I am going to have the biggest hangover tomorrow

So basically, I've been drinking since 11:00am. It is now 1:32am, just to let you guys know.

Today was my cousin Billy's first Communion. And even though I identify more as Pagan now, WHATEVER, it's still a beautiful day. And I can get behind the ideas of unity, love, and family and community, all of the point of 1st Commmunion.

So it's the Dakes side of my family. I love them. They are the best. It's about FAMILY and LAUGHTER and LOVE, people. And if you know my family, it's also about BEER.

Oh my god, today was an insane day. And we had many political arguments (I am the sole liberal here) and many emotional tears were shed, but let me tell you:

I love my family. They always make me strive to be better than I can be. It is them who I wish to make proud more than anyone. Man, my grammar is awesome.

I hope today finds you just as happy drunk as I am. I love you all.

I am going to throw up so much tomorrow

First drunken post of '09!

Just got back from the farewell happy hour for Susan (who, despite only hanging out over Editorial Conferences, I am going to really miss) and now I am tipsily watching BSG with a margarita by my side (YES I'VE HAD JOSE CUERVO FOR DINNER WHAT OF IT?).

You guys. I am doing better. Mainly because of the José Cuervo, but WHATEVER. I have the best friends. I am writing a lot for my thesis. I have a sort of fictional story cooking kind of related to me and Brisket that I am preparing to write. I feel good about it. Also? I feel like I am on the cusp of awesome.

I know that I am not making a whole lot of sense and I've been sort of a downer here. But I promise that I will cheer up and things are going to get better. It has to. It's spring. Spring is the time of new beginnings.

I want you to know that I appreciate you. That I love you. That you make the shit days better.

Thanks, you guys. I lovr you all.

All Souls

Things I have done tonight:

- Worn The Birds costume for the 4th and final time. Let me tell you people: I am so over those effing birds. Screw you, birds. I hate you.

- Changed into a gold lame tank top that I bought at the same scary thrift store where the sweater dress was purchased and Haven's gold boots and danced around like an asshole in front of all of my friends for the entertainment of one darling Renee.

- Arranged docking.

- Tried in vain to teach Stephen and Matt how to properly walk in heels.

- Held a sweet drunken Lukey-Pookie in my lap while he voted on girls on HotOrNot.com

Happy Day after Halloween, everyone. I love you all.

Oh, hi.

So I'm sitting here having a dinner of vodka hurricanes (YES, I AM DRINKING FROZEN VODKA COCKTAILS ON AN EMPTY STOMACH DO YOU HAVE ANY MORE QUESTIONS) and I realized that it's been ages since I've posted (ok, a week and a half, which is about 4 months in internet time) and that it's sort of ridiculous, given that I have a lot of awesome things to post about.

First, though, the bad. As referenced by this post, your favorite Haven-named person and mine had a bit of a health scare. She's doing much better, but your continued healing wishes and thoughts are appreciated because it's long road of recovery. I would also like to issue a public thank you for Mazz. Thank God or Goddess or Zeus or whatever, but if Mazz hadn't been there and had the wherewithal to recognize what was happening, we very well could have been Haven-less. On the other hand, I would like to issue a giant "fuck you" to Mercy Suburban hospital for sending my friend home with a 109˚ fever and claiming it was "anxiety."

Meanwhile in the good corner, this summer is shaping up to be such an incredible time for me. I feel like everything is going my way, although that makes it sound as though I've just rested on my laurels letting fate do all the work.

First of all, I sucked it up and crossed number 48 off my list and I FINALLY learned how to ride a bike. Kelly and Mel were kind enough to teach me how to ride like a big girl. And by "teach" I mean "try not to wet their pants laughing at me while I tried not to careen into bushes and cars." I managed pretty well, I think, once I picked up the whole balance thing. The furthest I've ridden is about 2 blocks, I'm still scared of going downhill, and braking is slightly questionable. But I'm only going to get better, and I have a bit more confidence regarding the whole thing. When I was learning, I only had one "serious" fall, and it wasn't serious at all. I was headed towards the curb and forgot how to brake (OKAY, I'm not retarded, I swear. I was learning on a bike without gears or speeds or whatever so I had to pedal backwards to brake, which is hard when you're first learning. Quit picking on me) and basically crashed. It wouldn't have been so bad, except this perfect nuclear family happened to be walking by at the time and the 6 year-old daughter oogled me all "What the fuck?" when I crashed in front of her. "This is why you learn when you're 7," I told her as I picked myself up off the ground. "And not when you're 27."

Next up: I need to buy myself a bike. And a helmet.

--

About 2 weeks ago Dave turned 30! He had his usual birthday bash, this time with a rave in his living room. Dave had purchased himself some sort of synthesizer thingamabob and he played while Shanna, Kate and I danced for, seriously, 3 hours and all of Dave's lights flashed everywhere.







Doctor Strangelove was being projected on the ceiling. The lights made for some pretty trippy photography.





Make a wish, Dave!



--

Oh, hey, remember when I was talking about crossing things off lists? (Sorry the vodka is kicking in. HELLO.) I technically also crossed number 23 off as I had an article and a photo published in Ticket. The article isn't as good as I would have liked, but whatever. I haven't done any "journalism" since college and due to some unforeseen band drama, the interview process didn't go quite the way I had planned. But I made the best of it, and look at that! I got myself a byline! It's not the type of publishing I had in mind when I made my list, but a byline is a byline. I'll take it. Next up: something creative published.

An article about the art show I'm in (you can still see it! It's at Dirty Frank's until August 1!) was also published in Ticket and I was interviewed for it and an image of my piece was printed with the article. I harbor no delusions -- I know that it was just because I know the editor-in-chief -- but it was still pretty neat.

--

I was supposed to go to Baltimore this past weekend for Teresa's baby shower, but my car was making an angry RRWWWWW noise, which I believe translates into "fuck you" in people language, so I didn't go. Which is a shame, because OH DO I HAVE CUTE GIFTS. That kid is going to be so spoiled.

Since I didn't go to Baltimore, I went to BlobFest instead, since Renee was kind enough to drive me. She and I made it to the running out of the theater which was SO DORKY AND RAD. I'll have a further update soon, with photos.

--

Wait. There were other things. But now I'm tipsy and I don't remember. Hmmm. I think there needs to be more vodka for this to work.

Happy Birthday Lisa!

So it's Lisa's 30th birthday (actually, it was monday, but we're celebrating tonight WHATEVER). I may or may not have done the following:

• Made a chocolate stout cake -- and ATE it (it was fucking delicious and worth every damn calorie).
  
  
• Drank an entire magnum of champagne with the girls (slugging it straight out of the bottle like the classy broads we are).
  
  
• Photographed Lisa diving head first into the icebox cake we also made for her.
  
  
• Done about 3 too many shots.
  
  
• Drunk dialed Sarah and cheered her on for being fucking awesome.

Hey guys, have I mentioned that I'm going to WALES? I love you all.

Lessons

Today I've learned:

• To let Debbie handle things because Brian is too busy being Brian to actually handle anything.
  
  
• Not to rush when trying to refill coolers with Gatorade because in so doing, you will slam your hand into a shelf while trying to grab bottles and thus jack the fuck out of your knuckles.
  
  
• Rugby is mother fucking HARD CORE. Anyone who says different is lying. Today I saw two rugby players slam into each other face first, and in the process, both players broke their noses. AND THEY CONTINUED PLAYING.
  
  
• Rugby players -- generally speaking -- spit, cuss, bleed, curse, grunt, fight, slam, yell, and eat. Essentially, they are 6'2" of walking testosterone, all bollocks and swagger.
  
  
• It's kind of sexy.
  
  
• In fact, it's very sexy.
  
  
• In response, your estrogen will kick into high gear. You will want to bed all of the rugby players.
  
  
• So when only a fraction of the players actually show up to the bar, you will be very disappointed.
  
  
• Never go to Maggianos with Brian, and never let him order. Our poor waitress.
  
  
• Peach Bellinis are sofuckinggood.
  
  
• I have to do all of this again tomorrow.

I get by with a little help from my friends

Even though I've had the crappiest week (my car broke down, yes
again, and may cost as much as $800 to fix), I have to say, nothing is better than friends.

So thank you friends. Thank you to Jim, who sympathized and looked up info on new cars for me. Thank you to Jen, who is not only the best boss evah, but also carted my ass home. Thank you to Tammi, who was willing to be there.

But biggest THANK YOUS go out to Debbie and Brian. There is precious little wrong in this world that wine and belting out some Beatles songs can't cure. I just had a fabulous dinner, sang at the top of my lungs, laughed, cried, and earned British Street Cred. You made me forget my problems.

I love all of you guys.

And tomorrow: Rugby, Hot British Boys, Booze, and Photography.

I'll get through this. Everything is going to be OK. And as John Lennon said, Love is all you need.

Open Letter

To the Blond Ho-bag at the Bar:

STEP OFF. He's either mine or Krista's. Just because you have blond hair and a teeny-tiny waist doesn't mean anything. Because here's what you also have: a beat face, a fake tan, and zero personality. Unless that personality is "whore."

Krista and I may not have blond hair and I certainly don't have a tiny waist, but you know what we do have? Intelligence, talent, wit, and legs that go all the way down to the floor, my dear. I also have (and correct me if I'm wrong) a rack that doesn't quit. Krista's got a wagon she's draggin' that makes straight girls holler. We also both possess a certain amount of self respect.

Which is why -- really -- you need to sit your sorry, wasted ass down. And also, it's why I felt the need to be a bitch and cut in on you and said gentleman. Because the two of you together was making my upchuck reflex hit overdrive. And of course, I was trying to be all up ons. Go find a vapid man to fit your vapid personality.

Bitchily,

8K

P.S. - I firmly believe that the 5 minute conversation he and I had was more stimulating to him than anything you said all night.

Upon reflection this morning, I realized that this letter was less than charitable. Thinking about it and remembering the conversation Krista and I had in the bathroom I came to the realization that the girl (annoying and cock blocking though she was) probably suffers from the same sort of insecurities that I do. So I feel kind of bad having posted this just because I was frustrated and I didn't get my way.

Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday shout-outs to Kelly, Luke, Mike and Krista!

Topics of the night include: How to weigh your boobs, tattoos, girly drinks, foot-long hot dogs, Luke's lack of body hair, Guitar Hero, inflatable sheep, and ice packs.

Activities of the night have included: Shoving cake huge slices of cake into our faces (if you're Luke), Defending our lack of body hair (if you're Luke), getting shitfaced (if you're Luke), tricking people into opening fake peanut brittle cans (if you're Seth), voyages to 7Eleven (if you're a boy), and discussion of Thesises (if you're a nerd).

I love you cazy insane people. Thanks for making me feel awesome and beautiful everyday.

P.S. - Mini shout out to Bobby!, who I haven't seen in years. As Kelly used to say, "I love Bobby!" True story.

Some observations at too late on a Sunday evening

• I can never ever travel to anywhere in the U.K. Know why? Because ten minutes off of the plane, I would be pregnant. British, Scottish, Welsh, and especially Irish accents are so dead sexy, I just don't know what to do with myself. Well, actually, I know exactly what to with myself, if you catch my drift.
  
  
• Shout out to Pete, whose accent made me realize it. Seriously, man. If you didn't have a super cute, smart, amazing wife whom I rather like, I would be all up ons. You had me at, "Bugger all, yeah?"
  
  
• I am totally going to your next cricket match. I am going to score me a bloke with an accent.
  
  
• Brian actually asked me "What's this? New man in your life?" to which I laugh and laugh and laughed my fool head off and responded, "You realize you're talking to ME, right?"

Greetings from Rhode Island!

I'm in Rhode Island with my triplets and I'm writing to you to say:

1. Hi.
   
   
2. Sorry that I haven't updated recently. I've been busy.
   
   
3. I have stories to tell you. I also have a bazillion more photos to show you, mostly from Tom's wedding, but also from Fourth of July and the photos from this weekend.
   
   
4. Kate, Becky, and I went to a flea market this morning. Guess what I bought? Another camera.
   
   
5. Shut up.
   
   
6. I know, like I needed it, right? Shut up.
   
   
7. Ok, you know what? It was an antique. A Brownie. For only $2. COME ON. I couldn't pass that up.
   
   
8. I also found (in a separate Brownie camera) a roll of exposed film. From at least the 70s. So I finagled that as well and I'm going to send it off to Colorado, the only place in America that still develops 126 film, and see if there's anything on it. Probably not.
   
   
9. I may, or may have not, had a couple glasses of wine with the girls. I'll leave that much up to you.
   
   
10. I love you.
    
    
11. See you kids Monday or Tuesday when I update properly.

Dry Spell, Prepare to be Moistened!

Do you know why tonight was the best night? Well, I will tell you, silly.

Because the night started out at Fergie's pub for dorky Bloomsday events, with my girlz Renee and Justine. 3 ciders on an empty stomach = drunk Eightk. Add in a spontaneous trip to Lush for gratuitous lotions and soaps. Call the Redhead because you love her. Arrive at the Irish Pub and drink more. Then head to the Bards next door and eat lots of boxty and curry fries. Drink more, of course.

Have the beautiful Nirm pick you up and jam your way out of the city to Bollywood tunes. Go to some dive bar in Bryn Mawr and eye up hot punk boys while getting your drinks paid for.

Confidential to the hot punk boy I hooked up with: OH MY GOD, you are so impossibly hot and exactly who my mother warned me about. CALL ME. We'll have fun again.

Sexy Back

Things you should know:

• I have been cooking since 11:30am
  
• I have been drinking champagne since 6:30pm
  
• I am wearing a corset
  
• And a short skirt
  
• And boots
  
• I am damn hot
  
• I have been eating aphrodisiac food all night
  
• It has been working
  
• Sadly, there are no single men to take advantage of the fact that I am horny and tipsy

WHERE ARE YOU, SINGLE MEN? I AM PRACTICALLY A HOMING SIGNAL FOR YOU.

Um, Hi. Yes, I may be slightly tipsy. STOP JUDGING ME. I love you all...