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The digital age is really doing something interesting to the way we define friendship.
Each time I log onto Facebook or Myspace and see a "friend request" I no longer get a feeling of joy - the emotion I once had with the thought that good friends I had lost touch with had once again found me. This has been caused by the ratio of pseudo-friends that keep "adding" me on these networks. I'm not sure what the exact percentage is, but I do know that among the couple hundred people I "know" on these sites I actually talk to a handful. Many, since "adding", have never even written me a word. So what is the point exactly?
Even more amusing, these faux-friends often expect some degree of bullshit when words are actually exchanged. Or at least this is highly comical to me considering anyone who has ever known me is privy to the fact that I'm blunt to the point of sometimes being named a bitch. I'm just not sorry that if you ask me what that last letter you wrote to me in high school said and I mention a line that reads, "I'll be having wet dreams about you tonight" - you get offended. You asked, you said it; it's funny, get over it. And if you were that upset over your own insecurities - delete me.
That's the great thing about all this isn't it? Not only can we keep tabs on "real life" friends, but now with our wonderful electronic boxes and inter-suck we can reach out to potential douches all over the place and then drop them like a stack of flap jacks whenever we so choose.
Don't get me wrong, I love my electro-box - but I honestly wonder how its fucking up the way we relate to each other.
A simple example, my best friend Todd - a grown ass man - texts like a teenager. It drives me absolutely insane. It's bad enough that he's known to make up words from time to time (like "scintillitize" - a version of scintillate... sort of) but when you ask me, "What r u doin' tn?" I want to strangle a mother fucker. And my reasons are justified in the fact that every time my nephew writes me a message on Myspace (yes, there's no escape) he writes like he's typing a text message - absolutely mind blowing. Well, to anyone that reads/writes at a level above primary school.
And now thanks to iPhones and all of that, it's all internet all the time!
I don't know what's going on overseas, but from what I can see here in the States I predict in ten years a good amount of our populus will not know how to function individually - or interpersonally. That is, without any electronic devices.
As for me, once I get this whole "big girl career" thing taken care of, I will be plugging my Garfield phone back in with an answering machine and calling it good. No Myspace, No Facebook - just an e-mail and the cat phone.
Until then I'm going to harass everyone until their eyes bleed and cries of mercy echo from the hillsides.
Each time I log onto Facebook or Myspace and see a "friend request" I no longer get a feeling of joy - the emotion I once had with the thought that good friends I had lost touch with had once again found me. This has been caused by the ratio of pseudo-friends that keep "adding" me on these networks. I'm not sure what the exact percentage is, but I do know that among the couple hundred people I "know" on these sites I actually talk to a handful. Many, since "adding", have never even written me a word. So what is the point exactly?
Even more amusing, these faux-friends often expect some degree of bullshit when words are actually exchanged. Or at least this is highly comical to me considering anyone who has ever known me is privy to the fact that I'm blunt to the point of sometimes being named a bitch. I'm just not sorry that if you ask me what that last letter you wrote to me in high school said and I mention a line that reads, "I'll be having wet dreams about you tonight" - you get offended. You asked, you said it; it's funny, get over it. And if you were that upset over your own insecurities - delete me.
That's the great thing about all this isn't it? Not only can we keep tabs on "real life" friends, but now with our wonderful electronic boxes and inter-suck we can reach out to potential douches all over the place and then drop them like a stack of flap jacks whenever we so choose.
Don't get me wrong, I love my electro-box - but I honestly wonder how its fucking up the way we relate to each other.
A simple example, my best friend Todd - a grown ass man - texts like a teenager. It drives me absolutely insane. It's bad enough that he's known to make up words from time to time (like "scintillitize" - a version of scintillate... sort of) but when you ask me, "What r u doin' tn?" I want to strangle a mother fucker. And my reasons are justified in the fact that every time my nephew writes me a message on Myspace (yes, there's no escape) he writes like he's typing a text message - absolutely mind blowing. Well, to anyone that reads/writes at a level above primary school.
And now thanks to iPhones and all of that, it's all internet all the time!
I don't know what's going on overseas, but from what I can see here in the States I predict in ten years a good amount of our populus will not know how to function individually - or interpersonally. That is, without any electronic devices.
As for me, once I get this whole "big girl career" thing taken care of, I will be plugging my Garfield phone back in with an answering machine and calling it good. No Myspace, No Facebook - just an e-mail and the cat phone.
Until then I'm going to harass everyone until their eyes bleed and cries of mercy echo from the hillsides.
A funny thing happened the other night. A group of friends and I went to our favorite bar to celebrate... well, just being able to go out and have fun really. As soon as we get there I see the bastard at the bar. I couldn't deal, so I went and found a table and sat down. Only Todd and I were there at that point so he was set with the task of getting beer. After about ten minutes he came back empty handed and said, "She won't serve me." I knew this was because it was busy as hell and the bartendress tends to wait on women but there was no way I was going to go up there and look the asshole in the eye. Thankfully, Sandra showed up soon after and she and Todd went back up for another attempt. A few minutes later they returned with a six pack of High Life and I was overjoyed. Within an hour, we were given a couple of buckets of ice, another six pack, more friends started showing up, and we were having a stellar time. Even better douchebag left.
However, about an hour later, the idiot came back. By this point the bar was clearing out, and we were all pretty hammered. I didn't care that he was there, it was just the fact that I knew this was his night to go to the bar next door - there was not reason for him to be at this particular establishment.
One of the other bartenders that I'm friendly with came over with a round of shots for us and I took one despite my general lack of tolerance for hard liquor. Of course, it was not long after that dancing ensued. The later the hour became the more people trickled out the door. By the end of the night when they were being shewed out - polesmoker, the girl (which I'm sure he took home) and the guy at his table were the very last to leave. A couple from my crew and I were permitted to stay and drink because that's how I fucking roll. We drank, we danced, we sang and were merry. It was a damn good night.
It makes me giggle on the inside to think that I would be so sad over such a small person.
It's amazing how sometimes we can reverse situations on ourselves to the point that we lose selfconfidence. I find a lot of times in interpersonal relations when someone begins acting shitty toward me, I begin thinking I'm at fault. It must be something I did, something I said; when in fact its generally just that the person really is a piece of shit.
Reminds me of a coach I had in grade school. Whenever we lost a game I'd get pissed off beyond all belief and she'd always come over, grab my shoulder and say, "Don't be so hard on yourself, __insert last name__. It's just a game." Preparatory words for life possibly? I believe so.
A couple of months back I "graduated" from therapy. My doctor sent me "out into the big scary world to live life" and I'm doing it. Strangely, in certain situations I still hear her voice and it makes me laugh. When I start to get down on myself about something stupid I here one of her last phrases to me, "And remember, you're smart, you're funny, and by golly - you're a good person!" She couldn't even say it without cracking up, and I couldn't get out of the door with a straight face.
There are a lot of women in my life that I think of when I need to be strong. From Frida Khalo to my overly butch soccer coach, I have quite a diverse arena to draw from.
So as much as I love the idea of complete solitude sometimes, I know that the only way to find my little knowledge nuggets is to get out there and fight the good fight. It comes with a lot of shit on the lawn of course, but damn it I am a good person. And maybe along the way someone will obtain a few pearls of wisdom from me - or as I referred to them the other night - "brain sperms". Either way, I'm thankful for the people that I've chosen to surround myself with - and the ones that have been kind enough to stick to me, despite my recent piss parade.
I do too.
But first...
I'm gonna club you like a kangaroo.
(Ahhahha. Ahahahahah.)
I love you guys.
However, about an hour later, the idiot came back. By this point the bar was clearing out, and we were all pretty hammered. I didn't care that he was there, it was just the fact that I knew this was his night to go to the bar next door - there was not reason for him to be at this particular establishment.
One of the other bartenders that I'm friendly with came over with a round of shots for us and I took one despite my general lack of tolerance for hard liquor. Of course, it was not long after that dancing ensued. The later the hour became the more people trickled out the door. By the end of the night when they were being shewed out - polesmoker, the girl (which I'm sure he took home) and the guy at his table were the very last to leave. A couple from my crew and I were permitted to stay and drink because that's how I fucking roll. We drank, we danced, we sang and were merry. It was a damn good night.
It makes me giggle on the inside to think that I would be so sad over such a small person.
It's amazing how sometimes we can reverse situations on ourselves to the point that we lose selfconfidence. I find a lot of times in interpersonal relations when someone begins acting shitty toward me, I begin thinking I'm at fault. It must be something I did, something I said; when in fact its generally just that the person really is a piece of shit.
Reminds me of a coach I had in grade school. Whenever we lost a game I'd get pissed off beyond all belief and she'd always come over, grab my shoulder and say, "Don't be so hard on yourself, __insert last name__. It's just a game." Preparatory words for life possibly? I believe so.
A couple of months back I "graduated" from therapy. My doctor sent me "out into the big scary world to live life" and I'm doing it. Strangely, in certain situations I still hear her voice and it makes me laugh. When I start to get down on myself about something stupid I here one of her last phrases to me, "And remember, you're smart, you're funny, and by golly - you're a good person!" She couldn't even say it without cracking up, and I couldn't get out of the door with a straight face.
There are a lot of women in my life that I think of when I need to be strong. From Frida Khalo to my overly butch soccer coach, I have quite a diverse arena to draw from.
So as much as I love the idea of complete solitude sometimes, I know that the only way to find my little knowledge nuggets is to get out there and fight the good fight. It comes with a lot of shit on the lawn of course, but damn it I am a good person. And maybe along the way someone will obtain a few pearls of wisdom from me - or as I referred to them the other night - "brain sperms". Either way, I'm thankful for the people that I've chosen to surround myself with - and the ones that have been kind enough to stick to me, despite my recent piss parade.
I do too.
But first...
I'm gonna club you like a kangaroo.
(Ahhahha. Ahahahahah.)
I love you guys.
I haven't been sleeping a lot lately. There are events that have induced this fact, but at the least it has given me time to reflect.
Recently, I was seeing someone. For a period I thought I was happy, that things were falling into place. A couple of weeks went by and I began to see myself becoming something that I wasn't, a person unfamiliar, an image in the mirror with vacant eyes and a forced smile.
I lost thoughts. I lost words. I lost the ability to reason of my own volition. Briefly, I lost myself.
For quite awhile I've been treading hard along a path with no boundaries, no structure at all. I've done so knowingly, waiting for a time when a clearing would come and things would right themselves as they always seem to at different points along the way.
Last night as I lay staring out the window of my room at the buzzing street light in front of my home it became clear that things weren't just going to "right themselves" this time. All of the causes of my woes could be fixed with effort. Not immediately, not easily, but with changes and effort there is a possibility one day I may find myself at greater ease again.
And then it occurred to me, things for me have never magically become better. I've never believed in luck because life has always bent me over and fucked me as hard as it could find a way to penetrate. That has made me strong - it's given me the ability to get up on mornings like this one and decide to do something amazing with my life instead of moping around and waiting for something to come about.
I'll be hermitting if you need me.
Recently, I was seeing someone. For a period I thought I was happy, that things were falling into place. A couple of weeks went by and I began to see myself becoming something that I wasn't, a person unfamiliar, an image in the mirror with vacant eyes and a forced smile.
I lost thoughts. I lost words. I lost the ability to reason of my own volition. Briefly, I lost myself.
For quite awhile I've been treading hard along a path with no boundaries, no structure at all. I've done so knowingly, waiting for a time when a clearing would come and things would right themselves as they always seem to at different points along the way.
Last night as I lay staring out the window of my room at the buzzing street light in front of my home it became clear that things weren't just going to "right themselves" this time. All of the causes of my woes could be fixed with effort. Not immediately, not easily, but with changes and effort there is a possibility one day I may find myself at greater ease again.
And then it occurred to me, things for me have never magically become better. I've never believed in luck because life has always bent me over and fucked me as hard as it could find a way to penetrate. That has made me strong - it's given me the ability to get up on mornings like this one and decide to do something amazing with my life instead of moping around and waiting for something to come about.
I'll be hermitting if you need me.
The VW has been in the shop for a week. They ordered a windshield wiper motor and two window motors on Friday so I should see my car back by the end of the year I'm guessing. I've been driving my dad's work truck around - this old heap of Chevy. I asked him why it seemed like the needle on the gas gauge was going down whenever I accelerated and he said, "Well, its mileage isn't that bad. It gets about 15/gallon." Yes - FIFTEEN miles per gallon. It's at least ten miles for me to drive to work each day; and then the drive back. If I need to do anything at all I have to incorporate it into either going to or from work because I can't afford to make any trips beyond that.
So I ordered
the Schwinn Windwood so I can pedal my ass to at least some of the places around the neighborhood: grocery store, movie rental shop, liquor/smoke shop, Taco Bell (yummy). I live on the slummy side of the city where there isn't anything exciting so I'm sort of limited as to where I can go. Even worse, we barely have sidewalks over here and definitely not any bike paths so I might die. But... I'll look cute when I do. Coaster brakes!!!
Anyone want to start a bicycle gang? It would be tough. Especially if we had these.
So I ordered
the Schwinn Windwood so I can pedal my ass to at least some of the places around the neighborhood: grocery store, movie rental shop, liquor/smoke shop, Taco Bell (yummy). I live on the slummy side of the city where there isn't anything exciting so I'm sort of limited as to where I can go. Even worse, we barely have sidewalks over here and definitely not any bike paths so I might die. But... I'll look cute when I do. Coaster brakes!!!
Anyone want to start a bicycle gang? It would be tough. Especially if we had these.
The Volkswagen is back at the mechanic. Who would have guessed?! Yeah, I love it. Actually, in some fucked up way I do love my car. Well, I say that now; come tomorrow I could find out I need a new engine. *knock on plywood desk* The windshield wipers went out the other day. It was a nice time for them to decide to do so as we've been getting hit with non-stop rain storms since then. Nothing like driving around with your head out the window getting pelted with rain droplets in the eyes. Last night the only thing that got me home was a roll of paper towels I stole from a friends house and used to wipe the mist off of the beast before going on my merry way - classic. Oh, and the two passenger windows still don't work, the air circulation button went out, and it started stalling out again yesterday. I just went to my guy with a list. He laughed at me, but in one of those ways like, "This sucks and I'm sorry." I laughed too. What else can you do?
I did sell the PT. That is the good news at least. Now I have money to fix my pile of VW. Also maybe get my furnace and a/c fixed. That would also be very peachy.
I just got all of my Holga stuff back. Here's a few:
Samson
And the fisheye:
Tyreese
Roxy
Samson - lookin' menacing
Now I'm going to try this physics homework out. I'm hoping it's not as horrible as biology. If only I could just make chickenbabies...
I did sell the PT. That is the good news at least. Now I have money to fix my pile of VW. Also maybe get my furnace and a/c fixed. That would also be very peachy.
I just got all of my Holga stuff back. Here's a few:
Samson
And the fisheye:
Tyreese
Roxy
Samson - lookin' menacing
Now I'm going to try this physics homework out. I'm hoping it's not as horrible as biology. If only I could just make chickenbabies...
Today:
- A gutter fell off of my house, but my pops put it back on. (And I made fun of his belly hanging out of his shirt while he did it - ha!)
- My fish, "fish fish," died.
- I bought a replacement betta that has yet to be named.
- The windshield wipers on the VW quit working. I checked the fuses and found one that was blown but it turned out that one just fixed the turn signal that I thought I was going to have to replace a bulb on. Yay not having to replace a bulb. Boo probably having to replace something insanely expensive. (I'll just add it to the list.)
- Someone came from out of state to look at the PT this evening and said they're going to buy it. I really, really, really, REALLY hope this works out. The Volkswagen - it has needs. Very costly fucking needs.
- I found a turtle in the driveway when I came home from buying stamps. I picked him up with a shovel - didn't know if he was a snapper and I didn't really want to find out - and put him in my back yard. I'm hoping him and flops-a-lot (the bunny) will become friends and kick it old school.
What is everyone doing for the weekend?
- A gutter fell off of my house, but my pops put it back on. (And I made fun of his belly hanging out of his shirt while he did it - ha!)
- My fish, "fish fish," died.
- I bought a replacement betta that has yet to be named.
- The windshield wipers on the VW quit working. I checked the fuses and found one that was blown but it turned out that one just fixed the turn signal that I thought I was going to have to replace a bulb on. Yay not having to replace a bulb. Boo probably having to replace something insanely expensive. (I'll just add it to the list.)
- Someone came from out of state to look at the PT this evening and said they're going to buy it. I really, really, really, REALLY hope this works out. The Volkswagen - it has needs. Very costly fucking needs.
- I found a turtle in the driveway when I came home from buying stamps. I picked him up with a shovel - didn't know if he was a snapper and I didn't really want to find out - and put him in my back yard. I'm hoping him and flops-a-lot (the bunny) will become friends and kick it old school.
What is everyone doing for the weekend?
This may be my greatest accomplishment as an artist thus far:
The Bear Burger - when a vegetarian has to cook your BBQ you will shut up and eat what you're given, even if it's disturbingly cute.
Viva summer!
The Bear Burger - when a vegetarian has to cook your BBQ you will shut up and eat what you're given, even if it's disturbingly cute.
Viva summer!
I've noticed that I'm becoming a sort of default alcoholic. I've had problems with the substance in the past so it's always easy to take the low road and slip back to my heathen ways. Why deal with reality when there's a simple solution right there at the drive-through liquor store? And how convenient is that?! You don't even have to get out of your car to booze up!
It's easy to have that sort of mentality and lately I've been tinkering with it. Though, instead of running with the theme of "avoidance" I've been using the excuse of "socialization". I know I hate everyone, that I'm a hermit, and I'm getting older and feel it's only getting worse with time; so I thought I'd slowly take steps to try and turn this around. However, in this region the only thing to do is go to church or hit up the bars; maybe both in the same day depending on your denomination. With my not so glorious past there is no way I can sit in an alcohol slinging establishment and not have a drink. ...or eight. I suppose I can't blame the beer entirely, it's not like we have delicious breweries here like back home, moreso getting through the entire bar experience I'm sure. A yokel over here, a yokel over there - here a yokel, there a yokel, everywhere a yokel yokel.
I went to a guy's house last night after the bar to smoke a J and when I came out of the restroom he and my friend were in some conversation about interracial dating - and why it is disgusting. I had a mini-shit-fit before he butted in with, "at least I didn't say 'nigger'," at which point I just starred at him with hatred until he said he was an idiot and apologized.
I fucking hate people so hard.
And this brings me to another point, the more I move it seems like the worse friendships I acquire. I have a few friends back home that I absolutely adore. Here? It's fucking questionable. The instance above for example, that was MY friend involved in that conversation - how terrible do I feel about that. I want to like the people I know here for their good qualities, but why should I have to pick and choose? Why should I feel the need to get inebriated just to bring myself down to the same level?
Staying home with the cats and lurking around the house seems pathetic to me but on the other side the cats never say stupid shit that makes me want to rip their faces off and my house is pretty peaceful. Hmmmm...
I went out and took some lo-mo photos the other day. (Photography always cheers me up.) Here are some digital test shots:
Oh yeah, and I'm quitting smoking for good, for serious, starting today. Long story short I've been having really horrible chest pains and last night I woke up at some ungodly hour and couldn't breathe even after hitting up my asthma inhaler. Fuck it, I don't want to die. Just thought I'd give fair warning that I'm going to be more of a ranting raving biatch than usual I imagine - tough titties.
It's easy to have that sort of mentality and lately I've been tinkering with it. Though, instead of running with the theme of "avoidance" I've been using the excuse of "socialization". I know I hate everyone, that I'm a hermit, and I'm getting older and feel it's only getting worse with time; so I thought I'd slowly take steps to try and turn this around. However, in this region the only thing to do is go to church or hit up the bars; maybe both in the same day depending on your denomination. With my not so glorious past there is no way I can sit in an alcohol slinging establishment and not have a drink. ...or eight. I suppose I can't blame the beer entirely, it's not like we have delicious breweries here like back home, moreso getting through the entire bar experience I'm sure. A yokel over here, a yokel over there - here a yokel, there a yokel, everywhere a yokel yokel.
I went to a guy's house last night after the bar to smoke a J and when I came out of the restroom he and my friend were in some conversation about interracial dating - and why it is disgusting. I had a mini-shit-fit before he butted in with, "at least I didn't say 'nigger'," at which point I just starred at him with hatred until he said he was an idiot and apologized.
I fucking hate people so hard.
And this brings me to another point, the more I move it seems like the worse friendships I acquire. I have a few friends back home that I absolutely adore. Here? It's fucking questionable. The instance above for example, that was MY friend involved in that conversation - how terrible do I feel about that. I want to like the people I know here for their good qualities, but why should I have to pick and choose? Why should I feel the need to get inebriated just to bring myself down to the same level?
Staying home with the cats and lurking around the house seems pathetic to me but on the other side the cats never say stupid shit that makes me want to rip their faces off and my house is pretty peaceful. Hmmmm...
I went out and took some lo-mo photos the other day. (Photography always cheers me up.) Here are some digital test shots:
Oh yeah, and I'm quitting smoking for good, for serious, starting today. Long story short I've been having really horrible chest pains and last night I woke up at some ungodly hour and couldn't breathe even after hitting up my asthma inhaler. Fuck it, I don't want to die. Just thought I'd give fair warning that I'm going to be more of a ranting raving biatch than usual I imagine - tough titties.
Since when did Memorial Day turn into Mardi Gras?
One of my friends asked me to her family cabin in the Ozarks this weekend. We went down yesterday morning and pretty immediately got ready to go down to the river. I've never been "floating," the idea actually disgusts me, but I figured that since I've been here four years now I might as well accept the fact I'm culturally fucked and join in the yokel festivities. I was a little self-conscience at first, I haven't worn a bikini in a couple of years now and being force-fed ultra-skinny bitches by the media everyday I was expecting to end up getting hammered just to deal. As we were driving down I was in awe - it was so stereotypical Americana that I almost died. Lard ass white trash mother fuckers waving confederate flags, honking their car horns trying to holler at us while we drove by, and practically pouring beer all over themselves; I couldn't believe I was actually there seeing it. But hell, at least I didn't have to worry about feeling chubby.
We took about fifty beers, two packs of cigarettes, three liters of water, two cans of Pringles, a pack of sunflower seeds, various sun screens and oils, and some towels between the two canoes and the four of us. The fun part about this was that we were so well prepared we managed to barter with all sorts of people all the way down the river. Whitney scored some Mountain Dew off of a couple of teenagers that wanted a can of beer. I got a bubble wand for two beers and a cigarette. Somewhere along the way (after about ten drinks had been consumed on my part) I tipped the canoe slightly while trying to get in and wrecked my smokes, as well as lacerated my shin, and caused my rowing partner to lose his sunglasses. (Oopsies.) Thank god for bartering because I need my damn cigarettes - a half can of Pringles and I was back in business for the rest of the trip. I also was kind enough to give up my liter of water to some girl that was just lying over the side of her raft, throwing up consistently for ten minutes. It was like the Exorcist, but a really pretty girl; way too icky.
Also along the river were all kinds of men with beads trying to get ladies to whip out their ta-ta's - hence the Mardi Gras reference. There was this chick with them just walking around without a top at all, being absolutely drunk and disorderly as could be. I somehow got pulled into a conversation with her later; all I remember is her telling me that when she got "the shocker" she preferred "two in the ass and one in the vag." Quite a respectable lady that one was. Then again, my friend and I were the ones yelling, "Show us your balls!!!" by the middle of the day. But what the hell, breasts are old hat, and I wanted to see if there was anyone drunk enough to whip out their boys. And yes - yes there was, teehee.
All in all a good time was had I'd say. I have bruises all over the place, a wicked sunburn, and a hangover to match. Oh yeah, and I broke the year long chastity streak. There was a memorial said somewhere during that event though... you know, in honor of... What the hell is this holiday for again?
One of my friends asked me to her family cabin in the Ozarks this weekend. We went down yesterday morning and pretty immediately got ready to go down to the river. I've never been "floating," the idea actually disgusts me, but I figured that since I've been here four years now I might as well accept the fact I'm culturally fucked and join in the yokel festivities. I was a little self-conscience at first, I haven't worn a bikini in a couple of years now and being force-fed ultra-skinny bitches by the media everyday I was expecting to end up getting hammered just to deal. As we were driving down I was in awe - it was so stereotypical Americana that I almost died. Lard ass white trash mother fuckers waving confederate flags, honking their car horns trying to holler at us while we drove by, and practically pouring beer all over themselves; I couldn't believe I was actually there seeing it. But hell, at least I didn't have to worry about feeling chubby.
We took about fifty beers, two packs of cigarettes, three liters of water, two cans of Pringles, a pack of sunflower seeds, various sun screens and oils, and some towels between the two canoes and the four of us. The fun part about this was that we were so well prepared we managed to barter with all sorts of people all the way down the river. Whitney scored some Mountain Dew off of a couple of teenagers that wanted a can of beer. I got a bubble wand for two beers and a cigarette. Somewhere along the way (after about ten drinks had been consumed on my part) I tipped the canoe slightly while trying to get in and wrecked my smokes, as well as lacerated my shin, and caused my rowing partner to lose his sunglasses. (Oopsies.) Thank god for bartering because I need my damn cigarettes - a half can of Pringles and I was back in business for the rest of the trip. I also was kind enough to give up my liter of water to some girl that was just lying over the side of her raft, throwing up consistently for ten minutes. It was like the Exorcist, but a really pretty girl; way too icky.
Also along the river were all kinds of men with beads trying to get ladies to whip out their ta-ta's - hence the Mardi Gras reference. There was this chick with them just walking around without a top at all, being absolutely drunk and disorderly as could be. I somehow got pulled into a conversation with her later; all I remember is her telling me that when she got "the shocker" she preferred "two in the ass and one in the vag." Quite a respectable lady that one was. Then again, my friend and I were the ones yelling, "Show us your balls!!!" by the middle of the day. But what the hell, breasts are old hat, and I wanted to see if there was anyone drunk enough to whip out their boys. And yes - yes there was, teehee.
All in all a good time was had I'd say. I have bruises all over the place, a wicked sunburn, and a hangover to match. Oh yeah, and I broke the year long chastity streak. There was a memorial said somewhere during that event though... you know, in honor of... What the hell is this holiday for again?
