This weekend I: nearly went home with silverballs
dug up my binder full of tabs from when I took guitar lessons in high school
cruised around in a limo sipping champagne and listening to rap
went to a drag show (note: I want to be a drag queen when I grow up)
got a free semi-striptease from 3 very drunk Italian dudes
slept in a room for 3 with 9 other girls
got hung the fuck over
got my shit together
and got my hair did
casually interviewed the dude from Horse Feathers
and reaffirmed my girl crush on Thao.
and the only thing that's missing is more sleep, but who needs that?
Showing posts with label getting down. Show all posts
Showing posts with label getting down. Show all posts
Monday, August 4, 2008
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Just got home from work. After about nine hours I start getting a little loopy. It's weird.
I was talking with one of the little girls there about deflowering virgins because she hasn't and I have. She asked me what my "number" was and I told her three because it's true and she was like, "Oh, it's okay daddy!" (note: it is really easy to get 17 year old girls to call you "daddy") and started hugging and consoling me. I was like, I happen to be kind of picky about the kid-touchers, drug-dealers and adulterers who I allow to enter my quivering woman flesh, okay?
One of the other servers went home early because he felt sick and started puking his guts out immediately after his dinner break. I should probably pack a lunch tomorrow. I should probably stop referring to other human beings as "servers". We're supposed to say it in our little script at the beginning of the meal but I refuse. Instead of "My name is Megan, I'll be your server." I say, "My name is Megan, I'll be taking care of you this afternoon/evening." Server sounds like I was born to refill diet vanilla cokes. Taking care of you this afternoon sounds like I choose to devote myself to others for nine hours at a time because I'm just nurturing like that. It's probably unhealthy that I've even thought about it that much.
Went to the Ocean House last night. Got the fuck down. There's nothing like getting drunk and shaking my ass and then filling up on doritos and vitamin water to make me feel good. I also like telling people I don't want to talk to again that my name is Emily and I work at Chili's. There are so many fucking Chili's around here that even if they ask if I know so and so I can say no, I work at the other one.
Man, I HAVE to go to the store and get some kitty litter. Toby deserves better than this.
I was talking with one of the little girls there about deflowering virgins because she hasn't and I have. She asked me what my "number" was and I told her three because it's true and she was like, "Oh, it's okay daddy!" (note: it is really easy to get 17 year old girls to call you "daddy") and started hugging and consoling me. I was like, I happen to be kind of picky about the kid-touchers, drug-dealers and adulterers who I allow to enter my quivering woman flesh, okay?
One of the other servers went home early because he felt sick and started puking his guts out immediately after his dinner break. I should probably pack a lunch tomorrow. I should probably stop referring to other human beings as "servers". We're supposed to say it in our little script at the beginning of the meal but I refuse. Instead of "My name is Megan, I'll be your server." I say, "My name is Megan, I'll be taking care of you this afternoon/evening." Server sounds like I was born to refill diet vanilla cokes. Taking care of you this afternoon sounds like I choose to devote myself to others for nine hours at a time because I'm just nurturing like that. It's probably unhealthy that I've even thought about it that much.
Went to the Ocean House last night. Got the fuck down. There's nothing like getting drunk and shaking my ass and then filling up on doritos and vitamin water to make me feel good. I also like telling people I don't want to talk to again that my name is Emily and I work at Chili's. There are so many fucking Chili's around here that even if they ask if I know so and so I can say no, I work at the other one.
Man, I HAVE to go to the store and get some kitty litter. Toby deserves better than this.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
