Beerfest

This is my follow up story to Drink Boulder 2010.

This.  Is Beerfest.

Last September my friends and I began what will undoubtedly be a continued tradition. 

Every fall, Colorado hosts the Great American Beerfest.  We all got the idea to make it an event in January of 2010 when we went to visit my friend Susan for the first time.  She told us we had to come out for Beerfest that fall, and since we all had so much fun getting drunk that weekend, we obliged.

Along the way, we picked up a few more friends who were along for the ride.  It was me, Susan, Laurel, Laurel's boyfriend Scott, and our other friends from high school Peter and Chris.

The journey began on a Thursday.

We flew out and Susan met us at the airport late that night.  We went home only to fall asleep that night.

This trip was different. 

This trip was innately devoted to alcohol, so when we woke up, no one felt guilty that we decided to start our day by hitting our first brewery...at 11 AM.

Beerfest wasn't until Saturday and we wanted to get a head start on the debauchery.

Again, being the lightweight that I am, I was drunk almost immediately.  We toured craft breweries for the better part of the day, drinking and doing stupid things like climbing hay mountains that we found on the side of the road.

There is one important piece of the story I should add before I continue.

Before I left for my trip, my boyfriend and I were hanging out. 

We had about 3 hours to kill before he had to take me to the airport.  "We should rent a romantic movie," he said. "Like The Human Centipede."

"The Human Centipede?"  I asked.  "What's that?"  (<---big mistake)

"....You don't...know...what The Human Centipede is??"  He excitedly asked.  When I confirmed I did not, he briefly explained the plot.

If you still don't know what it is, here is a summary.

...Yeah.

I immediately grabbed my computer and googled the trailer.  How did I not know about this??? 

I became obsessed with everything about the movie, except actually watching it.  I was still trying to decide if I could handle watching a crazy scientist stitch 3 humans together, ass to mouth so they shared a digestive tract.  

Of course I brought it up immediately to my friends.

I couldn't believe my luck, because none of them had seen or heard about it either.  So I got to explain it to them.

And then we were all obsessed.  The amount we talked about just the idea of this movie was insane.  I am not exaggerating when I say we spent hours talking about it.

The evening turned into a continual rant of logistics. 

"So, what if we sewed A to C???"

"What happens if one of them throws up?  Where does it go???"

"Couldn't they develop some kind of system when they use their tongues to let the others know they're about to take a crap???"

It was a long night.

Then Beerfest day arrived. 

But the Human Centipede conversation held strong.

(I eventually watched the movie, but we had discussed it so much and gone over every little detail that I pretty much knew everything about it and was bored to tears.  I ended up fast forwarding through most of it).

Moving on.

We headed down to the convention center. 

...An entire convention center dedicated to beer and drunk people.  There were so many people.  And so many beer stations.

They handed us this tiny little cup and explained that we get as many 1 ounce pours as we could drink.

"One ounce???"  We all thought.  "We only have 4 hours, how can we possible get drunk off of one ounce pours in 4 hours???"

<----Little cup

To move the story along, by the end of hour 2 we were all annihilated.  The question then became, "How do we keep this up for 2 more hours???"

But we did.  It was awesome. 

We took Shot Skis:

<---Cool pretzel necklaces that are a must

And at some point, this seemed like a good idea:

....

Yeah.  Temporary tattoos.  And mouth vaginas.  Laurel had to go to a wedding the next day.  She obviously did not think the fake-tattoo-on-her-boob thing through.

Any time someone dropped their little plastic cup, the whole convention center erupted into one giant,

"OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

<----Us doing that to other people

Which basically meant party foul. 

I held onto that thing for dear life. 

Unfortunately Laurel dropped hers...at the very end of the night.  8:(

<----("OOOHHH")



The session eventually ended. 

As soon as it did all 30,000+ people burst out into applause.  The applause did not stop the entire time we were in the convention center/leaving.

After 5 minutes of listening to the shouting and watching the sea of people pour down the stairs clapping and shouting with drunken happiness, I finally (I was drunk or I would have done it much sooner) snapped a quick video of it which I will add here later.  Until then this link might work:  I don't know if this will work.

Annnnyway.

The night was far from over.  But we're just about at the part where I stop remembering what happened.

Peter and I apparently decided to hop on a rickshaw (there were rickshaws??).  I think we were ready to crash.  But just as we started to move, our friends flagged us down and told us we were all going to a strip club instead.

....Apparently that's what we do in Colorado.  Drink, and go to strip clubs.

Though this time we stayed at the club for a few hours.

Lots of money was spent.  Lot's of boobs were seen.  Scott got his camera taken away by security after he tried to take a picture of one of the dancers.  It was a good night. 

And then we left.

And here's where it gets really hazy...

For some reason (I am guessing I was borderline too intoxicated to walk efficiently) Peter was carrying me on his back.  And somehow we got separated from the rest of the group, which I didn't know until the following morning.

We stumbled around looking for our hotel, and ended up in the wrong one.  Whatever hotel we stayed at had 2 different sections to it and was pretty confusing even when we were sober, so you can imagine how difficult it would be to navigate while drunk.

Which reminds me.

-----------------------------------------------------

Dear Hotel Builders/People:

If you are going to build or have a hotel right next to a Beer Festival, maybe make your hotel a little less fucking confusing.  Because you are about to have 30,000 stumbling idiots calling you because they can't find their rooms and are probably in the wrong damn building of your hotel.

-----------------------------------------------------

In any event, we made it.  Peter flopped me down on the bed and went in the other room and that's all I remember.

So when I woke up the next morning - head throbbing/on the verge of death - and Peter came into our room with coffee and asked me, "did you find your pants?"  You can probably guess why I was confused and alarmed.

"I'm sorry, what??  And also,  shhhhh not so loud...ugh."

"You don't remember?"  He asked.

Oh God oh God what did I do...

He laughed:  "Yeah well in the middle of the night I opened my eyes and you were standing over me saying, 'Peter....Peter...I need pants...Peter....I need pants!'  And I looked down and you were not wearing pants."

I smacked my hand to my head in embarrassment and looked under the covers.

I definitely wasn't wearing pants.

...Don't worry I was wearing other clothes.  But still.

"You just were so sad that you couldn't find your pants...so I helped you look through your suitcase, but I couldn't find them either so I gave up."

I looked around the room. 

Pieces of my outfit were flung everywhere.  My pants were draped over the desk.  My jacket was hanging over the lamp.  My bra and shirt were both folded nicely in my suitcase...which was weird.  Somehow in my drunken state I managed to get my sleep tee shirt on.

...And then someone discovered the wet spot in the corner.

To this day I will swear that it was not me, that peed in the corner.  But unfortunately, no one knows what happened that night.  I don't remember a thing past the walk back to the hotel.  And everyone else was just as drunk as I was.

So my friends think I peed on the floor.  I don't, because I'm OCD with being neat and clean, so even in my drunken state I don't believe I would have done it.  But I cannot prove either side.  I can neither confirm nor deny.  Except that I will continue to deny until the day I die because I DIDN'T PEE ON THE FLOOR. 

I know I said Boulder 2010 was my worst hangover, but that was only because I had not yet experienced Beerfest.

Oh.

My.

God.

That was THE worst flight I've ever been on.  I've never been so sick.  I don't know how I didn't throw up.  I don't know how none of us threw up for that matter.

Note to self/friends for next year:  Do NOT schedule return flight for the first thing the morning AFTER Beerfest. 

To wrap things up, Beerfest this year is the last weekend in September.  And I will be there. 

So who's in???  Let's do this.

I did not pee.  Also.

Top 5 Things A Man Should Never Say To A Woman

These don't have to be things said in a relationship.  It can be any type of relationship:  Coworker, boyfriend, friend, etc.  The point is, there are just certain things you don't say to a girl.  Because I said so.

5.  "Sex and the City is stupid."  (Idea by Nick Parsons)

FUCK. 

YOU. 

Sex and the City is awesome.  And you're stupid.

4. "You look tired..."  (Idea by Lindsay Montefu)

You know what?  You look like an asshole.  I'm tired because I spend my days dealing with your bullshit.  And looking pretty.  And being awesome.  And you look tired because you spend all your time masturbating.  And being an asshole.

3.  "I'm a better driver than you."

Maybe if you got off your high horse and didn't back seat drive, it wouldn't be an issue.  First of all, you are not God's gift to driving.  You make mistakes too.  We're just nice enough to pretend we don't notice.

Return the favor. 

You know what, I'm not even going to do a 'second of all.'  Just re-read the 'first of all.'

I actually prefer to be driven around rather than to drive, but that being said I am a damn fine driver if I do say so myself.  (Never mind the car I totaled in 2006.)  Besides, men statistically get more speeding tickets than women (yes, I even did the research) AND at least women are smart enough to be able to talk our way out of them.  So there.

2.  "Will you be my girlfriend???  Ok...now you ask me."

Enough said.  Read my Creep Five entry.

And finally, what prompted me to write this blog:

***1. "Is it because you're on your period?"***

Listen assholes.  You have NO idea what "being on your period" is like. 

Having a period is probably the WORST thing in the world.  Except for sharks. 

IT IS MISERABLE.  Not only do we get to deal with bleeding from our genitals for 4-7 days, but it totally mind-fucks us as well.

Everything makes us cry.

Everything is shitty.

Everything is the end of the world.

Please note:  This is not something we actively choose to participate in.  No one wants to be crazy for a week out of every month. 

***EVERY MONTH!*** That means we spend approximately 3 months a year bleeding and having meltdowns over which color nail polish we want to wear that day or wondering why no guy will ever amount to the guy from the Notebook.

The truth is, we don't even know we're being crazy most of the time.  It just happens.  And then every once in a while we'll catch a glimpse of reality and realize, "Ohhh...I guess crying because Starbucks is out of Chai for the day is a little crazy..."  And "I'm sorry I tried to break up with you because you asked if my shirt was new when I actually had worn it on our first date."

It's miserable.  We feel fat, ugly, emotional and irritated.  Not to mention the debilitating cramps that force us into fetal position for hours on end. 

So guys, shut up.  You don't get to ask us if anything is "because you're on your period."  Ever.  I feel like comments like this should be considered the equivalent of a racial slur...I guess a gender slur?  Let's start that up. 

Yeah.

And when you bleed from the tip of your penis for 4-7 days, have to deal with mind numbing cramps, and turn into an emotional zombie, THEN you can ask us if we're upset because "we're on our periods."  Until then, you can all eat shit.

(No, I'm not on my period.)

*Oh and thanks to everyone for your ideas...that was fun*

The Stupidest Commercial I Have Seen In A Long Time

First, take a minute and watch this.  I'm sure many of you have already seen it.

STUPID.

Now let's reflect on the many layers of stupid.

Picture this:

You just had a great night out.  You're with your spouse/significant other/family, possibly partying like rock stars (or like loris...es?  Lori?  What's the plural of a loris?) and enjoying the evening.  You come home, ready to go to bed/get freaky/watch America's Next Top Model/whatever.  You open the door...

...And all your shit is gone.

Now I don't know about you, but the furthest thing from the reaction that I would have is what this guy does.

"Ah...we got robbed." 

That's it. 

Not, "WE GOT ROBBED?!?!?!?!?!?" or "Oh my god, we've been robbed, call the police!"  No.  He says, "we got robbed" much the way I decline to super size things via drive through.  A little bummed and conflicted.

I freak out when I don't know where the mate to my sock is.  If I walked into my apartment and I had been robbed, it's very possible I would just implode or explode right on the spot.  And then whoever I was with would have to deal with all the mess and finding homes for my cats and telling my family and loved ones, etc.

Moving on.

Mr. and Mrs. Stupid walk through their home and point out everything that has been taken.  They (robbers) took the flat screen, and the sound system, blah blah blah.  Again, the tone to me sounds more like and indifferent conversation about where to go for dinner that night: "I don't know, I mean I could go for Chinese, but then I could also go for Mexican...."

And now the plot thickens. 

The robbers did not steal their shitty desktop computer.

AND THESE PEOPLE ARE BUMMED ABOUT IT!

Still failing to properly focus on what has been stolen, they jump to the obvious and rational next step in dealing with the robbery. 

"Maybe it's time for a new one."  -Mrs. Stupid regarding their computer

IT'S NOT TIME FOR A NEW ONE YOU JUST GOT ROBBED!  IT IS NOT TIME FOR ANYTHING NEW OTHER THAN THE SHIT THAT JUST GOT STOLEN FROM YOU!

I realize this is a commercial for Windows 7/Staples, but COME ON!

I can think of like, 10 other things I would do before replacing my desktop computer that I probably never used in the first place.

For example:

Call my insurance company? 

File a police report???

Cry like a girl because they took all my Sex and the City DVD's????

Nope.  The Stupids head over to their local Staples to replace THE ONE THING THAT DIDN'T GET STOLEN. 

I spent the last 10 minutes thinking about how I would have designed the commerical to make more rational sense. 

Like, maybe if I hired Natalie Portman and Colin Firth to play the couple, and instead of "Ahh...we were robbed..,"  Natalie could fall to the ground crying in a dramatic fit, "NOT THE TV!!!  GOD NOT THE TV!!  THAT WAS MY GRANDMOTHER'S TV OMG MY LIFE IS OVER!!!!"

And then Colin could swoop down from his stallion and pick her up and say, "We have to be strong, dammit!  We are going to make it through this...TOGETHER!" And then they would deal with the consequences of being robbed.

...but here's the problem:

There is absolutely no way I could justify them needing a new computer right then and there.  There's no way.  There are 2 solutions to this:

1.  It cannot be a commercial for Windows 7/Staples.  Because it just doesn't work.  It does not make sense for them to go out and spend money on something that wasn't stolen within the span of the commercial.

2.  It needs to be a commercial for the TV that the robbers actually did steal.  But honestly, even then it's still stupid.  Because people being robbed does not make for a good commerical-period.  UNLESS it's for a security system.

It's the only way.

Which brings us to the best part of the commercial:

After the Staples employee gives them all the information about their new computer and explains how everything works, Mr. Stupid looks at Mrs. Stupid, prized laptop in hand, and says (also, this is the most emotion he has shown throughout the entire commercial), "now this is something they would steal!" 

Ok, FIRST of all, really???  You just got robbed, and your primary goal was to get something ELSE that the robbers that stole from you would steal, what, the second time around??  I would be embarrassed first for even having the thought, then for saying it out loud, and then because other people heard me say it.

I feel like my mind just exploded.

Mrs. Stupid looks at him in idiotic agreement and giggles...and the commercial ends.

Oh and maybe now they get back to real life where they wake up to the unforgiving fact that their home was robbed.  And now they need to call the police.  And their insurance company.  And replace their stolen items.  And maybe invest in a security system. 

Although after watching them in the commercial they have to be the easiest fictional couple to steal from in the world.

I feel like if I went to their home after this happened and broke in, and he woke up in the middle of the night and spooked me so I bailed on the job, he would run after me with the laptop in hand and yell, "Wait!!!  It has all our baby pictures and tax information!!!!!  It will be very useful!!!  I DID THIS FOR YOU!!!!"

I want to go rob them just because they're idiots.  I just might have to travel through Narnia to find this fictional couple.  But that's a risk I'm willing to take. 

My Descent into Cat-Lady-Ism

I've always been an animal person.  Growing up, I had cats, dogs, iguanas, turtles, tortoises, hamsters, rats, lizards, you name it.  And never just one at a time, we're talking a minimum of 5 animals at all times (in different combinations of species as they died, of course).  So I am used to having a lot of animals around.  I think the most we had at one time was 3 cats, a dog, 5 desert tortoises, some giant koi, a water turtle and a few frogs in our atrium.

And then I moved out, taking the newest kitten with me.  You all know her as Large Cat.

Meet Bella:

I chose the above picture because it's very flattering.  And she looks thin.  Here she is in all her fat glory.



Here is Bella the Hut.  She's about 4 now.  And no, I didn't name her after that damn Twilight series.  She's also in love with my boyfriend.  And the feeling is mutual.

Then one day last fall I fell in love with this little monster.

This is Zoey:

(Also known as Special Cat.)

()

After a brief mental battle where I deliberated if I could handle 2 cats on my own, I took her home.  And though she wasn't pumped at first, now Bella has a friend.

Special Cat--><--Large Cat

And now Zoey is all grown up.

Which brings us up to date.  Because now there is another kitten.  That I desperately want...but as I said in a previous post, I know this pushes the boundaries of crazy cat lady.  So I am torn.  And I'm not sure what I'm going to do.  Because look at this face!

Boyfriend is on board although he is trying to be tough because I am sure he doesn't want to be swimming in cats for the next 20 years.

And I already have a name for him.  He's not mine yet, but the battle within me is raging.  So we'll see who wins.  Will it be the Cat Lady in me?  Or the part of me that doesn't want to die alone and have my cats eat me before anyone can find me?

Noooo oooone knoooows.....

Why I Need A Loris

My latest obsession thanks to my dear friend, is the slow loris.  I have decided I really need one.  Unfortunately, I have encountered many obstacles on my quest to obtain one, including the fact that it's now apparently illegal to own one. 

This is my formal rebuttal to the Committee Who Won't Let Me Have A Loris.

WHY I WANT/SHOULD BE ABLE TO GET A LORIS:

1.  They're really cute.

Just.  Look.  At.  That.  Face.  If that doesn't melt your heart, you have no soul.  And yes, the second picture is a finger that the loris is gripping.  SO CUTE.  Look at those big round eyes!  Those tiny ears!  The fingers!  Ahhhh!!!  Cute overload for suresies.  I need one.  How cool would that be???  "Ohhh, what's that?  You just got a new puppy?  Well that's cool.  But I just got a freakin' LORIS."  WIN.

2.  They like to party.

You can tell by the dollar signs where the s's should be.

And I, also like to party.  Look at these guys!  They love to be tickled , they love to hold tiny umbrellas , what's not to love?  I think we would be bff's for sure.  I even have a tentative name picked out:  Mr. Loris.  I would take Mr. Loris to the store on my shoulder, and we would laugh together and pick out Lucky Charms instead of Wheaties.  I would give him all the tiny umbrellas he could handle and I would tickle him into oblivion.  I want to party with Mr. Loris.

<--- Me + Mr. Loris + Tiny Umbrella = :)

2.  I would build their self esteem.

The name of this animal is the "slow loris."  That's...so sad.  And if that's not a kick in the balls to their ego, I don't know what is.  It's like natural selection didn't even given them a chance.  They are slow by design, and obviously, this is why they're endangered.  Predators probably also know they are "slow." 

If I had a loris, I would spend time with him doing self esteem building exercises.  I would tell him it is doesn't matter what the other animals think, I love him and he is not slow to me.  And then I would give him a tiny umbrella.

3.  Mr. Loris and my kittens would be really good friends.

I can picture it now.  I come home from a long day of work, and Mr. Loris is curled up right between Special Cat and Large Cat.  They would make one giant pile of cuteness.  And they could keep each other company while I'm at work.  It would be an animal party...every day.  Who wouldn't want that?

I really, really, really, really want a loris. 

MY REBUTTAL FOR THE REASONS I SHOULDN'T/CAN'T GET A LORIS 8:(

1.  They're endangered. 

Who isn't endangered these days?  Come on.  This is all the more reason to let me have one.  I am well versed in raising multiple puppies, kittens, gerbils and reptiles.  In conclusion, the obvious next step is to add nocturnal primate to this list. 

Mr. Loris would be so well cared for in my hands, he wouldn't even remember he was endangered.  Also, if he is really nice, I will find him a Mrs. Loris and they can have loris children which can then be released into the wild and grow the loris population and catapult them out of being endangered.  I don't know why no one has ever suggested this before, but I'm here now, so it's ok.

2.  They lick their own elbows in order to deliver a toxic bite.

Alright look, who doesn't get a little pissy every now and then?  Who doesn't want to deliver a toxic bite to their enemies?  I think the loris is very brave for standing up for himself, and humans are just jealous because they don't have venom in their elbows. 

And  maybe this is like the loris' version of PMS.  And maybe all he really needs is some chocolate.  And if not?  I will just need to train Mr. Loris not to do this.  And he will oblige.  Because he loves me.

3.  This bite can cause severe to fatal anaphylactic shock. 

SEVERE to fatal.  (So you're saying there's a chance?)  Obviously, Mr. Loris will be way too cute to be the fatal kind.  And again, with love, training, and chocolate to subdue the PMS, I think anaphylactic shock is out of the question.

4.  They urinate everywhere.

Ok, so what does everywhere mean?  I think we all know how to deal with a little bit of urine.  My solution to this, aside from knowing that Mr. Loris would be way too cool to do this, would obviously be to have Loris Diapers made.  The benefits of this would be two fold:

• It would contain the urine
• It would probably be really cute.

Problem Solved.  Next.


5.  They're really cute.

Maybe this isn't so much a reason why I can't have one, but I feel that it deserves a second mention.  Because I should be able to get one.

He obviously needs a hug.  And I know where he can get one.

Creepy Old Guys Love Me

I tend to attract a lot of creepy (and usually old) guys at my job.  It must have something to do with the fact that I'm a female, under 40, appear to be single sitting alone at my desk, and am not completely hideous.

In case you aren't aware, I work in the office at an apartment complex and run about 400 units. 

Seriously.  It happens all the time, and it's always the creepers.  It's kind of an inside joke at my office.  I have one guy that knows my schedule and comes in or calls almost every day under the guise that he needs something apartment related, only to chat about music/life/etc., and as nicely as I can I have to constantly find different ways to remove myself from the conversation. 

Here is my most recent interaction.

A guy came into my office looking for a 1 bedroom.  We'll call him Jim.  Because that's his name.  As I began to help him, he explained that the apartment was for him and his girlfriend.  So naturally, as I am explaining the rental process to him I explained that his girlfriend would need to come in to fill out some paperwork as well. 

A few minutes into this, he says, "Well, she's not really my girlfriend."

...

Red Flag #1.  ...Because he just got finished telling me that he would be living with his girlfriend.

Anyway, he was kind of (I say kind of because I usually don't catch onto the fact that a guy is flirting with me) flirting with me.  Of course I chose to ignore it. 

He's 60, by the way.  Yep.  Born in 1951- I just checked.

He was asking me what I was doing on my weekend, and feeling uncomfortable I said a really stupid thing: 

"I'm not sure.  The world is my oyster."

This isn't stupid because I shouldn't have said it, it's just a really stupid phrase.  Which speaks to how uncomfortable and awkward this was.  I forget what he said exactly, but he made some kind of comment and thought it was hilarious.  Which is odd, because it's in no way funny. 

I sent him this email in order to get the ball rolling with the rental:


Hi Jim,

Go ahead and have Carol (GIRLFRIEND) sign these 3 forms and fill out the app and send everything back to me along with her photo ID.
Thanks!

Morgan


Short and sweet.  And this is what I get in response.


morgan your wish is my command, lol see you this afternoon.　　 you r sweet.


So....awesome. i m sweet.  This might be something I would have expected from a 12 year old girl via text, but not from a 60 year old man during a business transaction via email.  Of course I didn't respond.  To Red Flag #2.  And of course,  I immediately forwarded the hilarious email to my boyfriend. 

And then it was my weekend.  So I had 2 days to make the world my oyster.  When I came back into work, I came back to this:


Welcome back from your Days off Morgan.　 Hoping my email catches you bright eyed and rested.　 Once you hunker down you should find everything you requested has been faxed on over too you.　 because friday the 18 th seems to be sneaking up on us rather quickly.　 I would like you to keep me　 informed as to when　 our application has been approved and were set to proceed to moving in on friday.　 Hopefully this will not create any undue stress on you. been thinkin bout the world is your oster comment the other day.　 I like that thanks for your help you been great. Jim 

 Seems friendly enough, but freaking weird and creepy.  And I cut and pasted these emails so these are exactly what they said.  I responded to his email:

Hi Jim,

　

I tried to call you but was unable to get through.　 I ran your credit and everything looks good.　 Tomorrow I will need you both here to sign the lease.　 Make sure to bring renter’s insurance and your account numbers.　 If you have any questions let me know, and let me know what time you plan to come in tomorrow so I can be here.

　

Thanks!

Morgan

Short.  Sweet.  NORMAL.  To the point.  And business appropriate.  Though I thought that was pretty clear and didn't warrant another email other than possibly a time when he would arrive, I received this:


hi Morgan how were your days off? got yout messageabout everythingbeing good soI guess look for us around noon tommorrow.　 Regarding the apt. insurance the agent said he was going to fax you acopy of the policy.　 All the other numbers that you requested were included in the applications.　 Many thanks again hoping to see you soon. stiill thinking bout the world being your osyter.　 does that as well make you a peril diver. teasing!　

I assume he meant "pearl" diver.  And "oyster."  Although I had never mentioned the oyster comment since my original outburst, he did not seem to be able to let it go.  I did not respond to the email and awaited his arrival for his move in.

The move-in went pretty smoothly, with surprisingly little awkwardness, except when he made another comment about the "oyster comment" and asked me what I did on my days off. 

So now he had moved in.  Unfortunately, he lives right in front of the leasing office.  Literally.  I can pretty much see his apartment from where I am sitting right now.

So one day last week he came into the office.  And here are the events that transpired:

Him:  Do I have to tell you if I got a pet?

Me: (Since I deal with this so regularly and it actually is an issue) Yes, what kind?  We actually don't allow dogs in your building.

Him:  It's a cat.

Me:  Oh ok, that's no problem.  We do have to get you to fill out this form and it's an extra deposit of blah blah blah....

Him:  It's wooden.

Me:  ...I'm sorry, what?

Him:  My cat.  It's wooden.

Me:  ...Ok.....um....

Him:  I figured I had to tell you if I got a pet.

Me:  Well, yes, but you don't have to tell me if you get a piece of wood...

Him:  Would you like to see it?

Me:  No I don't think so....

At this point my coworker is cracking up and she tells him to bring it in. 

A few minutes later I wandered out from the back of the office back to my desk, and he is sitting there, with his wooden cat sitting in the middle of my desk.  And it's got a leash on.

Let's just say for all intents and purposes it looked like this:

It didn't though.  It was way more awkward, and kind of looked like a table with a cat's face painted on the edge.  And it really had a leash on.  In case it ran away? 

So I pretended to laugh, and a little part of me died that day.

And that's what I deal with at my job.  Wooden cats.  And creepy men.  Hooray.

Drink Boulder 2010

Last January my friend Laurel and I started visiting our high school friend Susan in Boulder, Colorado. 

This is the story of the most alcohol I have ever consumed in a day.  Arguably.  Well at least until Beerfest.

Laurel and I hadn't really planned the trip out, but we did bring snowboarding clothes and prepared for at least 1 day - of a 3 day trip - of skiing/boarding/something.

Well that never happened.

And here's why.

I'll begin by explaining to those of you who don't already know that I am a textbook lightweight.  That's probably even an understatement.  My boyfriend used to think I was exaggerating, but now he knows: I just get really drunk, really easily.  Generally after a beer and a half, I'm feeling pretty good.

Susan was finishing up school in Colorado and Laurel and I had the morning to ourselves to explore the city.  Per Susan's suggestion, we headed down to Pearl Street.

We walked around and shopped for a bit. 

Now, I love to shop.  Seriously.  LOVE shopping.  Cannot get enough it.  However, on this particular day, none of the shops we perused seemed to be particularly interesting to me, or Laurel for that matter. 

We didn't really know what to do because we still had a few hours to kill before meeting up with Susan.

Until Laurel turned to me:  "Wanna just go get drunk?"

Me:  "YES!"

It was 11:30 A.M.

So we went to our first stop.  It was early, so Laurel got a beer and I (I was still not drinking beer at this point in my life - this has changed) got a vodka orange juice of some sort.  Susan met up with us for drink number 2.

We talked about what to do for the rest of the day.  Susan had a couple of suggestions, but her last suggestion is the one that we ran with:

"...Or we could just keep drinking?"

And thus, Drink Boulder 2010 had begun.  And we proceeded to make it our mission to get completely drunk.

By this point, I'm already drunk.  In all fairness I had had 2 drinks.

After the screwdrivers, Susan took us to a small Mexican restaurant that was known for its really strong margaritas.  Apparently, they only allow you to order 2 drinks per person because they are so strong.  I actually only had 1 at this destination.  And we were on our way.

Drink Count: 3
Types of Alcohol: 2

Apparently, Pearl Street is where many metal animals call home.  So Laurel and I (at Susan's suggestion, of course) decided to get involved.

We posed with every metal animal we could find, gathering confused stares from passers by.

And then we came to the majestic elk:

Yeah, that small round sign says something to the effect of, "Please don't ride the elk."  But we were drunk and obviously didn't care, or read the sign prior to mounting it.

After the animals, we moved on to our next destination, but not before making complete fools of ourselves on the streets and trying to figure out how to get to "Club Nitro," the strip club that we said we would come back for later that night. 

Everything from this point on is pretty hazy, but the next place we went was somewhere where I ordered 2 mojitos.

Here is us after the mojitos.

Drink Count: 5

Types of Alcohol: 3

By this point, it was getting close to the time that Susan had planned for us to go meet up with some of her friends from school for dinner. 

And God bless Pearl Street, because everything was in walking distance.  So we stumbled over to a place called the Med (I think?).

Here we ordered pint glasses of sangria. 

Drink Count: 6

Types of Alcohol: 4

The fact that the elevation was about to set in, and I had already mixed 4 different kinds of alcohol, was nowhere on my mind.

And so at this point, I ventured *by myself* to the bar, because I didn't think I was drunk enough, and wanted to get that way.

So I ordered 2 tequila shots.

And took both of them...

And then took this picture.  (Nooo...I don't look drunk at all....right?)

Drink Count: 8

Types of Alcohol: 5

Let's just say after that I was drunk enough.  But far from finished.

After dinner we ended up at Susan's friend's house in order to charge her phone to meet up with our next group of drinking buddies.

Her friend didn't know we were coming, but lived around the corner.  So when she opened the door to 4 or 5 drunk assholes and said, "Ok, you either want water, or more booze."

Of course, we all said "MORE BOOZE!"

Her and her boyfriend then proceeded to make us drinks called "Corpse Revivers." 

Now if you don't know what those are, and I didn't, I'll just tell you there is gin and absinthe involved.  And I had 2.

Drink Count: 10

Types of Alcohol: 7

I think I'm the only one who looks completely hammered in this picture.  Because I was...completely hammered.  There is an awesome picture somewhere on a cell phone of me passed out in a computer chair in this apartment.

So at this point, you would probably think, "Ok girls, night's over."  (It was probably about 11:30 to give you a time reference.)

But it wasn't over.

Because we actually went to the strip club we had joked about earlier. 

For some reason, I did not drink at this location, but I know my friends did.  And after tipping strippers an absurd amount of one dollar bills, we stumbled out of the strip club.

It was now probably 1 in the morning, and instead of going home, we went to another bar.  Here, I thought it would be funny to see if I could get a guy to buy me a drink (dumb, I know, but I was very drunk). 

It was a great success, and he handed me a shot of something.  I was too drunk at this point to care what it was, so I threw it back. 

...Only to discover that it was Rumplemintz. 100 proof, Rumplemintz.

Drink Count: 11

Types of Alcohol: 8

And goodnight Morgan.

Then the guys that bought me drinks handed me a beer.  Again, at this point in my life I hated beer. 

Hated it.

But I was so drunk that I drank it.  Which is confusing...

FINAL TALLY:

Drink Count: 12
Types of Alcohol: 9

So that was it.  We stumbled out of the bar around 2 in the morning.  And then we passed the elk again.  And Susan and I rode it.

And then walked to the car, extremely drunk.

And then she told me to hump this truck, and I did.  Because I was drunk.  And she could have pretty much told me to do anything and I probably would have done it. 

Except eat sushi.  I hate sushi.

Miraculously, none of us got sick.  Laurel passed out with her clothes still on.  And we all woke up the next morning with the worst hang over any of us had ever had.  (Later to be surpassed, for me at least, by Beerfest.)

"We're not going snowboarding."  Is pretty much all I could muster to tell Laurel when she finally woke up.

This was a chalkboard in one of the bathrooms where we decided that we had created a festival, and our goal was to drink all of Boulder.  And that we would make this a tradition of sorts...(this was before the hangover) which we did that September via Beerfest. 



So there will probably be a Beerfest post in the near future, because that was nuts.  Also.

And tonight, Susan is in town.  And her and Laurel and I are going to cause some mischief somewhere.  Woot.