We did it again.
Beerfest.
Our story begins on a Thursday, once again. Laurel, Scott and I flew into Denver late at night, to meet up with Susan who had already picked up Chris and Peter earlier that day. We had one addition to the crew this year, Susan's boyfriend, Luke.
We got in pretty late on Thursday and again, went to sleep pretty soon after that.
Friday morning we awoke to Susan explaining to us that we were going to go actually SEE Colorado because she didn't want us all to think Colorado was "only strippers and booze." (GAAAY RIGHT?)
Anyway.
We headed up to....some place with rocks and scenery.
Fortunately, I was super ready for any type of hiking because we had planned on this so I brought the proper attire.
Wrong.
Nope.
We did not plan on this.
I was dressed in black from head to toe and boots with heels, per usual.
So, I just climbed that shit in heels, cause I'm fucking awesome.
(Whooooa she's so cooooool I knooow right it's crazyyy)
So we were all climbing the rocks. Susan had my camera and right after she took the picture above she yelled, "show me your tits!"
Being the weirdo I am, I obliged....sort of.
BUT CAN WE ALL PLEASE JUST TAKE A MINUTE TO LOOK AT THAT CREEPER IN THE BACKGROUND?!?! I mean REALLY?! You're not even gonna TRY to be sneaky about it dude?!!
If you can blow up that picture at all, do so. His face is pretty priceless.
Oh yeah and Chris ate shit...all...the way....into....the stream. Head under and everything.
And after that we headed to our first brewery of the trip, Oskar Blues.
Let's just say it took me about 20 minutes and 1.5 beers to get to this point:
It was around this time that we decided to start a band called "Sexual Pictures," so you can probably imagine the conversations and shenanigans that stemmed from this.
SOOOO
Saturday finally arrived and we all headed down to the convention center.
This year we had some friends make and bring us some even cooler pretzel necklaces:
You can't really tell, but the 4 soft pretzels in the middle actually spell out "beer."
Although we all vowed to try and take it easy this year because we knew we had plenty of time to drink beer, we were again pretty smashed by the end of hour 2 (of 4).
Oh yeah that green headband is some of the sweet swag I got.
Right around this time I thought it would be a really GREAT idea to start getting temporary tattoos from EVERY booth that offered them.
Why we didn't learn from last year? I have no idea.
But it was my mission to get an entire sleeve of tattoos by the end of the night.
...Aaaaand I did.
Aaaaaand had one put on my boob too cause we ran out of room.
Which reminds me:
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Dear Morgan from 2012:
Hey, what's up. It's yourself from 2011. How's it going? Oh yeah? Sweet. Yeah, I know, The Office was wayyyy better with Michael Scott.
I digress:
Look. I know you think it's a great idea to get temporary tattoos put on all over your body. BUT IT'S NOT. I know I know I know, but it seems so right, and you're super drunk and not thinking...
PLEASE TRUST ME. Going to breakfast on the verge of death tomorrow with tattoos that look like shit all over your body that you cannot get off, really, really sucks.
You're welcome,
Morgan from 2011
P.S. Say hi to the cats for me
P.P.S. Also, are we married yet? I mean come on, what are you like, 50 now?!
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Beerfest eventually ended and we were all swimming in alcohol.
What next?
After getting kicked out of a restaurant because we were all way too belligerent and I was perverting their statues,
That's right: rickshaws to the strip club.
I'm going to fast forward this a bit, if any of you know me in real life you know I did some pretty crazy things there that night (oops) and NO I DID NOT STRIP.
Eventually, everyone left but Peter and I, once again, and we were left to fend for ourselves for the rest of the night.
After the strip club, we decided to go back to the hotel and crash.
....Until we heard the music at least.
After some brief spelunking, we sniffed out the bar that the music was coming from, and apparently proceeded to crash a wedding reception.
Oh yes.
Drunk as shit, we danced and sang on the dance floor to "Living on a Prayer" and such for quite a while.
I'm sure the bride wasn't too happy, but in all honesty I don't even remember seeing other people there, and I DEFINITELY don't remember caring.
Similar to last year, this is where I stop remembering things.
I woke up still drunk, or at least somewhere between drunk and hungover.
Apparently here is what happened at the bar:
Peter: You wanna get a drink?
Me: LET'S DO A SHOT!
Peter: Of what?
ME: I DON'T CARE!
....which apparently meant whiskey.
"You're full of shit, we did not drink whiskey last night."
"Um...yeah, we did."
And then I found this on my camera:
FUCK.
It was true.
I shot whiskey after drinking copious amounts of alcohol for the previous 8 hours.
This was the final picture taken of the trip, that pretty much says it all:
I don't know why my thumb is up, it should be down my throat trying to throw up all the alcohol my body was about to attempt to digest.
So after this, I guess we stumbled back to the hotel and fell down every few feet.
Sooo...you're probably going to have some pretty gnarly bruises, I ran you into things and fell on you pretty hard a few times," Peter said.
Don't remember.
But yes, I do have some pretty ridiculous bruises.
If any of you read my Beerfest post from last year, you know I had a few issues finding my pants to sleep in.
THAT IS THE ONE THING I DID RIGHT THIS YEAR.
Before we went out, I laid out my pajamas on my pillow so I would have NO PROBLEM finding them and getting into them.
Well, the first part of that sentence was true.
I guess I pretty much face planted into the bed. Peter decided to help me out by CARRYING ME INTO THE BATHROOM because I couldn't walk.
He brought my pajamas.
"Are you ok??" he asked.
"I'M FINE!" I promised as I attempted to change.
"Ok, I'm gonna be right outside if you need me."
::::rustling noises inside the bathroom:::::::
"You sure you're ok in there??" Peter asked from the other side of the door.
"Yeah.." I said.
:::::more noises:::::::::
"Are you sure you don't need help or anything?"
"NO I'M OK!" I yelled back.
:::::silence::::::
::::::THUMP::::::
"OK THAT'S IT I'M COMING IN!"
Peter walked in to find me laughing on the ground, shirt successfully on, not so much on the pants though.
He helped me into my pants and then put me to bed.
THANK GOD for good friends, right?
Like I said, I woke up the next morning still silly and drunk, but that eventually faded into what I have been referring to as "The Great Hangover of 2011."
We planned a later flight this year, but I was still sick until the very MINUTE we got to the airport.
2 years in a row and no one puked.
How, you ask? No idea.
There's always next year.
