My Life as SK, Love TT

It was 2005 when Miss K and I started doing everything together: blacking out, getting our purses stolen, ditching each other in Berkeley, and hiding in bushes to smoke cigs.

So here I am, it’s 2010, and I have grown too jealous of her witty one liners and long legs, so I gave Janie the gun, and started attending everything addressed to her, said she had to “work” and thus stepped into the life of Miss K.

Thursday

Fly to SF to go to Tree and Barge’s engagement party on Saturday, and decide to star in the rewrite of ”Sleepless in Seattle” -renamed it “Slutty in SF” and geared up to have a little fun of my own.

Friday

Meet up with Miss K’s SF crew, who frankly I am terrified of because I thought Philadelphia was a state for the first 18 years of my life, and they have conversations with words like “fiscal” “investment” and “fellatio.” Thankfully Rogue was there and he looked as confused as I did. We hit up the Vert, which brought back memories of Gaga night: Sawahdee thinking she made out with Rogue (she did not), me being locked out of rooms, SK storming rooms on my behalf (thanks boo!), and all of us not wearing pants.

The night takes a turn when TSR rapes us with Trivial Pursuit and TenTen realizes she’s stuck in an apartment with a guy who won’t stop quoting American Psycho. She alternates calling taxis with googling “self defense tips against sociopathic movie quoters” for next 60 minutes.

Saturday

Congratulations, Tree and Barge. To many more years of excessive public grinding, I love you both. Although I was ordered to wear SK’s face on my chest, I couldn’t bear to block these beauties, so instead I incessantly talked about her. I also said 3,457 times that I was SK’s roommate, she was unable to make the party because of work, and I was here to try and fill her shoes. I was shot back 3,457 looks of pity and disappointment. I begin to seek out substances that will boost my confidence.

I find what I was looking for, begin to salsa, think I’m good at it, and consider auditioning for Dancing with the Stars. I go to the bathroom only to find blog fans (bathroom people do love us) and almost cry. I also start writing a “Tightest Blog Eva” acceptance speech in my memo field.

We move on to Silver Clouds where I contemplate taking “Slutty in SF” to a whole new level and effing in the bathroom. However, I get distracted when a chick says my dress looks like a Dancing with the Stars dress, and start thinking about how incredibly good I would be at fame.

Within an hour, the following happens:

I’m trying to get drunk off Absolute Citron chapstick because I miss SK and want her there to karaoke Salt N’ Pepa with me.

Dejar tries to strangle me with a tie, I threaten to kick him in the balls, he tells me he’ll “kick me in the cunt even harder.” I believe him and leave.

Rogue asks me if I ever listen to LCD Down Syndrome.

Little Tree asks what my tattoo is, I say “it’s a fairy, ” he gets irritated and says “Why would you get a tattoo in a language you don’t even SPEAK!”

Van City proclaims he’s on the verge of blacking out. I’m immediately offended because he’s not trying to rape me on the dance floor, and vow to wear something sluttier in the future.

Sunday

Maybe I took one too many sleeping pills, but I no longer have any distinction between reality and dreams, and start pouting and chanting “Is this real life?” and staring at my hands. Luckily this makes the plane ride go by quickly, and I promptly return to continue this Ho-mance with SK.

Thanks for a good time you bros and beezies, XO. Next time lets hope you get the both of us.

What These Ts Got Us For Free

A few days ago, T and I returned from a little 4 day vacay in the most beautiful place ever, Maui.  Seriously, the only thing that has kept me from jumping out of my office window this week is  A) that all of my coworkers keep telling me that I am darker than about 40% of our black models and B)  I feel compelled to share our Hawaiian adventure with everyone.  So here it is, in all its glory:

Since we managed to somehow finagle free flights and hotel room, T and I embraced the "free shit is better than regular shit" mantra and wanted to see what else we could get for free during our little trip in paradise.  We've both (almost) outgrown our shoplifting phases, so we had to rely completely on our wit, charm and, most importantly, huge boobs to compel the Hawaiians we encountered to cut us some deals.  I wouldn't say this endeavor was a huge success but it wasn't a complete failure either....

WHAT THESE TS GOT US FOR FREE:

- EXIT ROW SEATS:  I don't know how I have not been introduced to the exit row seat before.  It is truly amazing:  HELLA leg room, basically your own personal TV and you are close enough to first class, you can smell the cheap champagne.  The aromas of champagne wafting combined with the ativan tricked my brain into thinking I was blackout drunk and the 5 hour flight went by in a flash.  Thanks for the upgrade, Richard Gere flight attendant lookalike!

-  HOTEL UPGRADE: Originally, we were supposed to share a studio hotel room, without a kitchen and probably one of those showers where you just shower into a toilet.  Luckily, the front desk guy enjoyed our outfits (no pants, unbuttoned shirts, "just got romped" hair) more than the East Indian family behind us, and upgraded us to a "studio" which included a kitchen, lanai and one huge bed, which T and I shared for 4 nights. Turns out, I was even able to make T have an orgasm by doing nothing other than sleeping next to her.  BOOYA.

- HOTEL ROOM INCIDENTALS:  Ok, well our Ts didn't really get us this one but our maxed out credit cards did.  Our second day there, we got a message from the front desk guy telling us the credit card we threw down for incidentals was declined.  For about 3 seconds I was a little worried but then realized that it was their fault for not running the cards when they had us down there AND THEN not saying anything to us when we had to go back down to get a room key re-magnetized.  Shame on you Aston Kaanapali Shores, shame on you.  The last two days T and I pretty much stayed out of our room and every time we had to walk by the front desk, we made sure to be as naked as possible.  Thankfully, the desk guys were extremely distracted by the boners they popped when we walked by and never caught us.  And while it was very tempting to swipe their nifty iron, I refrained due to the fact that I was already at my 50 lb checked bag limit.     

SNORKEL GEAR: I have known for many years that snorkeling is not my thing.  The first time I went to Hawaii, my step dad told me horror stories about being bitten by an electric eel, stepping on a sea urchin and royally fucking up his feet on coral.  Hence, when it was my turn to try it out, all I could do was curl up in the fetal position and hope that my non stop pissing would keep all of the sea predators away from me.  So when T suggested we give snorkeling a try this trip, I was less than thrilled.  Since the beach hut owner liked our tits enough to give us the gear for free, I decided to give it another chance.  Turns out, snorkeling still sucks. I saw one fish, had a heart attack when I saw what I thought was a shark (it was T's flippers) and snorted a bunch of salt water.  Please note, snorting salt water is not nearly as fun as snorting other substances.

AUTHENTIC ISLAND BABY SHOWER: When T and I found out we would be staying with WM's family for a night, we were a little nervous that we would be too hyphy for them.  Apparently, we were mistaken and we soon realized this after they took us to their friend's baby shower.  The following scene ensued upon our arrival:  The scariest looking Samoan dudes ever were passing around (from what I could see) at least 3 joints, there were more children than I could count running around throwing tropical island fruits at each other and the entertainment was a 400 lb Samoan dude singing and strumming a ukelele all the while looking like he was wondering what the most efficient form of suicide is.  Other highlights of the shower included the mom to be asking us who in the hell we were, the baby prayer circle during which I was laughing because T tickled me and the most interesting baby shower games ever.  Now, I have never been to a baby shower before but I don't think games such as "dress the resident gay island guy up like a baby", "unscramble misspelled baby related words" and "guess the animal herd we're trying to describe by using the most obscure words ever" are typical.

Like I said above, our Ts did not get us everything we wanted for free so stay tuned for my next post "What These Ts Most Definitely Did Not Get Us For Free" .

I'm Almost a Celebrity, Get Me Outta Here!!!!!

In LA, everyone recognizes how cool and almost famous we are. Examples:

1. When I rear-end the car in front of me, they wink, smile, and drive off.
2. When we go to Trousdale, the drinks are always free and Russell Brand magically appears to ogle our breasts.
3. We walk outside, and people bum rush us with Parliament Lights.

Apparently we are a little less famous in Hawaii.

Below are a few examples of where Hawaii failed to recognize that two celebutantes were taking shit over.

Dollar Rental
Apparently Pukaka at Dollar Rental or whatever her name is was jealous of our non-Samoan physiques. We were forced to pay (!) extra because I am 24, not 25. We were also forced to drive a Dodge Caliber (http://www.dodge.com/en/2009/caliber/)
Since we just watched Thelma and Louise and their techniques were still fresh in my mind, I texted SK that we should kill Pukaka. This plan was soon foiled because we saw a Starbucks and iced coffee sounded yummy.

Hana, Maui
Sans our bff DJ, we stayed with the extended DJ family in Hana. We met a new friend-Island Joe- and he wanted to do us so we immediately felt right at home :) We realized he wanted to eff after Island Majal told us not to worry because Joe’s marriage wasn’t “strictly monogamous or anything.”

We were also given white canopies to sleep under that made me feel like I was in that Britney Spears perfume commercial. It looked like a nice little princess cocoon until swarms of bugs began to cling to the outside and then the torrential downpour began.

“The Best Beach on the Pacific”
I should’ve known that dipping your feet into the ocean was like playing the “just the tip” game with a guy. You start out only going in a little, but then you get all wet and figure what the hell! And go all the way.

Hamoa Beach= celebrity shit.

Forgetting your swimsuit and swimming in the ocean in your dress= poor little Mexican kid shit.

Being completely dominated by a wave and losing your underwear, then walking in your see through dress onto shore to be greeted by your friends parents? = TT shit.

Flight upgrades
On the way TO Maui: exit row seats, which allowed us enough superiority for Miss K to openly pop an ativan, spy on another passenger, then google him, and discuss the merits of Anal Beach Bums 7.

One the way home FROM Maui: surrounded by screaming children with Ed Hardy moms and gay dads. As many times as we yelled “I’m a celebrity, get me outta here” and SK exclaimed “Are. You. Kidding Me” we were countered by a four year old screaming for Dora the explorer or Minute Maid. We were also denied peanuts.

Taxi rides
Night 1: Random drunk dude from Palm Springs asks to share a cab then tells the driver that he is “going where they’re going.” In unison, SK and I tell him he is most definitely NOT. In order to not get raped, we start talking to the cab driver (and crossing our legs a little tighter). We ask the taxi driver where we can go out at night, and he says “Don’t go out, go home.”

Night 2: Bruce aka Jeff Bridges is our taxi driver and #1 fan after we bombard his taxi with our good looks. He gets our names and uses them in each sentence at least 3 times, tells us we look like we work out, then gives us his number. I put him in my phone as “Bruce???” and consider making out with Miss K if says he’ll discount the ride for lesbian shit. We exit the taxi with $30 less, no dignity, and a penchant for lesbian voyeurism.

Kaanapali Jet Ski
As many of you know, I love a good ride. Especially the kind that allow me to get wet and on top of things.

I somehow convinced Miss K with my enthusiasm that letting me drive a jetski with her on the back would be hella fun, and since she was on her “daredevil spree” the argument against jet skiing was short lived. The jet ski team immediately treated us like the celebutantes we pretend to be, and our confidence levels shot through the already nonexistent roof/glass ceiling/ other weird metaphor for high things.

After accidentally hawking a loogie in Miss K’s face, throwing her off the jetski, then getting pulled over by a rescue jet ski for going too far, we head back to flirt with Dan the Island Man. Miss K and Dan the Island Man sense a mutual connection, he walks away, we have the typical “Am I gonna eff Dan?” “Dan totally has drugs” conversation, and we get his number. It was really romantic.

And then, in typical Miss K fashion, when we’re back on solid ground, Miss K is over Dan the Island Man. I begin to sulk a little because I realize our stuffed animal Tug gets more play than we do :( but then i look down at my WHATWOULDLINDSAYLOHANDO? bracelet and immediately feel better.

Take That Jesus!

If Jesus could revive himself in 3 days, then we can certainly revive this blog in a couple posts...

First off, I would like to apologize for my lack of blogging recently and being more boring than Lindsay Lohan with that damn SCRAM bracelet strapped to her ankle. It was due mostly to a combination of blogger's block and trying to be a responsible employee and human being, but now that summer is right around the corner, all I want to do is party (and share my stories with the 3 people still reading this blog).

Since our last post, a lot has changed so I thought I'd fill everyone in on what's going on:

1. Hair:  After a rough couple of weeks of at home hair coloring aka self inflicted torture, TT and I have become brunettes.  I think (combined) in two weeks, we dyed our hair 8 times.  TT's hair went from blonde to yellow to green back to blonde to red to black to purple and now a reddish brown.  My hair transformed from dark blonde to light brown to green to dark brown.  Fortunately, most of my hair decided it liked being in my head and it didn't fall out but there is not a day that goes by that I don't shed a little tear thinking about me being a blonde.  At least Twilight is really hot right now and all the 14 year olds tell me I'm just like Bella, with bigger tits.

2. Boys:  Well, obviously I have no updates on this front seeing as though the last time I had the opportunity to hook up with a random guy, I ran home in 4 inch stilettos at 4 am, but TT has miraculously managed to drag me along on a couple of her dates so I'll just talk about those.

First double date: TT's boytoy and 4 of his friends drag us to "First Fridays" in Venice which is basically a carnival minus rides but still with carnies dressed in hipster's clothing wandering aimlessly around Abbot Kinney.  Don't get me wrong, I like being the prettiest girl when we go out but being the prettiest girl at First Fridays is like being the smartest kid on the short bus: not awesome. The rest of the date is pretty unmemorable except for AB almost getting into a fist fight with a guy that was hitting on her because he tried to make her do 10 push ups at the bar.


Second double date:  The only reason I agreed to subject myself to the torture of another group date was because I was promised good drinks and good food, which in my mind meant free.  Turns out, their idea of "good" food was anything you wanted off the menu at either the Party Quesadilla truck or Waffles N Chickn truck.  As you can guess, I was about as thrilled for this as I would be for an IUD insertion and, after shooting TT multiple dirty looks, agreed to stick it out and at least test out some of my new jokes about abortion and Christians.  The rest of the night entailed watching the boys get shitfaced off whiskey and jaeger, shooting TT even more dirty looks, and the icing on the cake was seeing the alcoholic sitting a few tables away barf up the four 40's he had that day all over the floor. 


3. Celebrities: STILL no Ryan G but I am basically best friends with Victoria Beckham, Mischa Barton and Chace Crawford (thanks Sports Club LA!).  We were also recently at a party with Tom Green and Chris Farley's brother but since I couldn't joke about losing balls, banging Drew Barrymore or heroin, I pretty much had nothing to say to them :( Tom Green for sure checked out my ass though, BALLLINNNNNNN.


4. Drugs:  About a month ago, I made the decision that my work and personal relationships are more important than any drug, so haven't touched anything that doesn't come from the ground since May.  It's been pretty tough but it's all about willpower and I know if I can just think positively and keep focused, I can do it.

Ok yeah this is obviously total bullshit because quitting is for quitters. The real problem is that my fucking drug dealer recently moved to Europe leaving me high low and dry so if anyone has a guy in LA, preferably that delivers, please tell him I have lots of money to blow. LITERALLY!!!!!

5. Gaga: Gaga's still the shit, obvi.

We’ve Missed You

We’re back bitches, but like a limited time offer you better jump on this isht before it’s too late.

Prompted by a fellow SLS (Single Ladies Suite) member’s recent less than stellar experiences with the opposite sex, here’s the most recent 100% nonfiction installment of TT’s List of Dating Dont’s for the Men of LA.

1. When I go to the gym, don’t send the following texts:

10:02am: hows your morning goin?

10:32am:  dont pull this bullshit with me i know what you're doing

2. Don’t stare off into space mid pool game and when i ask what you’re looking at, respond with “the wind.”

3. Don’t beat your past girlfriend.

4. Don’t invite me to your family game night where your family calls your mother a “dumbass farting cunt.”

5. Do not tell me we’re going somewhere with “good food, good drinks, and a cool scene” then act surprised when I’m hungry at 7:30 when we meet up.

6. Do not offer to take me to a taco truck when you find out I am hungry.

7. When there is no taco truck, do not assume I don’t need dinner and can exist entirely off of diet cokes because you exist entirely off of whiskey.

8. Do not tell me that you just wanted to “take some floozy to the wedding this weekend to have fun with but the bride wouldn’t let me” while we’re on a date.

9. Do not compulsively text things without vowels like “Gng 2 MI6 2nite hv tbl wud lv 2 c u”

10. Don’t speak with a southern accent when you’re from Stockton

Simultaneous Gchatgasm

I'm Sprung.

Because I know you are all dying to get into our sick and twisted little heads....

Formspring Us!

Ways to Retaliate Against People Who Hate You/ Suck at Life/ Are Not as Cool as You

In the past couple of weeks, it has been brought to my attention that I may or may not have a few enemies out there. These enemies all have one thing in common: they are in love with me and suck at life. When confronted with these enemies, I’ve prepared a list of survival tactics of how to act and react.

-call five different pizza places and order a pizza from each place. Say you will pay in cash when they arrive. Deliver them to his home address.
- remind him how you faked every orgasm because their D was too small.
- bring up the fact that homosexuality is completely acceptable these days to most people.
- go everywhere with your RBF (revenge boyfriend, see earlier post) and complain about how heavy your purse is because of all the cash you have to carry for him.
- do the kick ball change: Kick him in the balls so hard he shits himself and he has to change.
- dump your vodka soda splash of cran on him then complain loudly about the douche who spilled on you, get him kicked out of bar.
- trail behind him and whisper “OMG! Is that Pee Wee Herman? That IS pee wee herman!!”
- trail behind his girlfriend and whisper “OMG! Is that rikki lake? That IS rikki lake!!”
- key his car, fork his lawn, egg his house, fuck his dad.
- Sick your best friends on his after several bottles of 2 buck chuck and remind them if they get wild enough it’ll make the news, and probably eventually a reality tv series.

Don’t fuck with us.

She Got it from Her Mama

As a follow up to Miss K's momologue, I feel compelled to post my own mother's latest email worthy of 9021ho-ness.

From TT's Mom:

I was snooping online about Josh Groban and one thing I found out is that he likes to eat at The Farm - that's the one in the shopping center you wanted to take us to isn't it? He might be dating April Bowlby from Two and a Half Men and is just friends with Katy Perry - that's not so bad is it? Hmmmm what a lovely daydream....Josh as a son-in-law! :) :) :) One article said he was a little moody though....guess I'll just have to forget that daydream!

Good lookin out, mom...

Earthquakes, Schmearthquakes.

FROM: Miss K's mom

DATE: Tuesday, April 6, 2010 10:31 am

TO: Miss K

Did you feel the earthquake yesterday???? Do you have a plan just in case?


FROM: Miss K

DATE: Tuesday, April 6, 2010 10:31 am

TO: Miss K's mom

Nope, didn't feel a thing! (that's what she said)


FROM: Miss K's mom

DATE: Tuesday, April 6, 2010 10:36 am

TO: Miss K

Do you have a backup plan?


FROM: Miss K

DATE: Tuesday, April 6, 2010  10:38 am

TO: Miss K's mom

Mom, I always have plan B


FROM: Miss K's mom

DATE: Tuesday, April 6, 2010  11:00 am

TO: Miss K

Stephanie Lynne, I do not find this amusing or funny at all.


FROM: Miss K

DATE: Tuesday, April 6, 2010  11:06 am

TO: Miss K's mom

Ok my backup plan is not dying and finding the nearest open bar


FROM: Miss K's mom

DATE: Tuesday, April 6, 2010  11:08 am

TO: Miss K

Good plan babe.

Ode To Birth Control

In the latest installment of  "S & T get really high for no reason and stare at each other and laugh for no reason", I tapped into my undiscovered talent of songwriting.

ODE TO BIRTH CONTROL by DJ Lovertits

I love you
you love me
and I won't have
a baaaaaaby.

Because I
take you everyday
and you
kill all of
my eeeeeeeggs.

Thank you
but now I have
jizz running down
my leeeeeeeegs.

Typical Monday G(chatter)

Trousdale: Like Soft Core Porn, for Drinkers

We have found our Mecca. Alas, we bow down and party with these American idols.

Miss K, ABro and I arrive early to avoid standing in line with any common class minions. Upon entrance, we find ourselves in an empty Trousdale, vastly outnumbered by the latex clad/dominatrix waitresses. Miss K reassures me it’s just early (it’s 11:00pm) and that real celeb types always arrive fashionably late. I make a note in my BlackBerry memo field under “How to Look and Act Really Famous”, and chug Redbull #3. I ask hot bouncer dude if we can sit in the reserved booths until the paying peeps arrive, he responds, “Honestly, I don’t give a fuck.” I’m in love.

Within 15 minutes, we’re kicked out of the reserved seating and 45 Mary Kate Olsen lookalikes have surrounded the bar. This is when the real magic happens.

ABro whips out her best DJ Tanner moves while waiting for her whiskey diet at the bar when a Hollywood greaser with a shirt that reads “ALCOHOLICA” says “I like your moves.” Miss K misunderstands and/or wants to have a more interesting conversation and shouts back “YOU LIKE HER BOOBS?!” Thus begins a wonderful friendship with Mr. Justin Murdock. He yells at Miss K for hiding her boobs, tells us big boobs are better than big personalities, and ABro texts him “It’s Boobies” to give him her number. As he walks away he whispers the one thing he knows will win us over for life: “Google me.” Turns out he’s the heir to the Dole Foods fortune. Good game, ABRO, good game.

Meanwhile, we spy: Brandon Davis looking like a coke whore who forgot what a shower was, Turtle from Entourage who apparently ate Alice’s “this one to make you grow small” cookie, Chick Liddell, Stacy Keibler, Topher Grace, and several cast members of Heroes. Miss K has seen one episode of Heroes, and let Hiro know she was their biggest fan.

The real fun begins when we make friends with the two most ridiculous people in Trousdale, who almost get kicked out for dangerous dance moves. This is no hyperbole. Turtle almost got beheaded by Tall Blond Dancer Dude. Tall Blond Dancer Dude continues to groove like a robot on acid and hits it off with Miss K immediately (obvi). Turns out he’s a model (obvi) who texts her pictures of Tom Selleck (obvi).

Miss K is SO on fiiya tonight that when she dougies on the dance floor, she somehow manages to literally be on fire: I look over and there is smoke billowing from her hipster hat. It was like the Immaculate Combustion.

Topher Grace sits and stares at how much fun we’re having, and while seated he looks pretty good. Standing, he looks like a starving 13 year old gamer. But he continues to sit, so we like him.

By the end of the night I’ve reached an all time redbull high (count em: FOUR!), Miss K is almost fainting from hunger, and ABro is pouting in the backseat.

Success.

Super High Me.

Last weekend, I decided to take a weekend off binge drinking and spend the time I'm usually hungover/barfing/sleeping all day doing productive things such as cleaning, working out and eating the WeHo healthy veggie from Whole Foods.  Well, in true addict form, I very quickly realized being sober blows and decided that instead of drinking and uppers, I would try out pot and yogurtland.  Luckily, the ladies of the SLS were not only supportive of my new decision, they joined in.

 First hit:

- Being that I smoke like a chimney, you would think I would have no problem with a little pot smoke. WRONG.  After I inhale I feel like my lungs just collapsed and immediately start coughing up my one good lung while at the same time blowing smoke in my own face. 

- 5 minutes later we are all "laying out" aka passed out in the sun.  It looks like a scene out of Valley of the Dolls: CinPin and I are stretched out across the cement divider between the hot tub and the pool,  ABro is next to us on the steps and T is a little behind her on the basketball court.  I am pretty sure none of us said a word for a good 45 minutes.

Second hit:

- I look over at T and she is in the fetal position laughing hysterically. No one has said anything and nothing funny is happening whatsoever.  I decide to turn my attention to ABro because she is rambling on about the hair growth pattern in dogs while stroking Jack.

- Apparently Jack did something to piss ABro off because about a minute later she stops petting him, looks at him like he has just insulted her tremendously, raises her hand above her head then BAM, she smacks the little Nerf football he had in his mouth out of it.  I look at Jack and he is as equally confused as I am about what just happened and ABro looks very pleased with herself. 

-CinPin is a real pro at this whole getting high business so while we are hallucinating and silent, she is swimming laps in the pool with the same ease as Michael Phelps. WTF CinPin, WTF?

Third hit:

- T is cuddling with Jack on a chair and listing off reasons why Jack is better than any man.  Some of the reasons: he likes to cuddle, he's well hung and he doesn't text her "what r u up 2 2day".

- I am sitting on the couch staring at T (as usual) when I get the chills.  I guess I made some sort of weird noise because T screams "OHMIGOD ARE YOU OKAY?!?!?!?!?". I just look at her and laugh and then she starts laughing. The laughing went on for 15 minutes. 

- After our 15 minutes of uncontrollable laughter, we went on a yogurtquest to yogurtland.   Turns out, I forgot flip flops and all I had were my running shoes so my outfit was the following: chiffon blouse, denim cut off shorts, big floppy hat and sunglasses and nike air max's circa 2004.  Jump on it fellas.

- The drive to yogurtland was the scariest drive of my life.  Even scarier though, was what was inside yogurtland: fat people and children as far as the eye could see.  Trying to get to the yogurt dispensers was like trying to get to the front of a Kylie Minogue concert filled with gay guys: tons of clawing, being grinded on and someone may or may not have slipped a couple of digits in my butt.  The yogurt was definitely worth it though.  Being molested is a small price to pay for such cheap and delicious yogurt.

That night T slept for 15 + hours while I clocked in a solid 12. The next day we decided to put the child proofing caps back on the top of our prescriptions, hide Fedde Le Gram's number and lock away the 2 buck chuck for the next month in order to transform into potheads.  We will keep you guys updated on our progress though by the end of this, I may be illiterate. 

The Princess And The Peens.

Sunday, I returned from a little weekend visit in SF.  Today, I am so bruised it looks like I hung out with Ike Turner all weekend and so brain dead you would think he performed a lobotomy on me as well.  There was a lot of debauchery that went down this weekend so I just want to warn you that this is going to be a long post but please bear with me, it'll be worth it...that's what I keep telling myself at least.

THURSDAY:

- I arrived into SF around midnight and met up with Rogue, AK, Mangina and GTOD.  I was about 3 redbulls and 8 cigarettes deep and obviously ready to party.  Within 20 minutes of my arrival in SF I had already been offered drugs and sketched by an 85 year old cowboy hanging out at Balboa Cafe.  At this point I knew the weekend was going to be amazing based off the fact that I looked really cute and skinny in the amateur sketch.
- AK's friend decided to take creepiness to a whole new level by breaking out a handicam at the bar and videotaping random chicks, our friends and the 8 different couples around the bar that were making out/dry humping.
- Around 12:30 we head over to Eastside West and I have to double check the street signs outside to make sure we haven't somehow magically transported to Oakland.  All of the tables in the restaurant were moved out and the rap music was deafening.  We all bumrush the nearest elevated surface to ensure a proper takeover.  Everyone at this point is pretty out of control but, as usual, Rogue is the most out of control.  He throws himself into a dance circle of chicks and we watch them look at him, turn on their heels, and run into the bathroom.  Well played Rogue.
- At 1:45 am we all make the executive decision to head home in order to prepare for the all day binge drinkfest we have planned for Friday.  Outside of the bar is the following scene: AK babbling on about something that I have no chance of deciphering due to his accent, blacked out state and mouthful of pizza, Rogue is carrying around a blacked out Australian dude and AK's friend is still videotaping random chicks.  At this point I realize that California has never made a better decision than having the bars close at 2.

FRIDAY:

- 2 hours of sleep + 10 bud lights x 8 hours of drinking - uppers = a blackout by 3 pm.
- Our wine tour basically turned into a shitshow pretty quickly.  We managed to drink 18 beers in an hour, got kicked out of a winery for bringing bud lights into the classy wine tasting room and I finagled a free bottle of wine out of the day.  Throughout the trip, I demanded the boys refer to me only as "the princess", hold my glasses and purse for me and carry me around.  In return, they demanded I put out.  We all obliged.
- By 4:30 pm we were ready to get back to the city and continue partying so we turn around and head back to SF.  Our limo driver was nice enough to make a pit stop at a gas station so I could barf pee and the boys could buy more beer (just what we needed).  During this pit stop Ed, the limo driver, gets out and buys himself a couple of tall cans and chugs them before hopping back behind the wheel.  We all think this is a little odd but don't really think anything of it because who are we to judge?  Once we hit Emeryville, Ed gets a call and right after he hangs up he announces he has to make a stop.  What kind of stop you ask? Oh, you know, he just has to pick up his 15 year old runaway daughter at a Starbucks in Oakland who has been missing for 2 weeks.  Typical dad stuff.  After about 30 minutes of driving around the ghetto of Oakland with GTOD drunkenly looking up cross streets of Pack n' Saves and Starbucks on his iPhone we finally find the daughter, she hops in the front seat with Ed and we can finally head back to SF.
- I have no idea what happened between the hours of 5 and 8 but from the pictures taken during this time, I may or may not have had a threesome with Rogue and GTOD.
- Because other people need and like to eat, we all went to dinner at Wasabi & Ginger.  The wine tour participants basically continued drinking, doing drugs, smoking cigs and rolling around on the floor.  This proved to be a difficult task for me considering I was sans panties and avec a short skirt but luckily, I am well versed in the art of going commando and being a lady at the same time.  Tree and Barge were both horrified and jealous of our behavior so they decided the proper course of action was to chug Asahi and Sake like there was no tomorrow. 
- After dinner we head over to Silver Clouds for, what I thought would be, some low key karaoke.  Turns out, Svedka vodka was sponsoring a party and everyone's binge drinking habit!  I basically spent my entire time here trying not to vomit anywhere other than the bathroom, avoiding being forced on stage and running away from the guys that were hitting on me that looked like they came straight from the set of Revenge of the Nerds.  Nerd tactics for hitting on girls include: walking by and holding their arm out for you to grab on to without saying anything, grabbing your ass then saying "you like that?" and staring at you intently then when you are creeped out enough to walk away, following you.
- During our time at Silver Clouds Barge asks me to be in her wedding which I happily accept!  After I say yes I try to remember the last time I was in a wedding... I was 5, the flower girl and apparently a wannabe stripper because during the ceremony I decided that it was nakey time and stripped out of my cute little flower girl dress into my even cuter birthday suit. Barge, I wouldn't expect things to be much different at your wedding. Consider this your warning.
- By midnight, everyone I came into contact with started morphing into the characters from "Nightmare Before Christmas" so I had to beg, borrow and steal Rogue's keys so I could take myself down. Thankfully, a chick with a big ass walked by and distracted him so I was able to grab the keys and make my escape.

SATURDAY:

- Saturday we decide to continue on our weekend long boozefest at Sam's over in Tiburon.  For those of you that are unfamiliar, Sam's is a really cool restaurant/bar with sick views of SF where many people go to day drink and in order to get there, you usually take the ferry.  Rogue had looked up ferry times the night before and assured us that the ferry left from the ferry building at 12.  Well, you should never listen to a drunken retard ( I say this lovingly!), even if they went to an Ivy League school because the ferry left from Fisherman's Wharf at 2.
- We finally arrive at Sam's and it looks like a scene from The Jersey Shore: dudes in sequin hats (other than Treehorn), chicks with fake titties and aggressive yells from mutliple people.
- After 45 minutes waiting for a table, we are all pretty hammered and finally get a seat.  Two  minutes later a family is seated next to us and the 7 year old daughter right next to me.  This really angers me and I decide it would be hilarious if I stood up and shouted "WHERE AM I AND WHY DO I HAVE A BONER?!?!??!" Her family didn't really think it was all that amusing but I think the little 7 year old appreciated it.  You're welcome kid, this is what you have to look forward to in 18 years.  And shame on your parents for bringing you to Sam's for your birthday.
- Later that night we head over to a new club, Manor West, for some much needed bottle service and a plethora of private bathroom stalls that were big enough for multiple people to fit in.  Manor West is a new club in SF where apparently everyone who's anyone in the Asian Mafia comes to party.  Seriously, I've never been so scared of a group of people whose heights all maxed out at 5'8".
- After we fistpumped and drank grey goose until our hearts content, we departed and went on the hunt for taxis.  While waiting for our taxis, the following hilarity ensued:  AK gets punched in the face and kicked by a chick who could have been a main character in Street Fighter, GTOD is standing silently on a corner with his eyes half open and a perma thizz/from expression on his face and somehow acquired a birthday hat from one of the members of the AZN Mafia and ZBecks is hailing anything and everything- taxis, police cars and Escalades that more than likely gang members are ghost riding.
- Finally home, AK finds it necessary to keep partying so goes out on the street so he can dance (don't ask, he did the same thing the night before).  Three minutes of blacked out street dancing later, AK runs over to a window and starts talking to it. Turns out, there was actually a girl in there and he had the same conversation with her the night before.   Even more surprising is that she once again opened her window to converse with him.  It was like a more fucked up, dysfunctional Rapunzel.

 Sunday, our reunion finally came to an end.  Although I spent most of the weekend in a drunken and drug induced hazed, I managed to learn a few things:  I learned what I miss about SF (my friends, Fedde Le Gram and how I am so much better looking that most of the other chicks), what I don't miss about SF (the DPT, 18 and older clubs and the multitudes of guys that swear by "The Game" and try to implement its teachings whenever possible) and how TT and I should never be apart ever ever again :)