Bermuda, Bahama. Come On, Pretty Mama

Meant to post this on Friday but I got busy wrapping things up at work and never got around to it.

I'll be MIA this week because I'm cruising to Bermuda. Never been on a cruise, or to Bermuda for that matter, so I'm pretty stoked.

It's been fun so far (minus a little motion sickness), but gotta love being on a boat with a casino, pool and LOADS of alcohol - even if they make you hand over your first born as payment.

Full recap of the week's events when I return next Monday. I'm off to work on my tan and my alcohol tolerance...

Later, Bias!

You Know It's a Good Night When Miss Procras. Passes Out

I'm not a mean drunk. Or a dramatic lush. I'm actually the exact opposite.

I become extremely relaxed and somber after I've had a few. (Unless Britney is playing, then my ass is prancing around like a hooker on crack.)

But once I hit the point of no return, I have a habit of passing out in inappropriate places. Actual examples:

-Underneath a table at a bar on New Years Eve.
-On the ledge of a stage (please note: a band was performing while I was zonked out. I'm sure I did wonders for their confidence.)
-On a picnic table in the middle of a vineyard surrounded by families enjoying their lunch (as they watched me puke up mine.)
-A bathroom stall in a frat house...while still sitting on the toilet.

Thankfully, I have friends/babysitters who keep me from drowning, getting thrown out of bars, arrested, etc. Lo keeps joking that she's going to get me a leash or a tracking device for when we go out.

My most shining moment as of late? The quarter-century birthday extravaganza.

I meant to post a recap sooner, but we all now punctuality isn't my thing, so better late than never. :)

Needless to say, it was a succesful night. Good friends, good food, good tunes and most importantly, my wine glass was never empty.

After killing a bottle of pinot with SayJo and pounding the large juice-box shaped container of wine Biggie Smalls brought me, I was good to go. And quite appalled when the concert was over and the attendants began kicking people out of the venue.

I demanded, I mean, politely suggested, that we continue drinking at my apartment. I just wasn't ready for the party to stop.

Fast forward ten mintues later. Badass Roomie graciously served as our DD. I decided I needed to repay her by helping her drive. And by helping her drive I mean impending her ability to shift gears.

Then, I got a little frisky and tried to get fresh with her.

At least there was no passing out on stage next to Huey or in the bathroom. Maybe it's a sign I'm improving with age...or getting progressively lame. Hopefully it's not the latter.

TMI Thursday: No Love without the Glove

I haven’t done a TMI in a while. Not that Monday’s posting wasn’t a bit of a TMI, but I felt inclined to do another one, after being inspired by the hilarious LiLu. A la Wayne Campbell: "I'm not worthy, I'm not worthy." That girl has some kick-ass TMI Thursday posts.

Anyway, this is more of a TMI for The Hoff than me. I apologize in advance, Hoffster.

I’m always amused to discover where boys stash their condoms. It’s like a treasure hunt when they have to go get one. The nightstand is always a popular choice, or the bureau, and of course the wallet for those unexpected rendezvous (but boys, beware-the wallet is not a safe haven for the Troj’s.)

Wherever the location, it tends to be easily accessible - you don’t want to interrupt the mood too much.

Unless you’re The Hoff.

The first few times we hooked up, The Hoff would have to get up, walk across his bedroom to the closet, reach on the top shelf and shuffle through a seemingly innocent-looking shoebox.

In the time it takes for the mood to almost completely fade and be replaced with this awkward, we-don’t-know-each-other-super-well-yet-but-we’re-about-to-do-it undertone, he’d triumphantly hold up the wrapper. I’m sure he also wanted to shout: “Arghh, matey, I found the booty!” (No pun intended).

I couldn’t help but laugh (discreetly) every time this scenario played out.

The Hoff must have either caught on or gotten fed up with the location because one night, I was surprised/freaked out when he rolled his bed away from the wall (yes, his bed has wheels on it…definitely keeps things interesting), and unveiled a new hiding place. Very inconspicuous: under the bed, up against the wall. And no more five-minute searches involved. Clever one, that Hoff.

Being the typical girl I am, I couldn’t help but share this info with my girlfriends and Just Jack.

Fast forward a few weeks later. Just Jack is with me at The Hoff’s for the first time, and The Hoff is giving him a tour. We reach The Hoff’s room and Just Jack immediately walks to the closet, points and says, “So, they used to be here, and now they’re here (while pointing to the wall).”

Just Jack and I thought this was the most hilarious thing ever, but I think The Hoff was slightly embarrassed. I think he’s still getting used to the fact that us girls share EVERYTHING with our girlfriends and gay best friends. Just a fact of life.

When "Did You Nail Him/Her?" Takes On a Whole New Meaning

Over the weekend, Badass Roomie and I visited Lo so we could celebrate her 25^th birthday. On Saturday morning, we (and by ‘we’ I mean Lo and I both shrieked with excitement when we saw that “Clueless” was on TBS. What a perfect way to start the day!

(And my apologies, I think this is the third time I’ve referenced “Clueless” in my blog, but it’s my favorite movie in the whole wide world so you will more than likely see it referenced another 50,000 times.)

Anywho, we’re watching the part when Tai, Cher and Dee skip school to have a “calorie fest” at the mall and cheer up Tai, who’s just been dissed by Elton. They see a hunky waiter walk by, who is way too good looking to be a waiter, but that’s beside the point.

Dee: Survey says?

Tai: Do-able

Dee: Puny, I like ‘em big

Cher: Eww, I hate muscles.

Tai: You know, I don’t really care either way. ::holds up bent, limp looking breadstick:: Uh, as long as his you-know-what isn’t crooked. I really hate that.

Cher: What?

Dee: Shhh! Don’t scare her. Cher is saving herself for Luke Perry.

Tai: Cher, you’re a virgin?!

At which point, being the dear friends they are, Badass Roomie and Lo bring up my nail story. We all have a good laugh, and then I realize I’ve neglected to share this little gem with the blogging community. And this is just too good not to share.

I was quite the little church girl back in my day. Went every Sunday, attended youth group, spent a week every summer at church camp, sang in the choir, etc. So angelic and innocent…hard to believe, I know.

While I was in high school, my church organized this group called ‘Just Wait’ which promoted-you guessed it-abstinence until marriage. It was comprised of roughly 20 high school students who went around to churches and schools in the area and did various skits urging kids to wait until they were married to do the deed.

I did not partake in this group. Not only do I have incredible stage fright, but the thought of telling hundreds of kids to keep it in their pants did not appeal to me. At all.

But when this group did their little song and dance at a church, they would ask anyone who wanted to make a pledge of celibacy until marriage to come forward at the end of the program and grab a nail off a cross.

Being the sweet little church girl I was at 15 (read: my mom was sitting two rows behind me and I was scared not to take one), I collected a nail at the end of the program, vowing to keep my flower until my wedding night.

And to remind myself of this promise, I decided to carry the nail around in my leopard print wallet.

Needless to say, it served as the butt of a lot jokes from my guy friends.

My favorite: “So, Miss Procras., when you finally have sex, are you gonna carry around a screw?”

High school boys=comic geniuses.

Sadly, the zipper on my wallet broke and the nail was lost. Not long after that, so was my V-card.

Coincidence? I think not.

God was trying to tell me he was cool with it, I just know it.

I think my solemn virginity vow lasted a total of eight months, but I can’t exactly remember. I’ll save the story of how my V-card was lost for another day. I think I’ve divulged enough for one post.

Oh, and don’t worry; there are no nails, screws, nuts, bolts or other hardware (wow…why are all those things laden with such sexual innuendo?) being carried around in my wallet any longer.

Even Toolbags Need Love

A ‘friend’ of mine got engaged over the weekend.

I say ‘friend’ because I wouldn’t consider Toolboy an actual friend. Here’s why:

-In college, Toolboy was having a get-together at his apartment and ran out of beer. So, my roommates and I graciously volunteered our stash of Natty Lites to keep the party going. Toolboy accompanied me back to my apartment to gather said beer. Only he didn’t just grab the Natty Lites, he also took the ONE Corona we had in the fridge. When I saw the Corona bottle shoved in his front pocket, I said, “Oh, that Corona is actually my roommate’s, don’t take that over – she’ll be pissed.” Toolboy claimed that he had brought it over from his place. I believed him – I mean, who would lie about ONE Corona? But the next day, my roommate couldn’t find her Corona and I immediately realized that Toolboy was a stealing, lying creep. When Lo found out, she goes, “honestly, who steals AH corona?!” To this day, it’s an ongoing joke between us and our roommate/bff Queen.

-Now that I think about it, Toolboy is a bit of a klepto. He also stole Lo’s bottle of 99 Berries and frozen Totino’s pizza from a pregame we had at our apartment not long after the Corona incident. Jerk. Doesn’t he know that alcohol/drunk food funds are scarce enough during college?!

-He finds the need to throw in his political beliefs into any conversation, facebook status/posting he can. Extremely annoying.

-He showed up to my 23rd birthday dinner without RSVPing, invited his girlfriend at the time, and then had the nerve to bash the people who came without letting me know beforehand. (Kinda reminds me of “Clueless” when she’s like, “But people came that, like, did not RSVP, so I was like, totally buggin’.” God, that movie is a classic.)

-He and his serious girlfriend broke up the end of last summer. He called/imed/texted me for days, about how upset he was and how he needed a good friend to talk to. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t aware I was in his ‘good friend’ category…I’d be interested to see how he treats people he considers enemies if he treats ‘good friends’ the way he’s treated me. But I listened, provided advice and tried to be there for him. I even went as his date to a co-worker’s wedding. After the wedding, we went to a bar where he proceeded to ditch me for the girl he is now engaged to. I knew like two other people at the bar besides him – one of whom was busy entertaining the 15 people he invited out and the other kept asking me to buy him shots. I opted to sit at the bar and watch SportsCenter highlights until a friend could pick me up. Five minutes after leaving, I got a text from Toolboy asking me if I left. That didn’t even warrant a response. And…delete.

-His ex-girlfriend (the one he called me crying over) is good friends with Queen, and Queen is married to one of Toolboy’s best friends. Anyway, ex-girlfriend was at Queen and her hub’s homecoming tailgate and Toolboy showed up with his new girlfriend/now fiancé and freaked out that he had to be around his ex. He then proceeded to yell at Queen and make her cry for allowing his ex to be there. Um…#1, why would he care if his new gf was there?! #2 –grow up and don’t make your best friend’s wife cry!

It’s funny…when I started this post, I forgot about half the shit Toolboy has pulled through the years. But, a la Celine Dion, “It’s all coming back, it’s all coming back to me now…”

My initial reaction when I heard the news: I laughed my ass off at the audacity of the situation. I mean, this dude sobbed to me for weeks about how broken-hearted he was over his ex girlfriend, then started dating this new girl and proposed to her within a span of nine months. I know things like this happen, but in his case, it seems highly unlikely. He’s a bit too self-absorbed.

So then, I started to feel sorry for his fiancé…I’m not sure if she knows what she’s getting herself into. But now, I’m relieved. One less douchebag for us to filter out of the masses, ladies!

Congrats on your engagement, Toolboy! And thanks for sparring the rest of us from your toolish antics.

At This Point, I Should Just Start My Own Moving Company...

I'm changing my name. It's now Hal. I live in a blue jumpsuit with my name plastered on the front and claim to be buff but am really just huge from the gallons of beer and bags of pork rinds I've consumed in my lifetime.

Over the past few days, I have not only moved myself out of my old apartment and into my new one, but also helped The Hoff move into his new casa.

I haven’t even had a chance to unpack all my stuff yet. It’s overtaken the common area until I get around to organizing everything this weekend. And I will get it done this weekend. (In between drinking beer, eating cheeseburgers and watching fireworks, of course.)

I must say though, my lackadaisacalness was put to shame by The Hoff and his roommates.

Ever try helping a group of 24-year-old guys move out of one house and into another? God bless your soul if you have.

I got over to The Hoff’s around 7 last night. He had been moving/packing since 9 a.m. His roommates didn’t start until 1. Most of the furniture had been moved by the time I got there, but the entire kitchen still needed to be packed along with all the other miscellaneous knick-knacks still laying around the house. Luckily, three out of four guys had lady friends over to help them pack the breakables.

The most astonishing thing to me, though, is how much free stuff guys get when they move.

The Hoff and his roommates left one of those electronic basketball games you see in arcades, a t.v. and computer for the new guys moving in. Conversely, they gained a weight set and ping pong table from the guys who moved out of their new place.

Why would all these guys just give away their stuff like that? One word: Laziness

Can you imagine if girls did the same thing?

"Oh, I really don’t fee like moving my collection of Jimmy Choos, I’ll just leave them for the new girls moving in."

Or

"This Kate Spade luggage set is so heavy I just don’t think I can move it. I’m sure the new tenants will get good use out of it."

All I can say is, these boys are in for a rude awakening when they start living with girlfriends/wives. No way would a woman allow anything to be left behind.

And if you happen to think about it, say a little prayer/send good vibes to the poor maid cleaning their place today. Let’s just say the condition of that house is only marginially better than most frat houses. (And not all of that is The Hoff and his roommates’ fault. That place has seen better days. Like in 1975.)

Hope y'all have a fantabulous holiday weekend! If you don’t get to go see any fireworks, hope you make some of your own. Ow, ow. ;)