Polla Caliente!

I'm currently using the free Internet provided by the Fort Lauderdale airport. I decided to save Ali's mom a trip and just come early with the girls who needed to catch 10am/ 11am flights back from our bachelorette weekend down here. Thank goodness for this service considering the airport is remarkably low on airport shops and restaurants.

So, where to begin on this weekend. I'm very tan, exhausted, and cell phone-less.

I arrived Thursday evening. Ali's flight was delayed out of NYC, so my extreme planning to get in the same time as her fell through and her mom had to make additional trips to and from the airport anyways.

Ali's mom gave us her gorgeous, newly redone, two bedroom/ two bath condo right on the ocean for the weekend (she has homes in Mystic, CT and Holyoke, MA too). Ali's sister lives just down the street in an adorable Spanish-style vista with her son and husband, so her mom was able to stay there for the weekend.

Friday, Ali's other bridesmaid Lisette and I bonded while sitting by the pool before the other girls arrived in the evening. We were all exhausted from long work weeks so we ended up just hitting Winn Dixie for some wine, I cooked us all tacos, and we watched Bridget Jones Diary and caught up.

More laying out all Saturday morning, of course, in preparation for the evening's bachelorette party festivities.

Let's put it this way: Ali's the first of our crazy college "girl group" to have a bachelorette party. AND it is sad for all of us that Ali's no longer single and wild.

Ali's mom and sister came over around 5pm with several bottles of Veuve Cliquot, penis-shaped pasta to cook, penis-covered paper plates, and, of course, a penis-shaped Boston Creme pie. We headed by party bus to the Hard Rock Casino for a drag queen/ half-naked male dancer show at Passions nightclub. The night ended with me losing my cell phone and Lisette passing out at Hooters while the rest of us consumed cheese fries and chicken fingers. From here, I'll just show pictures. You'll get the idea.

So, Krista (Ali's sister) has this adorable blond son named William who loves the ladies. After his bath a while ago, Krista popped on an old Rod Stewart tape. William and she danced around to Hot Legs. He liked the song so much that they started dancing to it after every bath. She plays Baby Einstein videos for him in the morning while she preps his breakfast. One day, she saw a Rod Stewart Live DVD and purchased that for him. He loved it! The only problem, he can't pronounce legs, so he instead requests "Hot Cock!" when he wants to watch the video. We have no idea where he got that from, but, it had to be the theme for the weekend most definitely. Thus, the penis-shaped cake had "Hot Cock" written on it. And, since Ali's a fluent Spanish speaker known for her past attractions to Diego's and Rodriguo's and Fabio's, we wrote "Polla Caliente! de Matthew (her fiance)" on the smaller other cake.

Here we are in Krista's courtyard all decked out and only 3 bottles into the champagne (2 more would follow before we even made it to the bar).

Ali wanted the tequila shot. I never ever do those things. The bartender was super hot and from Wisconsin. I was so drunk I kept asking him over and over again if he really liked cheddar. I remembered this all the next day, obviously.

The drag queen host would yell "Sex," and we'd all have to yell back "Oh Baby!" Clearly there were many bachelorette parties there too. We made a bunch of the brides-to-be pose together at one point for pictures. Lisette and Erica got competitive and announced, "Our bride is soooo much hotter than their's. We win hands-down." Then they realized one of the other bride's friends was next to them. Oops.

Ali swears she's never been on a pole before. We think she's bluffing. A shirt in the souvenir shop last night had a girl on a stripper pole and read "I support single moms." Hot.

The funniest part about the half-naked male dancers was that they were even remotely trying to pass off as straight. Pretty to look at, but, yeah, so fruity they'd fill up a Vegan for a week.

I lost my cell phone shortly afterwards. Blah.

Last night, exhausted, we hit Beach Place for restaurant on the water. Our live entertainment was from Alex Fox. I texted Brando on my cheap substitute phone until my insurance replacement comes in the mail: "Damn, I wish I had a camera phone. Musician at dinner looks like Michael Bolton, is playing the guitar like he's Aerosmith (tossing it in the air and such) to songs that sound like Kenny G." We got the waiter to have him come take a photo with our group. Then we went straight to bed.

I now know how to say three things in Spanish- Where's the bathroom?, I don't speak Spanish., and Hot Cock. Wanna come with me on a trip to Madrid soon?

Sorry-

I've been slacking on my blogging.

Um, where'd I leave off? Date from Hell circa Monday night.

Long story short- okay, it wasn't the worst date I've ever had. But, it was strange. He kept explaining that I had to ask for another date or I had to suggest another drink. And, he was super full of himself to a point where I couldn't deal. Brando ended up getting out of bed in Virginia and coming to pick me up at the Georgetown waterfront. So my date, in a nutshell, was quite the heavylifter (getting me good and drunk for Brando) I guess.

Tuesday night was kickball. We played the best team in the league, Off in Public. We only lost by 3 points, so that was actually pretty impressive. Afterwards, District Belle joined the team at the bar for her first official exposure to kickball. I think she had a decent time. I was so exhausted.

Last night, I went to dinner at Clyde's in Chinatown and then rested up for my trip today. I'm off to Ft. Lauderdale in just a couple hours for Ali's bachelorette weekend. Drag queens, mechanical bulls, tanning, college friends, and hot shorts. Oh my!

I'll be a better blogger soon. I promise.

I Couldn't Hardly Wait

Oh, what a weekend. Just when I thought life was becoming stagnant.

I met Sassy and District Belle at L'Enfant Plaza Hotel after work for some drinks before the Hirshhorn Museum's Afterhours event. I was highly disappointed to find that the Foggy Bottom Brewery in the hotel's lobby (one of the few options down near the Smithsonian to choose from) didn't have happy hour specials. That's got to be price gauging.

But, we found our way through 2 glasses of wine each and headed to the Hirshhorn.

We met up with Vive, Brando, AM, Franky, and others for drinks outside in the courtyard. There we spotted several interesting characters including Matthew Lesko in his infamous question mark suit, a man dressed like the Easter Bunny (see below), and a British guy I met at my cousin's wedding last weekend in NYC.



I, unfortunately, made the poor decision to not monitor my drinking and thus was entirely too drunk to deal with looking at the actual exhibition. I'm told it was entertaining though. After seeing just about everyone I could randomly ever imagine seeing, I decided to call it a night and rest up for Saturday's festivities (aka a gazillion parties).

The drinking kicked off at the Georgetown waterfront. Peter and company were saying goodbye to a friend who was moving to Philly. This involved much alcohol and the thought of food coming up only after the world was blurry. I hitched a ride with his crew to Nolan's for the mid-season kickball party. Open bar from 8pm-11pm, except it was only on rail drinks and beer... which does me zero good.

The Mack picked Brando and I up around 10:30pm and then we grabbed Franky and headed to Brando's friends party out in the Virginia burbs. Okay, not terribley impossible to get to (like right near the East Falls Church metro), but it's a damn good thing the party was fantastic or else the trip would have been a bitchfest for me.

Brando's friends rented this ridiculous house from some Ambassador and the wood-panelled sub zero fridge was really only the beginning. They'd managed to acquire a moon bounce for the evening, and had placed in the front lawn with tiki torches all around. We drank some alcohol punch in excess before taking to the jump. That was silly. Moon bounce + alcohol = sick.

The Mack: "Do you want me to find out what's in the punch?" Me: "Three weeks ago I drank hunch punch out of a trash bag-lined bin. I've lost all rights to ask what's in anything anymore."

We danced entirely too much to my iPod's random assortment of songs. Then, we took crazy funny pictures with the guests (it was a "Make Your Own Theme" party so the costumes were random beyond belief). Finally, we went to sit down outside for a bit and began talking to some Swedish guys.

Me: "So what are you doing in the states?" Swedes: "We just finished a year as Au Pairs. Now we are travelling." Me: "Wait, so you're, like, Mannies?" Swedes: "Huh? What is Manny?" Me: "Oh, male nannies." Swedes: "I don't know that term." The Mack: "I know how to say two things in Swedish- IKEA and meatball." Swedes: "Haha. Meatballs." The Mack: "I don't like that it takes forever to put together IKEA furniture." Franky: "Yeah, it's like squiggle goes with squiggle. What's that about?" Swedes: "You talk to fast. What are you saying?" The Mack: "We think you should make the directions for putting together furniture easier. And meatballs aren't that good either."

Later, Franky commented, "Basically, it's like me meeting someone and them saying, 'Yeah, you're pretty cool, but I had this falafel the other day that sucked. It's your fault entirely.'"

Yesterday I had jury duty and randomly saw pink vest guy. He remembered me, and we spent all day chatting and talking. He's my new BFF.

I have more to write, re: my date auction date that sucked last night, but I'm tired. Sorry kids.

What a Wonderful World

New Year's Eve 2000. I was with Gene, John, Elise, Tom, etc. in Atlanta at the Phillips Arena bouncing around to Widespread Panic in concert. When midnight rolled around, the Dirty Dozen Band walked onto stage and accompanied Widespread in a perfect rendition of "What a Wonderful World."

And you know what having Gene in town has made me think, I definitely don't think to myself often, what a wonderful world.

Last night, we had our final New Member event for JLW at the Women in Military Service for America Memorial at Arlington Cemetery. The light rotunda was much less morbid than I thought it would be initially. I imagined having a celebration at the Holocaust Museum. It just seemed wrong.

Quote of the night: "We've done so many hours of community service. We're like our own army doing good out there, except with hundred of strands of pearls."

After the reception, I met Gene and his coworkers at JPaul's in Georgetown for drinks and headed home.

By the way- this morning:

Me: I need something funny to happen tonight. I'm low on blog material. Where's the drama?
Brando: I create funny situations
Me: Good. I need something.

So yeah, this is lacking, but I'm aware of it. I promise to have more to say after the weekend.

Ciao!

Piece of Clay

Everybody wants somebody to be their own piece of clay. True everybody wants somebody to mold them, shape them own way.

I was not myself when I was with Jerk. I didn't go out every night and enjoy meeting people. I didn't dress funky or spunky or trendy or fun. I cooked dinner about 5 nights a week. I treated myself to fancy cheese not fancy shoes. I didn't go to a single concert.

After we broke up, I said to my mom, "I think Jerk was in love with the idea of what I could be, not me."

My question- Is Marvin Gaye right? Does everyone want someone to be their own piece of clay?

I redressed Jerk. At 26, when I met him, he still wore those Old Navy shirts with the Charlie Brown stripes down the center and light wash GAP tapered jeans. I slowly started to buy him shirts I liked. I settled on a bunch of Polos, mainly, because they were an easy transition being cotton and all. Then, around 6 months, I purchased him his first pair of designer denim. He got cashmere as gifts from me too. And, an outlet trip convinced him to trade in his parka for a pea coat.

When we broke up, I announced to my friend Tait, "Crap! Now I have to redress a whole new guy!" Tait, "Or, ya know, find a guy who can already dress himself."

Yeah, she's right. I'm far too exhausted at this point in my life to want to, as Adelaide sang in Guys and Dolls, "Marry the man today and change his ways tomorrow."

Is it too picky to write someone off because, although you know you like them, you'd want to change them? And, along that line, what flaws are too big to be overlooked?

I always say: "There's always another guy and another party. Never feel the need to compromise yourself." Am I wrong? Clearly, I think I'm right. It is my opinion after all.

But, what is a deal breaker? If you don't like tuna salad, and the guy you date is on a diet that has him eating it twice a day, do you end it? Do you assume it's an omen of much differences?

I'm honestly asking here. I don't know. Should everyone want someone to be their own piece of clay?

Yawn

"I have Social Disease. I have to go out every night. If I stay home one night I start spreading rumors to my dogs." - Andy Warhol

Ah kickball. Not that I have the energy to play. Or the passion to play. Or the interest in playing. I'm way more into the social aspect of kickball. Which is good, considering we're the worst team in the league.

The Mack to Pitch: "We're going for defeated team."

We had a super early game. It started at 6:30pm. We were short guys, but the other team took pity on us. I guess that's one perk to being the worst team. I had to play, or stand their, whichever you prefer.

After the game, we followed our opponents to Mille and Al's for $1 Jello shots. Slowly our team started to drop off. It ended up just being the Mack, myself, and one other teammate. After 2 Jello shots and a drink, we headed up to Adams Mill. Walking outside, I looked at the time- 8pm- and then realized I was already a little drunk. The Mack admitted she was too.

As Swell as Cynthia Rowley's stuff at Target.

Gene met us at Adams Mill. I went to order my Raspberry Stoli and Sprite and the bartender not only knew what I was getting but also treated me to my first drink. Um, I assume I'm the only person drinking a $6.50 drink after kickball. Oh well.

I paid $10 for a superlative for the Mack, KK, and I. "Most Popular." It seemed like a great idea at the time. The money goes to charity, so that's at least a consolation for my egoism.

The Adams Mill bouncer kept driving us all nuts announcing that there were too many people on the porch. It was enough to give a girl anxiety. We'd get up to go inside, and he'd then say, "No no. You can stay." All that moving up and down was not such a good idea drunk.

The night was random with quotes and awkward moments. Enough to make a girl sort through everything the next day.

20oz Mountain Dew is being finished as I type.

Hawkeye

Gene's in town this week for work. I've not seen him since April 2006. It's been too long.

Last night, I met him at the airport, and we went over to the Hill to meet Sassy, Pitch, and District Belle for dinner and drinks at the Hawk and Dove.

It was half-priced burger and chicken sandwich night.

'Twas fun to catch up and recall stories from my youth.

Pitch: "Gene, if you're in town, I'll hook you up on a blind date." Me: "Well who is it?" Pitch: "Just someone. Cute though. You know her." Me: "If you tell me who it is, I could tell you if Gene would like her. I know his type." Gene: "That you do."

Sassy: "Wait, so here's the question, if all of your friends didn't like the guy or girl you were dating, would you still continue to date them?" Me: "Well, I didn't much like this girl Gene dated from my high school a couple years ago." Gene: "Oh yeah! She sucked." Me: "But, then again, if Gene wasn't supposed to date anyone I didn't like in high school, he'd have no one to date. I pretty much only liked Elise and Melissa." Gene: "True true."

Ah, memories.

Bourbon?

It is not a good idea to order drinks from your friends guest bartending. I was effectively buzzed from three sips of the blueberry stoli and sprite the Mack made me. That was my first drink. I have absolutely no idea how many more I consumed. Counting the 4 shots I bought us at 10pm on a Thursday (I have no idea what I’m thinking sometimes), my tab was around $50.

Not that I’m complaining. The night was crazy fun.

I arrived at Bourbon around 7pm for Team Cuttler’s Guest Bartending event. The Mack, Jer, AM, and others were slated to bartend (along with a knowledgeable mixologist). They were donating their tips to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. The Master created tip hats for each bartender with funny pictures of them taped on. Whoever got the most tips won 2 free tickets to the Team Cuttler Oasis Winery Yacht Cruise next Saturday.

The Mack was manning the bar upon my arrival and proceeded to get me good and drunk from one pint glass full of vodka and a splash of sprite. I waited through the next guest bartender set, because I was feeling bad about my acquaintances bartending and me only giving tips to my friends. JM poured me my next cup full of vodka. District Belle and I pulled out the cameras and props for a series of Facebook-worthy photos. MF created the next one I had. She’s created adorable drink specials like the Washingtonienne which had grenadine in it (pop my cherry style).

Afterwards, we probably should have called it a night, but I was drunk and feeling social. So, the Mack, Brando, myself, MF, and others headed over to Mille and Al’s for a couple Jell-O shots (can they please just ban orange and green Jell-O? I mean, who honestly likes those flavors. Blech!). Everyone was heading to Peyote Café but luckily my eyes were starting to shut.

I woke up this morning hungover to pack in a frenzy and head on a train to NYC for my cousin’s wedding. My Mom is so dragging me to the Chanel counter for something to cure these abominable black circles under my eyes… which were of course not caused in the least by the fact that I went to bed at 2:30am.. Not at all.

Mmmm. Now to finish part 2 of my bacon, egg, and cheese.

I'm a bad blogger-

I just don't even know where to begin. Life's a whirlwind of drama, excitement, suspense, etc. etc.

My horoscope from yesterday:

Who cares what other people think? Well, to be honest -- you do. But at times like these, the stars point out that others' opinions don't matter. So acknowledge that you care, and then do what you have to do nonetheless.

The stars aren't blind after all.

Tuesday night was a mess of fun and nonsense. Sum up the night, me to the Mack: "Um, do you think I'm capable of playing anyone? Goodness! I'm too much of a mess to premeditate messing with anyone's emotions. And, I'm a terrible actress."

Yesterday's breakfast and lunch was Red Bull. The 20oz can. Dinner was canned ravioli with a glass of white wine. I went to bed at 2am on Tuesday. Pitch and the Mack were passed out on my pullout couch.

Um yeah.

So, I apologize for not writing yesterday and not being deep and insightful today. I'll leave you with my take on America's Next Top Model. I actually got to watch it last night! I'm for Renee even if she is a bitch and talks funny (dude, where is from?). I think Natasha, the mail order bride, is strange. Renee's quote last night cracked me up: "She's one fry short of a Happy Meal." And, Jaslene looks like she's on crystal meth in person.

Ciao! Tomorrow, I'm off to Manhattan to meet the folks and cousins for my cousin's wedding. Vavoom.

Sign, sealed, delivered. I'm yours.

I believe in fate.

I think that, if you stop believing that everything happens for a reason, you'll have no reason to look beyond the bad.

So, even though sometimes I stop having faith in kismet, I always come back to hoping for a life on some sort of track.

A friend's been dating a 26-year old guy who hasn't had a relationship since high school. 9 years without a girlfriend. She was worried that he only found her, because he was ready for a relationship (ie- red lighted). It was a fleeting worry, to be honest, seeing as I think she realizes he and she are very good together.

But, I got to analyzing the worry. Come on, you know by now, that's what I do best.

Here's the thing- the girl a red lighted guy finds to settle down with has to be red lighted too! Isn't it kismet to find yourself with someone looking for what you're looking for at the very same point in time? I mean, in her case, she was drunk on Christmas Eve and suddenly more confident than ever before. She walked right on up to him and started to chat. For a healthy and successful relationship to develop from that interaction, fate MUST be in the planning.

At dinner last night, I stated: "Can you just take a glimpse at who I have been attracted to these last couple months? Do you think I'm looking for marriage? If I was looking to move to the suburbs and garden on Saturday evening, I'd be attracted to a different type of guy! And, if you were looking to walk down an aisle tomorrow, you too would be actively finding someone else. You and he were both looking to be in a monogamous relationship with a potential future but no current rush. You found each other at the same point in time you were looking for the same thing. That, dear, is fate."

Don't you think?

"Listening to my iPod is like reading my journal." And, other observations from the weekend.

JB on the metro heading back to Adams Morgan Saturday night: "I'm sorry, I wasn't listening to what you said. I still can't get over Jenny licking the polar bear's butt."

Me to AL at Chipotle Friday night: "Okay, I'm showing cleavage and not wearing a bra. If we go to Porter's and dance, you're totally on nipple patrol."

Ralph sending an email to my friends and father about the song he recorded for me to use on Ali's bachelorette video: "Ali wants a guy to call her own! Yeah, bitches."

So, let me begin.

I woke up with a headache Friday morning that didn't seem to want to go away. KK had free tickets to the Cinco de Midtown bar crawl which began at 5pm. I decided to suck it up and go meet the Mack and company for $3 margaritas at Rumor's. We drank there and bumped into a nice random assortment of people including the ex-question mark Jackass, who I ignored completely. At about 10:30pm, I was planning to meet the Lost Boys at Froggy Bottom, but called it a night and came home. A wise decision considering I was set to meet CE in Virginia at 11:15am for an apartment crawl.

CE's roommate's boyfriend had organized the 1st Annual Orange You Drunk Yet? Ballston-Rosslyn apartment crawl for their friends on Saturday. Each apartment had the alcohol, beer, and food of a country. We walked from apartment to apartment beginning in Ballston and making our way back up the orange line, basically. I stopped after Ireland and headed home. It was cold, and I had much more drinking to do.

At 6:30pm, I met Sassy and Jenny at Grand Central in Adams Morgan for bloody mary's. The game plan for the evening was to go wherever the night took us. JB called around 7pm and wanted to do "something Cinco de Mayo-ish." They chose Tortilla Coast in Southeast. So, we cabbed it to them and proceeded to drink $3.50 frozen margaritas until we were taking silly pictures and ready to dance.

Of course, the thing about JB and company is they bring out the worst in me. These boys are infectious (Not sure what other word to use to describe them). They're silly and wild and slightly homoerotic... no, really, like I have pictures of them feeding each other.

JB stole my iPod, and we each put in a headphone and danced on the metro. It was freaky, like, goth-kids-were-whispering-about-us-being-freaks freaky.

Having someone listen to your iPod is comparable to having someone read your journal. When JB burst out singing Spice Girls, I about hid behind a tree.

Jenny, "the fact that he's enjoying your crazy music mix so much is like having someone jerk off on the pages of your diary."

Pretty much.

We metroed back to Adams Morgan to meet the Lost Boys at Dan's Cafe. Somehow or another, we ended up at Bourbon. I got bored, and, at about 2am, I finally found my way into bed.

Now the week has begun. Yawn.

Jazz on Jackson Place Returns

Last night, we returned to Jazz on Jackson Place at the Decatur House. After several too many glasses of wine and tons of friends, I headed to Front Page with the Pitcher or Pitch (My stories about him are too bizarre. He needs a name). Email to our mutual friend when I got home last night should say it all...

Um, for the record, tonight was bizarre. I meet some guy at Front Page after I ditch everyone to go to front page (well, b/c Pitch was less weird, long story). There, I start talking to a Southern Canadian (like myself, so odd), and I give him my number [Pitch was talking to other people, by the way] Then Pitch invites him to Fado... um, so, along comes this guy with us.

On route to Fado, we have to stop by California Pizza Kitchen so Pitch can say hi to a bunch of nurses he knows. I have to use the restroom. CPK is closed and the doors are locked, but the two of us convince the guy cleaning to let us in. The Southern Canadian is sitting in Pitch's car with the hazzards on. Then, we get back in the car to go to Fado to meet some other people. I start to text you. He says, "who are you texting" and peaks over and calls you... at which point, I go into a monalogue about liking you and not saying anything to play the two of you against each other and blah blah blah... which apparently you heard.

We get to Fado with this guy I picked up at Front Page who I don't want to go home with that night, thus why I gave him number(I might add) and I dance all night with Pitch's friend Stephanie who I met after A Night of Mystique when Pitch was administering a breatharlizer on her. He just keeps one in his car for no reason. Oh, and she tells me last night that it's an honor we got to blow on it. Hmmm. Then he invites, I guess, the girl he's interested in to the bar and Stephanie and her friend start discussing whether the girl "of the week" is cute or not. This is the point I leave and book it to a cab.

So yeah, that was the night. Comments=)

On gchat with that friend today:

Sam: late nights out with Pitch are strange. I always wake up thinking "What happened last night? Why do I feel like I'm living in My So Called Life?"

#1 There's always 20 girls around who are his "best friends," but they want him
and ask you like 30 times who you are and how you know him
#2 He spends the night texting anything you say out of context to mutual people you know in common
#3 It's funny while it's happening, but the next day it's sort of like sleeping with someone with crabs... like, was it really worth it.

Poor Taste

Um, how come I'm the only one who thinks this is in poor taste? It's enough to make a girl buy Emily Post books for everyone.

My ex is dating my close friend's roommate, as you know. My close friend and I are co-organizing a group to go to Jazz on Jackson tonight. I've been avoiding her roommate like a clogged artery avoids steak. This is mainly because I know my own limits. I am not cool with hanging out with this person. It's nothing against her. I just hate being reminded of APK. Simple.

Does anyone else think it's in poor taste for her to be coming tonight? To an event I'm co-organizing? I mean, who wants to be in a situation where someone is clearly going to ignore you and avoid you?

Poor taste.

Team Cuttler Guys Don't Stop After One Position

We made signs last night to haze Girls on Top, especially their pitcher and our friend.
Signs included: "Cuttler Girls like their Guys on Top." "[The pitcher] knows much about striking out!", "[The pitcher] says: now that she's on top, I should learn to pitch!" and many more.

As I was getting up to kick, I looked at the Mack and the Master, "so you realize I'm like a guaranteed out, right?" My pitcher friend pitched me a really easy pitch, which I proceeded to kick not so well directly to my other friend on third base who has a sore arm and tossed it to first to get me out. Yeah. I suck at kickball. At least I show leg.

I went to Arlington to buy us all soccer socks on Monday evening. I was wearing short soffee shorts for the first time since college, and the socks made me look like I was channeling Suzanne Somers in Three's Company. In our newly purchased soccer socks (white with blue stripes), we figured, if we can't win, let's be obnoxious.

As far as being obnoxious, there wasn't much we could do to annoy Girls on Top. Reportedly, last week, some guy on E=MC Hammered (the orange team) called a girl on their team an ugly ho.

At Adams Mill after the game, the Mack took defending the girl into her own hands (we were told to hate that team). In her own words- "I punched some guy on the orange team in the stomach hard. 4 oranges were in a circle talking to KK. I walked up, and one dude goes to me, out of the blue, 'what sign are you.' I walk up to him and go 'Sagittarius. I'm also a\nred-head.' Then I punched him. 'We are feisty.' And then I walked away. The rest of the night all the guys in orange shirts were holding their balls when I walked by. "

We didn't have enough teammates to handle an official match of flip cup, and I was seriously against the idea of playing. Unsanitary and I don't drink beer. Good reasons, no? We drank entirely too much, and I walked to the metro with my friend from GOT.

In other news, some quotes from the night enjoyed.

HK, looking at the orange and brown teams playing on the field across from ours: "It looks like shit is playing on that side."

The Master putting me in left field: "I'm putting NC there too. Not that I don't think you'll catch the ball. But, just so that, ya know, he can catch the ball."

I don't believe in all being fair in love and war.

And, nothing anyone could say could convince me otherwise. So, your Great Grandma was saved by someone when she was 12 and almost drowned. They fell in love until he was sent off to war at 18. While he was away, she met someone else, and they married. When her great love returned from war, it turned out he was cousins with the man she married. She had to ditch the guy and be with her great love, right?

No. I don't believe she did.

In my opinion, people who believe that all is fair in love and war will end up alone and miserable. It means you're willing to screw over people to get what you think you deserve. Perhaps the fact that she still loved this man was a sign that she shouldn't be married to him or his cousin. The end. Move on Granny!

Furthermore, I do believe believing in fate and friendship requires us to write certain romantic interests off. If you're meant to be, you will be. Not that people are off limits just because they dated someone you are friends with (though, clearly, some people are. If my best friend started dating Jerk, I'd burn down something for sure). You just have to make sure they're 100% okay with it. The end. But, friendship is a reason to write someone off in my opinion. That's what friendship is- support, integrity, compassion.

Okay, that's my piece for today. I has some help elaborating on this point last night. Felt like sharing.