Oh my goodness, Mr. Barista had the funniest thing ever happen to him on Friday! He was at a meeting at _________, a well-known fundraiser that supports ___________ . The ___________ fundraiser has a gala each __________ that’s really fun. Even though I usually come home with dry cleaning bills from spilling wine on ________ gowns it’s worth the price of admission. It makes us feel so good, knowing we are supporting local _______. Tickets usually sell for _____ in case you were wondering.
So anyways, he’s walking up the ________ when he sees a small ______. He calls to the ______ but gets no answer. When he’s right on top of the ________ he realizes it’s _________!!!!!!!!!!!!! How freaking crazy is that?????
Other awesome things going on today include my _______ having a ________. I hope it’s a _______.
Generally I am granted at least a half hour of solitude before T Saur’s stank ass struts in, but today he decided to get to work an hour early because he took the day off on Friday. I know, right?! That was the first day he’s taken off in his two years here at Steal Your Soul, Inc. I’m sure you’re wondering what the special occasion was, and I’ll tell you. He decided he was going to run the Mud Run on Friday. Ah, what’s that? Oh, the race didn’t start until 6 o’clock? And, do wha? We work less than a mile away from Belle Isle, the location of said race? Why yes, you would be correct on both parts, but never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I did my Kool-Aid dance straight away upon hearing the good news. T said he, “needed to prepare for the run” on Friday and wouldn’t be coming in. I’m not sure what types of “preparations” are required to run 3 miles, but whatever.
Fast forward to Monday morning. Early Monday morning. Like so early I had yet to even get a cup of coffee early before he assaults me and forces me to listen to how the race went. “Well, it didn’t go so good” [sic]. Not knowing what the hell he was talking about because I’m busy thinking about badminton (!!), I asked him to elaborate WTF he was talking about. “My race. I just wanted to get it out there because I knew you would ask how it went.” Thinking to myself that there could be nothing farther from the truth I simply nod. “So I get there at four, right? (HA!) and I’m thinking I could just walk up and let them know I was going to be running, but then they told me it was sold out. So I didn’t run it.” Unable to control myself I asked him why in the world he thought he could just “walk up” and say he was running without registering prior to the event and was he a bit touched in the head, bless his heart? He replied that he had no idea he had to register prior and was confused by the “devices people had on their shoes”. I explained that those “devices” are used to track your time, and yes, you need to register in advance for these types of events. He then said he waited around for every single runner to run the race hoping they would let him run at the last minute. (OMG. Dying!) I then explained that this isn’t like being on standby at the airport. Either you register for the event, or you don’t, and you missed it so you’re SOL. He then told me that he thinks he really should have known about registering and feels stupid. (I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried!)
You guys, he is so stupid I don’t even know if I can make fun of him anymore. As we speak he is furiously attempting to locate and then register for a 5K race, so runners of RVA beware!
Let’s have real talk. It’s been a minute. The problem with having a less than anonymous blog is that you can’t really say what you want. In the beginning of the CD, we were much more upfront with our shitalkery and badassery. Now, a year later, we can’t say what’s on our minds in fear of making someone angry, upset, jealous, incontinent, impotent or unable to do their Kool-Aid dance on the corner of Monument and Nansemond. There have been so many shenanigans that we haven’t spoken on. And that sucks. A lot. I can’t speak for B, but from now on, I am making the solemn vow to get back to good and say exactly what’s on my mind. I now no longer care if you think I go out too much, if I’m being a bitch, if I’m hooking up with this person or that person because frankly, if you don’t like it, don’t read it. I’m going to be a truth terrorist up in this bitch. Don’t piss me off at da club, because I’ll be sure to blog about it straight away. Cheers!
Strawberry Hill is this Saturday and white people from across the region flock to Colonial Downs to binge drink under the guise of a horse race. It’s really great fun. You will see all types of white people there from the bluest of the blue blood rich white person to the biggest East End Redneck drinking beer out of a hat with no shirt on white person. You’ll even spot a fledging hipster or two, there solely for the irony of course. As such, a gentlelady such as myself must be sufficiently prepared ahead of time to deal with the ridiculousness of this event. For the fellas, I recommend checking out Jack’s advice here. For those with a v instead of a p, behold my top five tips to make it through Strawberry Hill in one piece!
1-Dress to Impress! It’s time to break out your spring fineries. Don’t dress to the lame ass theme, because that’s retarded. Show off your assets. If you can’t hookup at Strawberry Hill, then you might as well give up on a life. It’s one giant orgy. Also, for the sake of everyone else’s sanity, wear comfortable, yet sassy shoes. Hard to pull off I know, but no one wants to hear you bitch and complain about how much your feet hurt all god damn day.
2-Wear sunscreen! There’s nary a shady area there and you’ll burn to a crisp by one in the afternoon if you don’t have the forethought to lather up properly before leaving your crib. As sexy as raccoon eyes and skin cancer look on TV, put on some gd sunscreen. You’re white! Hello!
3-Pace yourself! Unless you want to be carted off by EMTs at noon (seen this) or end up left behind because you wandered away from your group (also seen this) keep your SHOTS, SHOTS, SHOTS, SHOTS, SHOTS to a minimum. Don’t drink too slowly, however, as you will become sleepy and lame. It’s important to find the right balance between slowing your roll and having another red bull and vodka.
4-Charge your Billy Mays! Shenanigans and antics will occur as the afternoon progresses. People from your group will roam and wander away and you may find yourself halfway across the track and unable to remember your plot number (been there). Communication via cell phone or carrier pigeon is a necessity lest you be left in New Kent and forced to catch a ride back to the city with a bunch of randoms in the back of their van (hi, I’m a pro. Of course I’ve seen this).
5-Put your “strolling” cocktails in a container with a lid. Think sippy cups for adults. Do you want to spill a freshly made Bloody Marry down your sundress before you’ve even made it around the first turn? (again, I’ve been there) Do you want to trip and fall and have your brewskie go flying all over the back of your bestie’s dress? (of course I’ve done this!) No, you don’t.
Remember you’re going to be hammertimed, so do your best to plan ahead of time to prevent rookie mistakes. Follow my sage advice and you’ll be making out in front a group of strangers in no time. Money back, guaranteed!
1. Sit next to your bestie/work BFF/mortal enemy. When asked to share copies of the meeting agenda or presentation, pull your chair uncomfortably close to the other person. Drape an arm around the back of the other person’s chair. Your bestie will laugh, your work BFF will blush and your mortal enemy will disrupt the entire meeting by shoving you.
2. Ask intelligent questions. Then write down whatever is in your head. I like to jot down congratulatory notes to myself for holding in a fart for three hours. You will appear to be engaged and organized.
3. Keep tally of the number of times the visiting vendor hugs and kisses the cheek of a naive coworker.
4. If you’re fortunate enough to be in a meeting with TLW, keep tally of the number of times you see her dying to yell “That’s what she said!” whenever someone mentions further penetration.
5. Invent acronyms and comment on them. Try not to laugh as people nod in agreement that we need to get our ATN up to par with other books of business. No one wants to be the first to admit to having no clue what is being discussed. This is also a great way to confirm that no one pays any attention during boring meetings. Feel free to carry on drawing amoebas and trying to list all the state Capitols.
Barista and I have a weekly ritual. It involves 2-3 bottles of wine, a bunch of cigs and sitting outside having real talk. Sometimes we talk about all of you, The Cooch, or unicorns but our favorite topic is us. Naturally. So last night we’re two bottles deep and god knows how many curse words and bitch sessions in when I glance over at poor Billy Mays. For you no account fools that remember from yesterday, Billy has a sick. He leapt from my grasp during an all-day drinking session on Saturday and cracked his screen. Side note: I can’t help but think of that god awful “memoir” A Million Little Pieces every time I look at him. I hated that fucking book. But I digress. Let’s get back to Billy. As I looked at him sitting there broken and disheveled on B’s patio table I exclaimed, “Oh my god, I am Billy Mays!” “Sham Wow?” she asked. “No! Slap Chop! Listen! I’m making a metaphor up in this bitch!” I then explained that, like my Beloved, I am also cracked and broken and now encased in a hard impenetrable shell. “Get it?” I asked. B quickly countered that I’m actually more like this guy, to which I must admit, she makes a valid point. Johnny 5 alive! Jesus. No wonder I’m still single. If I were a guy I wouldn’t date me if my life depended on it. Later bitches. I’ll be at da club being all emotionally unavailable and shit.
I’ve had better weekends. The time I accidentally visited Guantanamo Bay and got water boarded for 48 hours straight comes to mind. That was slightly better. Check it:
1-Mercury is retrograde like whoa. For those of you who do not follow the ways of the Universe this means one thing and one thing only: shit’s fucked up. Mercury acts the most bananas in the beginning and end and it happens to end tomorrow. (Thank you!) As such, that wacky planet wreaked havoc over my life last weekend. GO DIRECT ALREADY! JESUS!
2-Broken Things. Over the course of two days the following things I love broke: the speakers to my iPod, Billy Mays and my coffee pot. All three things play an integral role in me not sticking my head in an oven and calling it a day, so yeah, I’m pretty pissed.
3-Billy Mays’ cover smashing into a million little pieces is a big enough deal to get his own mention. Not long ago I was out and a guy commented that I was insane to not have a cover on Billy. He had dropped his Billy and cracked the screen like crazy. I told him I was free ballin’ and don’t worry about what I’m doing, live your own life. Well as luck would have it on Saturday I find myself standing outside of 7-11 waiting for a friend when I inexplicably and suddenly lose the ability to hold on to Billy and he falls to the concrete, smashing himself. I can’t talk about it anymore right now. Moving on.
4-Mother’s Day. I don’t like most holidays. I particularly don’t care for holidays that I think are completely arbitrary and an excuse from Hallmark to drum up business such as Valentine’s Day, Christmas and Easter (ha!), Mother’s Day and Father’s Day.
5-Starting tomorrow I have meetings all day Tuesday and Wednesday. I have a visceral reaction to meetings, particularly meetings I couldn’t give a crap about. I predict that by 11:30 tomorrow morning I will have wild eyes and be on the brink of losing it completely. I EVEN HAVE TO EAT LUNCH WITH THEM. Ah! Let me be! I hate having to spend time with people I can’t stand and making awkward chit-chat about the weather. Shoot me.