Fuuuuck.
I feel like shit today.
This weekend's events ganged up on me and slapped me across the face.
The good news is that the pain is strictly physical, because emotionally I'm at a good place. I had seriously underestimated how good it would feel to be there for a friend in something as simple as a running event.
This helped solidify my suspicion that charity work... completes me.
Seeing the look of joy on others makes ME feel good-- and that's not me being a suck-up. I'm being sincere, as corny as I may come off. I'm fine with that. It's no news flash that I'm a total cornball.
Soy cursi hasta la madre!
However, a night of hanging out followed by an early morning run added up to me nearly losing my voice... and walking around like I have been beaten with a hundred bamboo sticks.
I've had that (sorry for using the term) tranny voice since yesterday, I've been making slow movements like some curious hermit crab, and I've been falling asleep all over the place like some narcoleptic.
Good times.
But enough complaining.
Actually, no, no, this complaining reminds me of a little something that went down on Friday.
Alright, so, the man of the hour was totally my homie Alex. Sure, the shindig was for someone else, but he just cracked me the fuck up.
I was being a whiny little bitch about my car for some reason or another, and the more patient of the dudes volunteered to see my mangled car... you know... because I was so upset about its condition and whatnot.
Upon returning to the party, Alex asked where we had been.
Me: I went to go show him my tainted baby, my hideously messed up car.
Apparently I spoke too loud or something, because everyone in the room became interested in the story.
Me: No, no, don't worry. I'm kind of a drama queen.
Alex: Yeah, you kind of are.
And THAT, my friends, is why I have more guy friends than girl friends (and ALL my female besties are truthful like that. It's the reason I have so few of them, they're more difficult to come across). So straight up. It cracked me up... just like this cleverness:
It's also how I stay grounded and chill the hell out when something upsets me.
The straightforwardness came in handy when later in the night a very drunk girl swatted my Tequila-and-Squirt out of my hand and onto my right pant-leg and right shoe.
I feel like shit today.
This weekend's events ganged up on me and slapped me across the face.
The good news is that the pain is strictly physical, because emotionally I'm at a good place. I had seriously underestimated how good it would feel to be there for a friend in something as simple as a running event.
 |
| To say these two sisters had a rough 2011 would be an understatement. One lost her husband, the other nearly loses her life. |
Seeing the look of joy on others makes ME feel good-- and that's not me being a suck-up. I'm being sincere, as corny as I may come off. I'm fine with that. It's no news flash that I'm a total cornball.
Soy cursi hasta la madre!
However, a night of hanging out followed by an early morning run added up to me nearly losing my voice... and walking around like I have been beaten with a hundred bamboo sticks.
I've had that (sorry for using the term) tranny voice since yesterday, I've been making slow movements like some curious hermit crab, and I've been falling asleep all over the place like some narcoleptic.
Good times.
But enough complaining.
Actually, no, no, this complaining reminds me of a little something that went down on Friday.
Alright, so, the man of the hour was totally my homie Alex. Sure, the shindig was for someone else, but he just cracked me the fuck up.
I was being a whiny little bitch about my car for some reason or another, and the more patient of the dudes volunteered to see my mangled car... you know... because I was so upset about its condition and whatnot.
Upon returning to the party, Alex asked where we had been.
Me: I went to go show him my tainted baby, my hideously messed up car.
Apparently I spoke too loud or something, because everyone in the room became interested in the story.
Me: No, no, don't worry. I'm kind of a drama queen.
Alex: Yeah, you kind of are.
And THAT, my friends, is why I have more guy friends than girl friends (and ALL my female besties are truthful like that. It's the reason I have so few of them, they're more difficult to come across). So straight up. It cracked me up... just like this cleverness:
 |
| Many chicks would be offended/alarmed by this... Me? I'm game, bro. Makes me giggle like a maniac... must be the ever-present pre-teen in me. |
The straightforwardness came in handy when later in the night a very drunk girl swatted my Tequila-and-Squirt out of my hand and onto my right pant-leg and right shoe.
 |
| Reenacting the scene, once the puddle (and shoe) dried out a bit |
Poor chick apologized profusely... which was unnecessary, since that shit comes off... I just reeked of tequila the rest of the night-- nothing out of the ordinary for a Mexican at a party.
This little incident also helped me meet the love of my life:
 |
| WHY had no one told me about this shit? I'll even forgive the fact that it's French. Fuck you, France! |
Yes.
Please.
Forever.
1 comment:
Surprisingly, I do remember saying that, haha! It's not usually the case that I remember anything when I'm partying. Generally it's like, "Wait, what? I said what? I did what?" LOL! Good Times!
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