Pongin' It In Beer Stylie

I played Beer Pong for the first time this weekend.

(that's right, first. time. played. And the answer is yes. Yes I do live under a rock thank you.)

(but My rock is Super Fantastic I. Will. Have. You. Know.) 

It'll likely be my last time I play seeing as- I suck at it. 

(Big time suck.) 

....Unless of course you count making into my own cup.

...or regular cups...

...or empty cups...

...or the rinse cups...

...Just not the cups I actually aim for, if those cups were the Gold Standard I would KICK ASS in a Super Fantastic way at Beer Pong.

But NotSoMuch.

I'm convinced that the ball had it's own agenda, like it was possessed or something.

Possessed by a....

...a...

a  poltergeist! 

That's it!! 

A Ping Pong Poltergeist!!

 

 Who Knew? 

That little maniac needs to be exorcisted or something I tell ya!

Bust out the holy water! 

Say some prayers! 

Drink some wine! 

(FYI, Wine is holy and it works best when ingested)

(Hey I don't make the rules, I just live by them...)

(Okay, I make up the rules sometimes...but you gotta admit-the wine one. The Wine One is Golden!)

What Happened?

Today is day 4 of no credit/debit cards.

I am a survivor.

Okay, I am surviving off an AmEx gift card that I got for Christmas. Ya, I know, unbelievable right? Nobody, nobody still has gift cards left over from Christmas and especially not one that can be used practically everywhere*. But I do (an exception to the rule? Maybe.) and without it I would be broke out on the streets with a piece of cardboard and an old tin coffee cup that I took from a sleeping Vietnam war vet (or whatever their called) next to the freeway begging for extra change.

Or not. But it’s been tough without my cards. (They’re like my grown-up blanky.)

But I guess you reap what you sowe. (Or something.)

Everybody has their drinks of choice. Mine (lately) are champagne, wine or Margaritas (I love me some Tequila). But Saturday night, already irritated with the meanness of my friend sober was not what I wanted to be, I was getting down to biznaz which (to me) is AMF. Also known as an “Adios Mother F***er” or simply “Adios”, it’s blue, it’s yummy, warms the tummy and well, it’s all in a name, right? Right.

Three (heavy handed) AMF’s later, a shot of Kamikazi, a sudden (turn for the worst)head/stomach change and a flash of realization that I had not eaten dinner and Houston, we have a problem! Immediately started flashing through my mind in big, bright, Vegas-style letters. (Not helping.)

Ugliness ensues…

So anyway, I have a kick ass card case with 4 cards in it: Driver Liscense, Debit Card, Visa, AmEx. In other words, this card case is My World. (Or Grown-Up Blankey. Either way.) Gone. Missing. Shit. Shit. Shit!

Why is it that the most beautiful Sundays gets no love from me because some kind of twisted law of being in your 20’s that I must be hung over in the event of a pretty [Sun]day?

Or does the day just seem pretty in contrast to my mental (read: want to hibernate in a dark cave with my blankey- the non-plastic, non-grown-up, warm, soft and cuddly one.) state?

Either way. This law must be banned. (BANNED!!)

I called my friend. Nothing. I checked all my cards and cancelled them. I freaked out when I heard the balance on my AmEx card. What? Almost $300 I’m only a week into my billing period! Oh. Yeah. All me. (Damn.)

My friends ended up finding my lost goods. (Actually, I’m still missing my Cherry Chapstick but I’m a survivor. I will prevail. AmEx to the rescue!)

Lessons of a Shit-Faced Saturday night:

- Eat before drinking.

- 3 AMF’s is too much for me no matter how much I’ve eaten. Don’t do it.

- Mission: Get Wasted is equivalent to Mission: Fail (oh the irony…). Don’t do it.

- Bitchy friends leads to 3 AMF’s and a Kamikazi which leads to Bad News Bears. Don’t do it.

*I use this term loosely. To my dismay AmEx is not accepted everywhere. Which is a damn shame cuz the card is just so pretty and I get reward points and who doesn't love rewards? (And if you don't love rewards than you are clearly an Alien and I have 29,384,382,028+++ questions for you.)

2009 Trends stay the same...

A week and a half off work and now I'm back! No wait- who put that exclamation point there? Really, it's a sad face and a cry out for some drink! (Spike my Starbucks with Baileys please. Thanks.) (They really should sell shots of Baileys though, right!) Today is actually day 2 at work. I was here yesterday but I wasn't here yesterday, y'knowat am sayin'?

I was hoping (kinda-resolutions…) that I would come back to the office and a mountain of sweets to climb would await me upon my return to the IceCubey to help me cope. Sure enough it was Everest but with twice the cold and minus the sweet mountains. So I guess it is more Antarctica than Everest.

Clearly, the cold has affected my ability to think properly. But I can type with gloves like a Champ! Oh yeah and my floor heater died. I [repress bad memories and] forgot all about work [as soon as I walked out the door] (coulda been the copious amounts of wine too-either way.) and my dire need to buy a new floor heater.

IceCubey – 2, S. – -5 and [frozen] solid.

I'm considering changing the name of this blog to "The Little Eskimo" (nickname at home) or "Hell Froze Over, I'm in It" or "Typing With Gloves" or "Brrrrrrr!" or "Warm and Fuzzy Don't Live Here" or "FrostBitten and Bitching" or "Fighting the Frost. & Losing." or "Fu-fu-fu freezing" or "The Cold is My Kryptonite" or something….but maybe (please, Please, Pleeeeeeze!!!) things will change in the summertime? (I'm wishin. And hopin'. And prayin'.)

I did get my Christmas wish though! We've had the heater since Christmas Eve (at home)! Yay! AND I got a new blanket. So (at 74) I'm no longer wearing a beanie and gloves but I AM still wearing 2 pairs of pants plus knee high socks and a pullover a longsleeve shirt to bed. I'm pretty sure I'm cold blooded.

My New Years was awesome though. Hit up a couple of parties. Our designate [*cough* *cough* drunk] driver got lost. Maybe she was feeling lady luck on her side because we was headed toward the casino. Between us and the casino-(dark) desert; and after the casino-(dark) desert. (She caught on and found her way- no casino. More wine money for us!)

But then there was the spilling,

(I need to invest in a sippy cup.)

I did not fall.

I did not puke.

I spilled.

I even spilled (red wine) on my friends shirt. He now has a red nipple on his blue shirt. He wasn't drunk enough to go with my foresight that it would be the new trend of 2009. Nor was he for my idea to spill red wine

all over to make the rest of the shirt the same.

His loss. You just wait. It's gonna be a trend. I'm convinced. (I convinced myself.)

OPEN! SESAMEEEEE!!!!

Have you ever tried to open a regular door with your Car's Keyless entry instead of a key?

No?

Heh.Heh. Me neither.

Just checking.

Santa Baby, Hurry down the Chimney Tonight!

Anybody who works in an office knows that kitchen cleanliness is always an issue.

There is always somebody who leaves their food in the fridge turning it into a science project, dirty coffee mugs left unwashed in the sink, coffee, creamer, crumbs & stuff on the counters. Explosions happening in the microwave leaving food all over the place....my office is no exception.

My soup exploded in the microwave today; on all 6 surfaces.

When other office employees see a mess they get all irritated and say something like, "Is this the way they are at home? Just leaving thier mess for somebody else to clean up after!"

Why, yes. Yes, it is.

As I was wiping it up the thought struck me that if I were at home I would not be doing this. (Yeah, that's right. Would NOT be cleaning it up) We have a housekeeper that comes, so on the rare occasion that something should explode or overflow in the microwave, I leave it. I'm a brat like that but she gets paid so everybody's happy (as far as I'm concerned).

Irma, I thank you for cleaning up all my microwave mishaps and making my house all sparkly and clean. I had to do it myself today. I did not enjoy. You're a champ. You deserve a raise (see: Mom).

Hopefully, Obama (and his team of highly paid professionals) can turn this economy so I can get a (BIG FAT) raise, a bonus, an office Christmas Party and an Irma at work.

Santa,

I've been pretty good this year. There's the list. Do your thing.

P.S. Please refrain from keeping "big fat" on my body.

P.P.S. Or if you just wanna get me a winning Lottery ticket, that would do too.

Closet Blogging

Everyday I go to work. I have an [un]exciting job. My daily highlights are e-mailing KOAM (self proclaimed King of all Mexicans--he nicknamed himself) & Dodger Drinks-a-ton and reading blogs. They're not men of many words. They e-mail me like a sentence or so and I reply back with a full (colorful) paragraph of purely random ridiculousness (complete with my own crazy-creation background). This (and Tapatio) is what spices up my day. I'm exciting.

KOAM started a blog in which he will blog his journey "from fat to fit" and going for his dream of fighting in the MMA. I'm the encourager. He asked me to write his About Me section and he also wants me to post 2-3 blogs a month on his blog. Done and done. I'm honored.

I ask him his progress on the blogging all the time. I recommend blogs to him. We talk blog. I encourage. Except now he has this crazy idea that I should start a blog.

No, crazy boy.

I'm a closet blogger. I'm keeping it that way!

Granted, should he stumble upon my blog, it's not so anonymous. But I still refuse to TELL him about it. I'm embarrassed or something. I don't really have good reason. He has this crazy idea that "it would be so interesting to read through your everyday life". He's trying to have me believe that I'm a good writer and I'm interesting. Sadly, Notsomuch. But he's a good friend.

That's what good friends do, they encourage (and lie to you to pump you up).

I didn't even start this blog with the intention of it being public. I started it because I just like to write and this way if I have internet access then I've got a place to lay down some thoughts (or rants & raves) so all I need is my trusty iPhone and I don't have to carry around a journal and pen. The public thing happened by accident. I set the availability to private and somehow it publicized itself. Leading me to believe that there is a ghost in my computer. Or maybe it's an omen or (dare I say it) a user error? (NO!) I'm going ghost. A cute one, like Casper.

I don't like lying but I really am very self conscious about my bloggy (I like using the word blog. Bloggy. Bloggish. Bloggity.) ways. So until he stumbles upon this piece of work and calls me out. I'm a closet blogger.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it!

(I just like saying that)