This Is How We Do It (AWK Edition)

I've been doing a lot of heavy drinking lately. This is the one downside to not really getting sick or that hungover, you never really learn your lesson. But then there are those moments that only came about because you were shwasty wasty-finding nemo-sleepovers-getting drunk-drunk that make it all worthwhile. (That was an inside joke that I don't think anyone who reads my blog will understand. But Katie and Bri, if you ever do, that one was for you!)

It's bad, but I'm kind of glad I've been doing the party thing so much lately. For the first time in three years (it's our anniversary today actually) I'm single-ish and feel independent. Charlie never wanted to go out, drink, or smoke and I spent so much of last year talking on the phone and missing him I barely left my dorm room. And it's not like going out to bars or going to/throwing dance parties is really doing something when you think of it in terms of all the wild opportunities New York City offers, but I'm in college for Christ's sake! And now I actually feel that way.

The New School is such a weird environment with no sense of community and so many people I mock and hate. It's bad, but going to parties reminds me of home and how college life there works. I mean, I do other things here too (went to a live radio show taping on Friday for instance), but the past few weeks the highlights have definitely been the trucked, whamied, and wasted ones. And I'm Ok with that.

Where else would you get the memory of my roommate and I balled up on the kitchen floor at 3 am in stiches after I yell out "I'm wearing all white!!!!...But it's ok! It's not after labor day!!!" (It was, in fact, the day before Labor Day). And then waking up the next morning to this:

In case you couldn't tell, that's a cookie sheet which had been used for nachos made with slices of American cheese (surprisingly delicious), a literal pot full of brownies, a stuffed animal rabbit who had been beaten so badly the night before his face had become even more squooshed, and a bunch of other mess that hadn't been there when we had left to go out. This picture really can't even capture the mess Kelly and I made of the apartment that night before passing out while watching Veronica Mars (we often make it a habit to leave parties a little early so we stay awake enough to watch an episode of a tv show).

And without these party adventures we never would have had these precious moments:
So let's just all raise our glasses (or full wine bottle) to another few crazy weeks and just hope that Kelly will never have to drag me home passed out ever again. Mazel tov!

They Really Will Never Let Go

I think it's very appropriate that the morning after the 90s party I threw last night I learn of this interesting piece of news.

Titanic (or Tightanic as Sarah and I like to call it) is going to be re-released in 3-D. I'm a little wary of this whole 3-D aspect, but frankly I don't really care that much. I'm just pumped to go see Titanic in theaters. It'll be like 1997 all over again and that, my friends, was a good year. That was the year I watched Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead about a thousand times and it was the year my dad flew from New Mexico to Illinois with a turtle in his shirt pocket.

Sidenote about last night's party: Kelly and I were really not looking forward to hosting the party because we're both lazy fucks and didn't want to have to deal with the disgusting cleanup but to our delight we woke up and the only real mess there was to clean up were tons of feathers and scrunchies. The streamers even made it through the night! I think that's a pretty good reflection of how awesome of a party we throw.

Not Another Gay Boyfriend

I have a problem with gay face. It needs to be dealt with. Or I should just admit defeat.

Weekend Highlights

So my sister visited over the weekend and it was pretty awesome. I'm too lazy/watching The OC at the moment to actually develop a well-written post about it so instead I'll give you a quick Best-of-line-up.

1. My dad asked to have some of my roommates snapper in exchange for his sausage
2. My dad said "I'm thinking about using The Craigslist"
4. Went to a Satanic themed birthday party
3. At the party Emi slapped someone after they grabbed her stomach (huge no-no, in case you didn't know)
4. Said someone then thought the appropriate response to someone slapping him was to kiss my roommate's neck and then my sister's
5. Emi walked down the street yelling about herself pooping
6. Emi told all my friends about how her boyfriend used to call me "period girl" when I started going through puberty
7. My Grandma turned 95 and my aunt and uncle wrote a horribly un-PC limmerick about her (they said she was a Jewish menace and insulted her tennis skills)
8. Emi woke up on the bathroom floor and hadn't been drunk the night before. She then learned that she had gone into my roommates room at 3 am. Then she realized she couldn't find her pants. We tear the apartment appart only to find them in the outdoor hallway at the top of the basement stairs, the door to which had been opened. We still don't know why this happened.

Oh, and they started selling my sister's comics at Desert Island here in Williamsburg. Hurray for her!

So if you just add about 30 PBR's and four bottles of wine that's my weekend in a nutshell.

I'm a Missed Connection!

Click the image to read it.

The Answer

Over the summer Charlie asked me the hardest question anyone can ask: Paul Rudd or Jason Segel? And today I've decided. I am officially in love and never going back. One day our day will come. This one's for you babycakes.
And I know that normally you're supposed to photoshop your face over the other girls but I love Kristen Bell too much.

Also, update on the last post: officially drugged.

Just One Of Those Days

Do you ever wake up and not only not understand what happened last night but also how it happened? Because this is one of those days.

Last night my roommmate and I had to work a fashion party for our internship. We were banished to the models room to be dressers. Pretty much we just took their clothes and handed them clothes. It was hell...at first. Everyone was so serious and intense about everything and Kelly and I really didn't give a fuck passed not sending naked girls into the party. Then after the first change was done the stylist had a cocktail waitress bring us all a glass of wine. Kelly and I sipped on these slowly during the time lapse between changes. Then after second change the waitress left a bottle on the table. We had three, maaaybe four more glasses of wine for the rest of our time upstairs. At one point during this our boss (who was supposed to be a dresser as well but cannot stand fashion so got out of the job due to 'allergies') came up. We could not stop giggling, and she offered us a drink of water (which we believe to have been vodka) but she couldn't tell we were drunk at all, just two girls having a giggle attack. Passed that test.

So then the fashion show ends and we find our boss. All the fashion interns had done our cleanup job and wanted none of our help. We were nubes so now that there wasn't a time crunch they would rather do it themselves. Most of those interns were megabitches who would do those sly put downs right to your face ("I really appreciate you guys trying to hang these clothes to the best of your ability"). Since they're doing our job we go and find our boss who says the bar is still open and to hang around for about fifteen minutes, get a 'soda', or whatnot. Kelly and I get another glass of wine. This is when we lose it.

Our boss comes over again and cheers us, she learns of our drunkeness, it's all good. We think she left the party after that, but maybe she just left us. We don't see any of our other bosses and the place is packed (Kelly Kupowski was there). Then the hairdresser (who is apparently not gay) sticks his tongue down Kelly's throat knowing how young she is. Majorly creepy. After that she just needed to get out of there. On the walk to the subway we realize that we are completely and utterly smashed. It was not even eleven yet. Neither of us really remember the ride home or even transfering trains. All I remember was being so amazed at our state doing the drunken self-proclamation "I'M SOO DRUNKKKK" on the train while people judge mercilessly, which they had a right to.

We then burst into our friends apartment and Kelly knocks three chairs off the wall first thing. We don't really know what happened there either. I remember our friends told us they'd never seen us that drunk before and last year I drank an entire bottle of wine and then started chugging tequila. But no, five glasses of wine and Kelly and I are roll-around-on-the-floor-blackout drunk. Exhibit A.
We somehow make it to our apartment and put on Arrested. We try to get our friend to come and make us mac and cheese through texts like "we xabt move." We then passed out before midnight. Kelly and I both woke up at seven (her in all of my clothes, with the shirt on backwards) and still a little drunk. We have no idea how that happened off of five glasses of wine. Maybe we're just so used to Two Buck Chuck that the good stuff took us off guard. Now we're confused, embarrased, and a little bit worried. But on the plus side, we have no hangovers.

Best NYC Museum

Fuck the Moma. Fuck the Met. And definitely fuck the Guggenheim. None of those even compare to the Troll Museum. A museum so elite and awesome that it is by appointment only. A museum with its own theme song. A museum of dreams.

It's Been 84 Years and I Can Still Smell the Fresh Bling

So I was just perusing facebook and came across a fan page for everyone's favorite necklace: The Heart of the Ocean. I told my roommate, excited about my new Internet find only to have my joy crushed with ignorance.

"What is the this? Heart of the what?"

Fool! So now I'll have to take her to the Titanic exhibit in New York (second time in the last six months, third time ever). I hope her guilt and her gratitude will maybe influence her to buy me said necklace as a thank you.

Also, it's just been a Titanic kind of day. In my Public Radio Culture class in addition to drawing a cat in pajamas I also drew a "I'll never let go, Jack-a-lope" cartoon.

RIP Jack Dawson, too young to die.