I never really thought

...That I would enjoy blogging so much. Which is weird, considering that I am the kind of girl who had a journal...And these ridiculous stories of mine? Are stories that if I HADN'T been blogging, then I totally would've e-mailed my friends. And not only am I writing these stories here, I also was talked into writing over here too.

...That I wouldn't even think twice about asking twitter to help me pick out shoes to buy, or to remind me to do something.

...That I would have the balls to do a meet-up with some bloggers/tweeters in Las Vegas, where I got completely drunk, got my boobs graffiti'd, and took a shitload of pictures.

...That I would make a last minute decision to crash Miss Grace's Super Secret Trip of Awesome where I'd sleep on the couch, try to figure out WTF is a Virgin Tin Lady, and randomly give a last minute tour of a Marine Corps Depot (because someone had never been on a Marine Corps Base and/or met a Marine IN UNIFORM --which, OMG. A Marine in uniform is quite possibly the sexiest sight there is.)

...That I would decide that I would go to Blogher, and end up spending 5 days in NYC, where there's going to be Hooters, and drinking and SHENANIGANS.

Nope. Never would have thought this would be my life. BUT I'M SO GLAD IT IS.

File this under: Things I didn't know I had to tell people.

A couple of weeks ago, a friend talked me into going on a completely unplanned trip to Las Vegas with her because it was her birthday. She said she'd buy my plane ticket and rent the hotel room. What she DIDN'T say is that she had been seeing  a guy who just happens to live in Vegas, and that she was going to meet up with him once we hit town. Which...okay. I don't really have a problem with because you are allowed to do whatever you want with your twat as long as it doesn't affect me.

But let's just say that we all go back to the room to watch TV. And I fall asleep, because it's Vegas, I've been drinking and I'm hot and tired and slightly hungover from the previous night where I stupidly went out and SAID I was going to leave around 9 because I had an early day planned and then didn't leave until after midnight after having one tequila shot too many, and I wake up to SEX SOUNDS but since I'm in the room and you are FORTY-FUCKING-SOMETHING years old I KNOW this can't be happening, BUT IT IS. I AM REALLY LYING HERE PRETENDING TO BE SLEEPING WHILE YOU BANG THIS GUY IN THE BED not even 2 feet from my bed. So then I fall back asleep in self-defense before I spontaneously explode and/or completely go ape shit because I can't even believe this really happened.** I guess I didn't know this was something I need to say but, for the record:

I DON'T WANT TO BE PRESENT WHEN YOU HAVE SEX.

I leave in a huff because REALLY? Who does that? You call me. And after I tell you about yourself, I *still* have to tell you that this dude is not spending the night?

I guess we can agree that at this point, her cooch is interfering with my good time, yes? I am forced to stage an intervention, and remind the her thoughtless twat that SHE invited me to spend the weekend with her, to drink, gamble and lay by the pool. Not to listen to her get laid.

The rest of the weekend was not horrible. She ditched the dude after that, and the next day we went over to the Hard Rock to gamble and flirt with cute boys. I even managed to bring home my spending money. Although, I suspect it was only because they knew I would be returning the next week and knew that it would hurt more when they snatched it away on my next trip out. (Note: it did. OUCH)

Still though, I can never really have a BAD time in Vegas. But if figures that the one time it would have been totally awesome to have been so drunk that I have NO memory of the things that went on my weekend in Vegas, I remember EVERY. SINGLE. DETAIL. Gah!



**Also, I would like to mention that porn with people that I don't know on a DVD that I can turn on/off when I want to see it? OK. Unrequested, spontaneous live-action porn starring friends? Not. OK. EVAR.

***AND, after the profuse apologizing, she bought us tickets to see The Lion King. A show I HIGHLY recommend you go see. For serious.

I can be guilt tripped all the way to the gym, apparently

For the last couple of weeks I've been going to the gym. (Again. I've started going, again.) The front desk clerk, who usually just says hello & goodbye has started clocking my time.


Ohh, I haven't seen you in a few days...

I'll see you tomorrow...right?

Why do you look so sleepy?

"DUDE. It's 5AM. This is how everybody should look at 5AM."

And I started wondering why this guy is giving me the business? I don't remember signing up for a trainer, or a make-sure-undercovermama-gets-her-ass-to-the-gym-guy. And yet, there he is. Mocking me with his extra cheerful "good morning" and his "see you tomorrow" I mean, REALLY?

But here's the thing. I went to the gym Friday. And then I skipped Saturday, because well... #worldcup. And Sunday, I was too busy getting ready for the 4th of July bash at my house. Monday, I just plain didn't want to get out of bed. So I didn't. YESTERDAY, though... yesterday, I went to the gym. I got the ridiculously cheerful good morning, then I got THE LOOK. You know the one. The one that says I KNOW YOU HAVEN'T BEEN HERE ALL WEEKEND AND SHAME ON YOU.

And do you know that sonofabitch worked? I felt GUILTY! So guilty that this morning, when The Man snuggled me and asked for 10 more minutes, I said, No, I have to go to the gym. GAH! And I did. And he was there all cheerful and shit, telling me to have a great workout (which I did, but still. THE MOCKING, PEOPLE, THE MOCKING) As, I was leaving he smirks at me and says "I'll see you tomorrow, RIGHT?"

Yeah, yeah, you'll see me tomorrow. Jerk.