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No Thanks, I Don’t Smoke

28 May

Wine Festival started in Maryland a few weeks ago.  Throughout the Spring and much of the Summer, there are a variety of festivals sponsored by local vineyards.  They’re the perfect excuse to head out to some lovely outdoor location, support the local economy by purchasing wine, and then proceed to get blitzed off your face.

Jewcy Bits and I went to a festival a few weeks ago, we’ll be going to another one this Sunday.  It just so happens that she’ll be meeting Disney there.  It should be magical times, especially when Disney asks, “How did you meet?”  Man do I love making up stories for that.  Like:

  • We had the same John;
  • At the free clinic;
  • The last stall at the Bus Station; or (my favorite)
  • Your mom’s house.

(Actually, that last one won’t work because Disney’s mom is dead.)

Anyway, every year Amber and her husband host a brunch before one of the festivals.  This year is no exception.  The evite went out yesterday and I promptly accepted.  This afternoon I decided to check out who else was planning on attending their brunch.  Just below my name was the following comment, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world!”  Left by none other than Smoke Stack.

Freaking Smoke Stack, the world’s worst kisser.  Smoke Stack whom I thought I would never have to see again.  Damn it.  You know, it’s not like I spend my time dating people all over the place.  Sometimes I hate living in a small town.Why on earth do I have to bump into people I’ve dated?  Why??

Oh, well.  I will clearly have to do the only right thing for a mature woman, such as myself, to do. Bring on the booze.

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8 Jan

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The First of the New Year

2 Jan

Day 2 of 2009 will mark a first (of the year) for me: tonight’s the night I get all boozy Suzy!  Margaritas, and mojitos, here I come.  That’s right, I’m going out on the town.  In just a matter of hours, I shall have a drink in my hand while enjoying the company of Lola, Un-boyfriend, Mr. Dirty Ruddy Sailor, and Amber.  So, if you happen to see me out downtown today, feel free to stop over and say hi.  Only don’t be all obvious about it because Lola is the only one that knows about the blog. 

If you come up yelling, “Catherinette??  Catherinette??  Is that you??”  I will look you straight in the face, roll my eyes at you, and tell you that you must have me mistaken for someone else.  May I recommend that when you casually saunter your way towards me that you casually mention, “Peen and wine in ’09.”  Then I shall salute you and drink with you.

I  look forward to having a touch of the cocktail flu tomorrow.  Just a touch.  I don’t want to be a boring loser at lunch tomorrow. 

Oh, did I forget to mention who I was having lunch with tomorrow?  Hmm…how about that.  Must have slipped my mind.  I’d fill you in, but I’m on a schedule and the shower is calling my name.

Guess you’ll just have to wait until tomorrow…


30 Oct

What’s up with dressing like a total whore on Halloween? I don’t get it, and probably never will.  Sure, I have to admit that one year I happened to go as a French Maid.  I was in 8th grade.  I wonder to this day what possessed my mother to let me dress up like this and go to school in the costume.  Perhaps she was convinced that my fat, round body would protect me from danger.  I remember feeling so sexy (which is scary since I was only 13) and being positive that everyone was going to think that I looked like hot shit.

There’s a picture of me in that costume, and all I can think of now is: good lord, I was a plump little bastard.  Why on earthdid you think you looked good?  You looked like a little fat girl trying to dress as an adult.  And kudos to you for your choice of NEON PINK socks with your white Keds.  No, really, nice choice.

It’s been ages and ages since I dressed up for Halloween.  The last time, I dressed up as white trash: denim skirt, black stockings, white shoes, blazer, teased hair, and horrible pink lipstick.  The worst part was that I actually left the house looking like that.  Why, God, why?  After that year, I only went out on Halloween one other time.  Amber, Disney and I chose not to go in costume-which was just as well.  We dragged ourselves downtown, parked our asses on a bar stool, and proceeded to mock the public.

Most of the girls we saw were dressed as slutty versions of nurses, doctors, fire fighters, school girls, secretaries, blah, blah, etc., blah.  My guess is that some of them were solicited and offered $5 for a quick BJ behind the bar.  I’m sure more than one of them agreed to this exchange.

I vowed to myself to never ever go out on Halloween again.  I couldn’t handle all the whores and drunken douche bags who kept asking what I was supposed to be.  I’m too old for that shit, and am perfectly happy locked in my house with some popcorn and some scary movie.  Sadly, this weekend I will have to break the vow I made so many years ago.  Tomorrow night I’m going downtown with Lola.  Saturday I’m supposed to be going to a costume party with the Ruddy Sailor (you can suck it, Foxy), and with Lola.  Herein lies the problem: I have no idea what to wear.  Furthermore, I don’t even want to dress up and I don’t know the people throwing the party. 

Christ, when did I turn into such a stick in the mud??  Hmm…maybe that’s what I’ll go as.  I can wear all brown (representing the mud), and glue a stick to my shirt.  God, what a lame flipping idea.  I really am a stick in the mud.