the very first drunk post ever

This weekend was so fun!!!! Granted, it's 11:49 on Saturday night, and I'm home for the night and blogging, but still, so much fun!!!

GIFT-GIVING HOTTIE LITTLE BRAZILLIANS

So I made friends with this girl in the Barbri class, Cynthia, and she and her sister, Natalie, came out on Wednesday for the We-Just-Finished-the-Bar celebration. They're from Brazil, so of course they're hottie little chicks, and they're both really petite so I look like a fucking giant next to them, but I don't care because they're both so cute and fun. So we talked about going on Friday night, but I thought maybe it was just drunk talk, but sure enough Friday they messaged me and were like "let's go out!!!" So I was like "definitely!" and I caught a cab and met them down in Georgetown. I tried to get my friend Angie to come along be she was all "I'm so not trying to go down to Georgetown to hang out with two little hot Brazillian chicks." I feel her though because George town is so not my scene. I had been there a few times when I came up here for school stuff (will revisit below), and I always felt like I'd never fit in because I don't own a single J-Crew sweater. So when I got there, why did Cynthia turn around and be like "I have a present for you for passing the bar" and hand me some beautiful handmade earrings from Brazil??? A girl after my own heart!!! Except I felt like a total shitbag because I didn't have anything for her so I was like "Want a beer???" Then every time Natalie pointed out a boy who she thought was cute, I'd walk up to him and be like "Hi. Have you met my friend Natalie? She's from Brazil." My gift to her. I'm a little bent out of shape, though, because they're both leaving for Germany tomorrow for like a month. I can't wait for them to come back so we can tear it up again.

HOTPANTS BARTENDER

So the reason why we met up in G-town was because I was telling Cynthia about how I've been trying to get down there since I moved up here because there's this bartender there that I met when I came up in February for moot court thing who kept calling me "hotpants." So she was all "Let's go to his bar!" So we went and he was there and he remembered me and was excited to see me and kept hooking us up with all sorts of free shots (including Irish whiskey which promptly went through my nose which was quite embarassing) and then I noticed the silver band around his left ring finger. Apparently there has been a wedding since February. Oh well. We still had a lot of fun and got free shots and I got to call him "hotpants."

SEX IN THE CITY

Just joking!!!! There's defintely no sex in my city right now! But I do have to say, since I've abandoned having a car and have become a hippy, I have to take a cab everywhere. And it makes me feel so like Carrie Bradshaw, which reminds me of just how unrealistic that goddamn show is because cabs are fucking EXPENSIVE and there's no way that her broke ass would be able to afford always taking a cab.

WHERE THE ONLY DEBAUCHERY IS WITH THE FOOD

Tonight I took a cab down to Dupont to meet the DH and some of his friends for dinner. We went to this place called Lorial Plaza, this Mexican joint that D and I went to for brunch last February. I swear to God, it's like a club in there, except instead of dancing there are burritos. It was PACKED with like a 120 minute wait at 10 p.m. and everybody was dressed like they really were at a club. But it was soooo fun!!!! I got drunk off of frozen margarhitas (yes, that's right, i said i got drunk off of frozen margarhitas) and ate about two gallons of salsa and three pounds of chips. Plus, seeing the DH always gets me in a fantasic fucking mood because we're such lovers, even though he has a boyfriend.

I MISS JANE!!!!

And so does Dougie. Jane (my roommate, in case you didn't know) is in Costa Rica. We're very lonley around here. And in Dougie's case, a little depressed too.

AND FINALLY, A LITTLE PICK-UP ADVICE FOR THE LADIES

Spill your entire beer on his lap. They love it and apparently, it's a sure-fire way to get them to call you the next day.

i survived the hangover...LET'S CELEBRATE!

One thing I loved about law school, there was always cause for celebration. And by celebration, I mean getting together and drinking inordinate amounts of alcohol. It's the beginning of the semester...LET'S CELEBRATE!!!! We'll all go downtown and hit up three or four bars and call it a "social!" It's the middle of the semester...LET'S CELEBRATE!!! We'll all get really dressed up and go somewhere from where we'll surely be banned in the future and call it "law prom!" We have new moot court team members...LET'S CELEBRATE!!! We'll all go to the dean's house where he'll have a beer and wine open bar and call it a "cocktail party!" It's football season...LET'S CELEBRATE!!! We'll all go in the morning and park a car down on campus and sit in a chair outside the car and drink til the game starts at 7 p.m.!

Even though school's over for me now, last night I definitely had the biggest celebration of all - I finished taking the bar...LET'S CELEBRATE!!! I got really, really drunk. I even had the nerve to do a shot of SoCo. Like, HELLO?!?!? Who the fuck did I think I was??? It certainly bit me on the ass at the end of the night, when I was totally trying to kick it to a beefy brown eyed man at the bar and totally spilled my entire beer all over his lap. It was sexy. And then there was the pounding headache and wooziness this morning, too.

I went to this bar with a group that I had met in the Barbri night class. I like them all a lot, and we had a good time discussing legal terms that we'll never have to think about ever again. (Me: "Like res. I HATE that word." Jennifer: "Oh, I LOVE res!") Then Julia Gulia came out for a little bit, and that's always a joy. But it just didn't feel right. I couldn't help but feel like I should have been down in Florida, sitting around with everybody from my class, talking about how Little did us a huge favor teaching us the contribution statute because did you see that essay question? I mean, up until this point, I had shared every significant moment in my young legal career with the same 200 people. And here, this might be the biggest besides graduation, and none of those 200 people were involved. Something about it wasn't right.

But, then again, as my DC bar friend Matt reminded me yesterday, there comes a time where you have to spread your wings. So, spread I shall.

on the road again

Goddamn I'm out of shape.

I used to run alot. Like four miles a day, without stopping for a little walk or anything. I'd just get on the treadmill, put my music on and run run run. I loved it. It was such a stress reducer and I'd feel all good about myself when I got off, all sweaty and red and out of breath and shit but feeling like a strong-ass bitch. My ass got all tight and my legs were in the best shape EVER. Then I don't know what happened.

Perhaps it was the stair mill incident, the first time I ever tried the stair mill. I put that shit on 5 and HIT IT...for about five minutes. Next thing I knew, the room started spinning and I felt like I was going to puke or pass out...in the middle of SW Rec (my Gator girls will appreciate how embarassing that would have been). I didn't know that 5 was a high level on the stair mill spectrum of difficulty.

Or perhpas I just traded in the treadmill for the booze my last semester of law school. I just don't know.

Anyway, lately my iPod has been have a different effect on me. Instead of wanting to break it down like the chicks in the Vivrant Thang video in the middle of the metro, I want to RUN. I don't know what it is. The extra stress with the bar coming up or the fact that I no longer make my daily walk to the metro or what. So today I decided to do it. I planned to run the 10 or so blocks up to Pennsylvania Ave and back, which would have been no sweat 10 months ago.

Yeah...so not gonna happen. I made it about four and had to stop to walk. Then I ran another two, had to walk one, run one, walk two, run two, walk one. Moreover, my runner girl exercise clothes apparently no longer fit me very well, as I had to keep pulling down my top which was riding up and exposing my belly. I mean, even though I fit right in on H Street, it was still making me uncomfortable.

Gonna hit it again tomorrow. I am now DETERMINED to make it up to Penn and back without stopping to walk. In the meantime, I need a cig.

AND...I miss my Florida friends...terribly...

have you ever met a talking walrus? because i have.

Last night I had a dream that I was friends with a talking walrus. Not even just a walrus who talked, a walrus who talked and was a really good girlfriend. She had a really great sense of humor and was one of those girlfriends who was a lot of fun to go out with, kinda like Julia or the Silly Bitches. The only thing that was kind of annoying about her was that she would always want to point out my nose and my cheeks because they taught her that at Sea World.

Damn, dude. Sometimes I wonder what the fuck is going on in my head.

bedtime stories

Yesterday, after a month and a half of sleeping on a deflated air mattress on the floor, I finally purchased a bed. A big beautiful queen sized one with a soft pink comforter. I had been sleeping on the deflated air mattress because when I left Gainesville, I also left behind the most uncomfortable futon that ever hit the face of the planet. I bought it from my college roommate because my apartment in law school was more of a studio and my living room, bed room, and guest room was one room. Therefore, a futon instead of a bed seemed natural. The mattress on that piece of shit must have weighed 150 pounds and felt like nothing more than a slab of concreted under my ass. Moreover, on the evening of the infamous Levin High Barrister's Ball of 2005, I tried to step over Missmo in order to get to the other side of her as she lied in it. I stepped on foot on it and the thing snapped in half. So then from April 2005 to May 2006, I was sleeping in a futon with a slab of cement for a mattress and which caved in the middle. When I moved, I donated it to the homeless shelter and actually feel a little guilty about it.

So when I got up to the beautiful District of Columbia, I had no bed. I figured that my sugarmama Sallie Mae was gonna send me some money with a quickness so I just borrowed Missmo's air mattress. I slept on it inflated one night and woke up with a kink in my neck which required me to twist my whole body in the direction in which I needed to look. It was much better deflated, except that at that time, Dougie decided that his soft, cushiony dog bed wasn't good enough for him and he was going to comadeer the deflated mattress. This meant that I had to add brushing the dog hair off the deflated mattress to my nightime routine, which also meant that no matter how hard I tried, I'd still be sleeping in dog hair.

Ol Sallie Mae finally came through last week, and yesterday Jane and I ventured to what might be the biggest IKEA store in the world and purchased my big beautiful queen sized bed with the soft pink comforter. I was kind of putting off because my car died last week and I have this other thing called the bar exam coming up and I couldn't really handle any other big events, but the embarassment of having my house guest on Friday night sleep on the floor in a pile of dog hair and a shirt for a pillowcase forced me to do something about my situation on Saturday morning. And now I'm glad. Because now I have a big beautiful queen sized bed with a soft pink comforter. Every time I walk in my room, it beckons me. It says "Hey...look at me. Look at my big, comfortable horizontal surface. Look at my pretty, pink, soft comforter. You wanna lie on me, don't you? Go ahead. Do it." Napping has never been better, and studying Torts has never been more neglected.