Undercover: Girly-girl

Now I know why I don't have many female friends:
They're fucking DRAMA!

Geeze, Louise!
Something about hanging out with a bunch of girls just tires me the fuck out.

Is it the constant bickering? Can you be quiet for a fucking second?!
Is it the constant female-on-female hating? Who gives a fuck what she did to you five years ago? Let. It. Go!
Is it the constant primping? Look, it's not like we're outside in the middle of a sandstorm... your hair is FIIIINE!! Quit acting like damn chimps!
Is it the constant eye-rolling you get from rival gaggles of girls? Where's a fork when you need one? I'm gonna pop those eyes right out of their sockets if you keep putting them to bad use like that!
Is it the constant trips to the bathroom? You'd think they were giving away free diamonds at this place with the frequency, and hoards that these chicks go.

Mannnn!
It's horrible.

And I had to do all this in a pair of wedges... and I alternated between skirts and pants. I had a wardrobe change in my sister's car (while in the passenger's seat and as we were headed to the various locations) a total of three times.

First, it was some sort of... stuck-up restaurant/bar thing.
Sister was told to go and ask for the table Twiggy (her bitch "friend" from high school) had RSVP'd for her a couple of days back.

Oh, I got a table for 15 because ::goes on to list a shitload of Little Sister and Twiggy's mutual friends:: are going to go... and so is your sister, right? But don't worry, I got everything set for you. I even got ::guy who allows Little Sister and Twiggy to drink although both are under 21:: to hook you guys up. Hope you have fun... I won't be able to go, though, because my parents need me in Pahrump this weekend. Have funnn!

So we get to the place... and how many folks are there? Five. Five! In a table for 15.
With my Little Sister and me, we made it seven... but still.
Then, as we were sitting there, we found out Twiggy had informed the people that Little Sister was turning 20 (and I guess this place is a 21+ bar)... so the waiters never asked us what type of drinks we'd like (and this made sister worried because she picked up on something being terribly wrong since she goes to this place often), they just automatically brought us water... and the manager kept checking our table, making sure none of us had a drink (and they looked ready to pounce on us and ask for ID once one of us asked for an alcoholic beverage).
I'm twenty-fucking-two! What the fuck?? I need to quit hanging out with twenty-year-olds.

So, seeing as how this place was... fucked up and little Miss Twiggy had decided to fuck us over, we left the place at 10:30PM.
Five minutes later Twiggy text'd my sister and asked her how everything was going... the fucking bitch.
She had been texting back and forth with the waiter... how fucked up is that (and this is why I avoid hanging out with too many chicks)?

From there we decided to go back to my friend's wedding.
This is where I had wardrobe change one (well, for the day it was wardrobe change number four, but in a car, it was change number one).
I went from pants to a skirt as Little Sister drove down I-215 to almost the fucking middle of nowhere (Santa Fe Station. That shit is... man, we might as well have just gone out to Mt. Charleston).
So we got to the wedding... it was loud, people were dancing... but we sat at the table of the lonesome-super-depressed twenty-something-year-olds-who-realize-their-lives-are-drastically-changing-and-aren't-too-happy-about-it that was far, far away from the dance floor.
That's where the whole rival girls did their shit, my Sister and her friends did the whole "Let's go to the bathroom!" every five minutes (what the fuck, girls? Are you guys snorting cocaine in there?), and I opted to hang out with the boys.

I felt good knowing I wasn't the only one feeling bummed out. We were all acting like zebras when they see one of their herd members is about to be taken down by a pride of lions... we were kind of relieved it wasn't us... we were sad to see one of our group members go... but we still keep running the fuck away (although there was one girl there who also looks like she's about to take the plunge next... please, please let it be my imagination!).
The look on the faces of all of us people that participated in the bride's Quinceañera seven years ago was the same:
Upset disbelief.

Guy Friend 1: Fuck, man... we're getting old.
Me: I know... this makes me sad.
Guy Friend 2: I didn't think she'd be the first one to get married out of all of us.
Guy Friend 1: I didn't think she'd get married at all!
Me: No, that's me.
Guy Friend 2: Hey, wanna look at my dog?
Guy Friend 1: His dumb little dog is so cute!
Me: (what the fuck is this? I thought only girls talked like that) You know, I once had a friend who dumped a guy because he had a picture of his dog in his wallet.

Guy Friend 2 had a cell phone out showing me his dumb little one-month-old dog doing suicide jumps off his couch.

Me: Oh my God... you have your dog on your cell phone?
Guy Friend 1: It's my cell phone.
Me: That's so gay.
Guy Friend 2: Why??
Me: I thought my brother had issues for putting a picture of Tyson (my dog) on his Myspace... but... on your phone?
Guy Friend 2: I love my dog.
Guy Friend 1: Yeah... that damn dog is cute! Not like your dog... all ugly and mean!
Me: Fuck you, my dog's a beautiful bastard!

Next thing you know, I'm whipping out my cell phone to get on Myspace and show everyone how awesome my dog is... and how much better he is than a one-month-old, suicidal Husky who jumps off tall furniture (which in the end, I agreed the Husky was a damn adorable, idiot dog).
I ended up doing this until 12:30AM... when the wedding was over, all us twenty-something year-olds were depressed (and amused by the actions of dumb puppies), and it was time to say goodbye to all the company.

Since we were so upset, we twenty-something year-olds decided to go to Guy Friend 1 and 2's friend's house and smoke hookah (and on our way to these dudes' home was where I had wardrobe change two).

Now, I'm not a fan of smoking... in any way... so I took the seat furthest away from the damn machine... but that place also ended up being the place where all the bastards smoking would blow.
I was pretty irritated... but the guys sitting closest to me were cracking me up... mainly because one of them was so messed up by NyQuil, he'd be talking crazy shit (like how he thought Boxer breeds of dogs "have the best balls because they just... hang all nice"). He was also drinking chicken soup out of a thermos... and that was just... it kind of made me hungry (but I wanted to keep my distance because getting sick isn't one of my top priorities right now).

All in all, I got home pretty late... I had to make wardrobe change 3 on my way home so Mom wouldn't smell smoke on me... I went to bed irritated and sad... and I woke up tired and confused.

I'm a very bad girly-girl.