the first place. As I wait ever so patiently for the furnace repairman to call, I endure Passions, and Days of Our Lives, and some HGTV all while trying to hijack a wireless network so I can check emails. Big event in Dad & K.'s life is they are going out to dinner at "the buffet" that night. I'm not familiar with "the buffet" so I ask for details. Oh, they are going to HomeTown Buffet and I'm welcome to join them.
The furnace finally gets fixed and I pick up M. from school. I explain that we're going out to dinner with G'ma & G'pa and her cousin at a restaurant called HomeTown Buffet. Now kids and old people love buffet style restaurants (and it's cheap too since it's only $.90 per year old the kids are) so she's loving this, and the fact you can walk right in and eat without all the waiting that takes place at a normal restaurant. The only problem with this for me, is the concept of "all you can eat" brings out the people who take that as a challenge. Like the couple who had to move their chairs further apart (and I mean a couple of feet further apart) in order for them both to sit on the same side of the table.
After a lovely dinner at "the buffet", (which I will admit was decent food but there's no possible way for me to eat enough that it's worthwhile for me), we couldn't possibly let the night end there. As if it were destiny (but more likely a stroke of marketing genious), we walked next door to the dollar store.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)