So this past weekend was shaping up to go down in the history books as la-ame. In fact, it was looking so lame that they wouldn't probably give it a footnote in the history books. So, Saturday night I'm sitting watching Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind wondering if I would look as cute as Kate Winslet if I dyed my hair blue (then realizing it would take a face transplant for me to come anywhere near looking as cute as Kate Winslet) and then crying because I'm going to die alone without even a cat to eat my eyeballs because who doesn't go out on Saturday night?!...when Teeny calls. We chat it up and then she invites me to a Mets game on Sunday. Well sure! Anything to break the suckiness of the weekend-- they serve beer at baseball stadiums, and I had never actually been to a major-league game. Even though it was just supposed to be some sort of scrimmage (what do they call those in baseball?) I was stoked.
Long story short: There was no game. It was just watching the Mets have batting practice. The boys we came with were so embarrassed they just got us real liquored up so we wouldn't be hella pissed when we realized we got dragged to Flushing to watch the 3rd string 2nd baseman hit a ball over the fence and have it not count for anything. Yea, so 4 beers, 3 hours of direct sunlight and a few handfuls of peanuts later, we're feeling awesome.
I get ready to pour my drunk ass on the 7 train and sleep all the way into Manhattan. These boys- Phil and Adam along with their sidekick Teeny have other plans and literally throw me into Adam's 'Lanche (the gayest SUV around) and start driving back to Conneticut and the all-boys prep school that the three of them are employeed by.
That's right everyone. I was imbibed with really expensive baseball stadium Budweiser (and two Bud Lights, because aparently I think water is delicious), kidnapped, and taken across state lines, on a Sunday, at 4 in the afternoon.
We promptly got lost in Queens which of course meant we had to stop for those awesome 24 oz kegs of Heiniken which (fyi: family) we will be serving at my graduation party. Those and Rolling Rock mini-ponies (what can I say?! I'm all about packaging).
Once we got to Conneticut, I aparently (I don't remember much):
-Thought it would be cool to let Phil give me a tattoo, which, 2 days and a lot of scrubbing later, still hasn't come off. So I'm working with a poorly drawn moon and stars on my left fore-arm. I did manage to keep my wits about me enough to NOT let him color in my other tattoo.
-Thought it would be funny to scream really loud about how incapacitated we were as Teeny and I walked across campus with the 14 and 15 year old boys staring at their crew coach and the crazy girl attempt to walk in a straight line.
-I tripped over a lawn chair and fell flat on my face (who keeps a chair right infront of a door?!) while walking in Teeny's door, cutting up my hands, right foot and left leg. Did Christine comfort me as I lay on her floor possibly bleeding internally?! Nope, she definatly went to the bathroom. Thanks Christine.
-Fell again. This time into Christine's vaccuum. Turning it on, and leaving it on because I can't figure out how to turn it off.
-Changed the outgoing message on my voicemail...to something along the lines of "My phone doesn't work! Call me here! [insert Christine trying to say her phone number and laughing so hard you can't understand her]"
-Thought it would be an awesome idea to go swimming in the crew-lake.
-Convinced another co-worker of Christine's that I was a complete stranger that they had picked up at the "game" and brought back.
-At the resturant where we ate I managed to drop every piece of silverware. Twice.
-When the fruity drink Adam had ordered for Phil arrived, I took it upon myself to stick my finger into the whipped cream on top and take a dollop for myself before he had even tasted it.
Once we got home from the resturant I became the most anti-social kidnapping victim ever, making everyone shut up so I could watch my stories. Then I became the obnoxious kidnapping victim announcing to Christine that she would be waking up at 5 to drive me to the Metro North station so I could catch the 5:30 train and be in the city in time for my first class.
I made it. By 8 PM last night I was essentially useless, working on about 3 hours of sleep plus a bit of PTSD from the whole ordeal.
So I got home to my UPS package. And it was just a letter. From the company that makes the drug I'm taking. Talk about an effin' Let.Down.
I also find it humerous that those friends of mine who are privilaged enough to be linked from this blog find it necessary to up the ante with their content, while I'm totally statisfied writing this junk.
My content is always stellar, just so you know.
Okay, my operating-on-almost-no-sleep-because-I-wrote-a-stupid-paper-last-night self has now decided that STELLAR is probably the best word ever and I must now say it to as many co-workers as possible.
Hey, when I move to NYC, can I have your temp job? And your ability to see famous people at random places?
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