I'm usually pretty good at paying attention, bc that little voice has been thru a lot of sht over the years, and he generally knows much better than my real brain.
I didn't listen very well last weekend.
I was all prepped to join a blow-out bartender wedding party, including the genius idea of requesting the hotel bar stay open late for the after-party. Instead, I was ThatGuy.
Way too drunk, way too quick, done too early. The lightweight. Rookie. Nancy. Letting down my friends, missing the after-party, not spending time with the people that deserve it. Dishonoring Kim and Tony's grand alcohol fest of love and wedstuff. I deserve to be disbarred from the Professional Tarbenders Association, and I'll be mailing my Tennessee Squire membership card back to Lynchburg.
Manda suggests I should post my apology here: I'm Sorry, Love. But I need to do it in public.
I had a slew of chances to listen to that little voice, but kept shushing it. Dumbass.
It's allergy season. Benedryl can perform breathing miracles.
"Do not take with alcohol."
Shush. It's just a couple little pills, and it's early. I'll be fine.
"You should grab a sandwich before meeting everyone at the bar before the wedding. That little hotel bar might not serve real food."
Can't. Running late already. I'll be fine.
"See dumbass? The hotel bar isn't even open. Make a run to McD real quick. No more yanky my wanky... the Donger need food!"
No food here. Everything's closed. I'm going to grab the after-party cooler out of the car, so we can crack a few in the rooms. I'll be fine.
"OK, OK. You know what you're doing. Just a beer or two. No liquor."
Just one shot of Svedka Vodka. I've never had it before, and I'd really like a taste. With RedBull, too! I'll be fine.
"You need to grab a snack on the way to the wedding; chips, bread, Funions, sandwich, Snickers, whatever. Put something in mah belly!"
Yep. Good idea. We can stop at that little convenience store on the way, and I'll be fine.
"You just drove past that little convenience store. Tell her to turn around!"
Yah, I know. We're almost there now. We'll check in, say hello, and I'll sneak back for a snack if they don't have munchies out. I'll be fine.
"We're here. No munchies. Let's go down back down the street now."
Shush. I'm chatting. I haven't seen these guys in forever.
"You're stalling. Finish that bottle, and let's go. Hurry up. No, dammit, you do not have time for 'just one more' before the wedding starts."
You're really starting to irritate me, little voice. I told you, I'll be fine.
"Time's up. Wedding / appetizers / reception is starting in a minute, just have a glass of water and chill for a bit."
I'll have another beer please.
"Salad does not count as 'eating something', and beer does not go well with salad. Drink some water before you get drunk."
Oooooh, they have wine at the winery! Imagine!
"But you don't drink wine."
Shush. This is a special occasion, and we're at a winery. I drink wine today! I'll be juuuuuusht fiine.
"You're drunk. Eat a good dinner, drink a couple glasses of water, and chill out for a bit."
I like wine, and wine likes me.
"You're slurring. Quit talking."
Shush. Everyone at the table is vitally interested in all my way too personal information.
"You're sloshing red wine all over yourself. Don't order any more."
Wow, little voice, you finally made a bit of sense! I'll have another glass of white, please.
"Dude. Stop already. There's a whole second party to go to in a bit. Ease off now, and you'll roll right into the next one."
Nope. Point of no return. "Ease off" is not happening now. Game on! Ima go dansh some more.
"Hey, the reception is over. You should call your sister, who's watching the kids. She can play the voice mail for them as a life lesson."
Great idea, Little Voice! You must be drunk, too! I'll call her right now.
"Wake up drunky. It's 1130, we're in the driveway at home, and you can't sleep in the car."
K. Bed is niiiiishe.
So many chances, and I missed every single one of 'em. Little voice knows, and I know to listen, but effed it up for me and everyone that I disappointed that night.
I'm sorry, and I won't let it happen again. From now on, I'm never playing in the rookie league again. It's totally uncool to everyone who had to put up with my retarded ass last weekend.
If anybody knows how to get in touch with the skinny-girl bartender at the winery, she deserves the biggest apology of all. She escorted me up the hill to the main plantation house to use the restroom. It was dark and drizzling, and the house was straight out of an episode of ScoobyDoo. I can still hear the spooky music.
I started doubting her on the front walk, asking if she was taking me into some sort of trouble. She kinda giggled, but I think she kinda played it up a little bit. Pushed the buttons a little bit, and I got a little nervous.
I didn't turn my back on her for a second, b/c I was getting more and more nervous. And she was taking it farther and farther. All I know was that when I was done in the restroom, I was really scared to open the door and come back out to the hallway. I knew she was waiting out there with a big machete to drop into my skull.
I cut the light, and pulled the door the slightest bit. Peeped out with just an eyeball. I can live with one eye, but not with my head opened like a summer melon at a picnic. She saw my eye, and pushed the buttons some more. I told her I was scared of what she was gonna do, and she needed to stay alllll the way down at that end of the hall so I could sneak out the front door.
She wanted to know what I thought she was planning. I dunno.... machetes and haunted houses and all that. For all I know, she's planning to cut me open and eat my liver! And she totally rolled with that. Admitted to my drunkass that she was a connoisseur of fine human innards, and I was def on the menu if I let my guard down for half a second.
Fuuuuck that. I'm outta that nuthouse now. No effing way I'm going to a wedding with my friends and winding up as foie gras. I backed out the door, and got safely back down to the reception hall. My total relief was shattered when nobody believed that cute little bartender was a closet cannibal trying to cut me open for my sweetbreads.
I'm very sorry, skinny little bartender girl.
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Another motorbike game, with a gentler learning curve.
Jen posed the hair metal challenge, and I nailed it 100%! (I've been debating for a week whether I should admit my score or keep it hidden.)
Do you remember they used to have Missile Command in the table-top arcade version at the old Pizza Hut? And in the swimming pool clubhouse?????? I was never in the clubhouse with Jacob, but he was still kind enough to submit the link.
Jacob's second classic link. Donkey Kong! I played for HOURS after school at the old Pizza Shop in the mall. Played cross-handed, of course, left-handed-joysticking was for rookies.
Oooooooh, ColorShift is one heck of an addictive puzzle game. Hurt my brain a bit. If I wasn't trying to be on vacation in a short little while I would have been sucked into this one for quite some time.
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(giggle)
I think she's been successfully paroled from her sentencing to the wrecks, but plenty of us have been here. And we all love to laugh at the others who are suffering thru it now. Jules gives us DateWrecks.
A collection of all the best April Fools sites from around the interwebs. The flipped version of YouTube definitely effed with my head a little bit.
No shit.
I've said many times that bacon makes everything taste better, but I never meant everything....
Lots of talk this week about the Conficker worm (which has been a relative dud). Here's a tip for those of you who run Windoze, have not applied latest security patches, and have not updated your anti-virus definitions this week... a simple chart to test for infection.
Seth discovered that NASA tests everything:
More on NASA, but only for the science geeks out there: A debunking of the "faked moon landing" conspiracy theory.
Dominic found the most telling variation between the Bush and the Obama administrations:
Jenny McCarthy and the anti-vaxxers are effing tards. I wish bad things never happened to kids anywhere, but the alternative is dead kids. Here's her body count to date.
Finally, to close out this week's Waster, I'm putting a feather in my own cap. If your boss gives you any crap about surfing the web on a lazy, rainy, Friday afternoon, tell him to kiss off. Web surfing actually increases productivity!
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