Getting My Fest On

I mentioned how rad October is already, yeah? It’s a fucking great month as is. But it is nothing short of spectacular when you get your ass to some Oktoberfesting festivities. And that’s exactly what I did last weekend. I Oktoberfested my ass off.

We stayed at D’s cousin’s house for the weekend. They live a stone’s throw away from Kitchener/Waterloo where the bulk of the Oktoberfest action takes place. They love getting out to the events every year, and we had a great time partying it up with them. We road-tripped up there with another one of D’s cousins and her boyfriend, which made our party 6 in total. We were ramped up for an excellent adventure that night.

For any party rubes out there, this post is a blueprint on how to get the most mileage possible out of a night at Oktoberfest. I’m providing a service here. You know, for a well-rounded night of Oktoberfest debauchery.

1) Look The Part

I love themes. A theme automatically gives your night of drunken fun a memorable edge over all those other nights of sad, themeless drinking in your dingy basement. You may not think it at first, but the theme “German” totally rules. You’ve got a fun colour palette to work with, steins of beer, delicious schnapps and jägermeister to shoot, archaic looking hats, all kinds of lederhosen, hot fräuleins in beer wench getups, polka, and lots of sexy accordion music. Embrace all of it. I have a hat that I’ve worn faithfully to ever Oktoberfest I’ve ever been to, and every year I treat it to some new pins. You’ve got to keep that hat current, so make sure one of the pins has the year on it. That big blue pin on my hat with Onkel Hans playing the tuba is from Oktoberfest 2010. Good times, bro. Every time I look at that pin the fun times come flooding back to mind. Oktoberfest and nostalgia are one hot couple. I’ll also try to wear either black, red, or yellow. Well, usually never yellow because I look like day-old vomit in yellow.

Oktoberfest look

It’s Oktoberfest 2013 haute couture

2) Get Your Gamble On

There are always plenty of black jack tables and Crown/Anchor wheels (which D affectionately dubbed Boats & Hoes many a fest ago) to be played at any event you attend. Benders are so much more fun when you throw gambling and counting into the mix. I know D just loves it when I sit there counting on my fingers to see if he got 21 or not. Or when I jump up and down yelling excitedly to strangers when I make four bucks on one epic spin of the old gambling wheel. Shake that shit up son! Get to the table and plonk down a whopper of a bet so the dealer knows you’re a power playyaa. Or stretch that five bucks out for miles making penny bets over at the wiener tables. There’s no wrong way, you can gamble however your heart tells you to. Even if you’re not really into gambling, the tables are a great place to meet people and watch as they spend their dolla dolla bills.

Oktoberfest gamble

The faces of winners

3) Drink As Much As Possible

This is why 95% of the people are here, after all. They want to get loose and go nuts, relive old times and recapture their youth. They want to drink as magically as they did the last time they were able to get to an Oktoberfest event, which may have been a long time ago. We always go to the more mature night, the one that attracts the 25-50 demographic. Don’t make the mistake of going to an event marketed to students. Waterloo has two universities and one college, so the student night draws an enormous crowd. The student night is sloppier, angrier, ruder, and more immature. Don’t get me wrong, that’s excellent fun when you’re in that sweet 19-23 year-old zone. But once you’ve outgrown that part of your life, you don’t need the bullshit anymore. The “real grown-ups” are a frigging hoot, and they like to get their drink on. If someone offers you a shot, you do it and then join them for another. When you’re in line for beer tickets, buy a couple more than you think you’ll need, just in case. You can never have too much beer at Oktoberfest. You’ll probably barf the next day, but barfing is part of it.

Oktoberfest chug

Double-fisting like I invented it

4) Enjoy the Band/D-Floor

Parties need killer music to thrive. I can think of nothing more killer than accordion based rock ‘n’ roll covers with a pinch of chicken dance thrown in for good measure. The dance floor at Oktoberfest is hopping with fun-loving peeps who can bust sick moves. I’m incredibly uncoordinated and prone to mock intensity when I dance. Anyone who has had the exquisite pleasure of sharing the d-floor with me knows that I’m all bouncing energy and limbs akimbo. I cannot be led, and my impulses cannot be tamed. But dancing and music are in my heart, so I get out there and just fucking giv’r til I can’t giv’r no more. This year, I even jumped up on one of the picnic tables to shake my butt. Security didn’t like that very much though. So try to keep it on the d-floor. Unless of course an irresistible urge arises. Then I say, go forth and table dance!

Oktoberfest dance

Rockin’ ‘n’ rollin’ all night long

5) Hoover Some Delicious Drunk Eats

There is plenty of food to feed any fancy at Oktoberfest. Schnitzel, sauerkraut, wursts, cheeses, pretzels, baked goods, chips. You name it, they got it. And after all the drinking you’ve done, you’re going to need something hearty to settle it all down. Before our cab got in, I raced over to the concession and grabbed myself a hefty german sausage on a bun. I slathered that shit in the fanciest mustard I could find and dug in. I also grabbed some chips with the spoils of my gambling. D hates mustard, but he was hungry so his hatred was forgotten and I shared a few bites with him. We mowed down the chips while we walked to the cab, took in the beautiful starry night, and felt divine. We ate in a frenzy though, so I don’t have any pictures of the sausage. But I do have a great drunk picture of D!

Oktoberfest D

I love drunk D!

We had ourselves quite the time. I won four bucks gambling, I danced on a table, I stole some guy’s beer, I gave an Irish dude a fake number (good luck with that follow-up homie), I pissed off a security guard, I got some sweet new pins, I ate delicious food, then I passed out in drunken oblivion when we got home. A surefire recipe for a memorable Oktoberfest experience.

The following day I barfed in the car on our ride home. There was a bag, but it had the tiniest little hole in it and leaked ever so slightly on the car seat. The bag-o-puke got chucked out the window onto the shoulder of the highway as we were driving. I imagine it to have been quite a sight for other motorists. But like I said, barfing is part of it. I feel terribly about that, and I will make reparations to the driver, but a great night of boozing doesn’t go unpunished.

And Oktoberfest 2013 is definitely one for the boozing books.

A Colourful Wedding (In More Ways Than One!)

I still feel a little tingly from Saturday night. Some residual happiness just kicking around my heart. I wish it would last forever. That feeling you have after a really amazing wedding. It’s a feeling of clarity, because everything makes sense in the world. Like a perfectly matched pair of mismatched socks.

One of my most beloved and wonderful friends, The Magpie, got married to the man of her dreams. And they threw one of the best weddings I’ve ever been to.

It wasn’t about a perfect white dress, sweeping landscapes as backdrops for the perfect pictures, or lavish spending. There’s such an emphasis on weddings these days. Such high expectations. People get consumed in the details, trying to control every aspect of it, forcing perfection. The Magpie’s wedding was a departure from all of that over-stylized bullshit we’ve come to expect from weddings.

It was real. All of the emphasis was exactly where it should have been, on the marriage itself. You could hear it in the way they said their vows. You could see it in the way they looked at each other as they danced. You could feel it the very second you walked into the room. They meant it. They meant it with every fibre of their beings. And they’re going to keep on meaning it, every day, from this day on.

It started with a simple, heartfelt ceremony at city hall. With music and friends.



The vows were honest and sweet.


They kissed and signed the paperwork to make it stick. Time to get back to their place. Time to celebrate!


We’re gunna need a bigger tub…


There were brilliant toasts. Curse toasts even. I’ve never heard a bride drop an f-bomb in a thank you toast before, but it was a delightful addition!

Cue the music, time to dance.


Twirling and swirling in a twelve dollar dress. Something only the Magpie could make so magical.



Stealing a laugh with her new father-in-law.


We drank til our faces hurt, partied like there was no tomorrow.






I’ve never been in a room with so much happiness. Which is probably why I was practically bouncing off the walls! The steady supply of drinks may have had something to do with that as well…

I was very happy that night. So happy that I thought my little heart was going to burst in my chest at any minute because it couldn’t possibly manage to hold anymore joy. I love my friend, and I love how it’s all turned out for her. Wildest dreams all coming true.


Cheers buddy, you’re a wife now and it’s gunna be awesome!

White Wedding

Well, it happened people. That sister of mine, the star of the infamous bachelorette party, got hitched. The vows have been exchanged, the license signed, and hands have been fastened. It was a beautiful day and everyone had a good time, some more so than others… but we’ll touch on that later. In retelling the story of the wedding there are so many things to mention that this post runs the risk of becoming quite tedious. So I have decided to lend a little structure to what will surely be a lengthy post. I am going to count down the top 5 best and worst things about my sister’s wedding!


5. The Waiting

I expected the wedding day to be incredibly hectic and frazzling. I pictured frantically running around, being late for every appointment, rushing to get ready, and being irrevocably warped by the frenzy of it all. Such was not the case though. In fact, we almost had too much time on our hands. The hair appointment was at 9:00am and then we were to head down to the venue for 11:30am to have makeup done. We left the hair appointment by 10:50am and had a really quick drive down. Makeup was equally quick and painless. I was finished all that by noon and then didn’t have to be ready for photos until 2:30pm. And there really wasn’t anything to do but wait. For an impossibly impatient person like myself, this was particularly brutal. But I suppose it was preferable to being on the move the whole day through.

Just killing some time at the hall once makeup was done.

4. Venue Was Too Public

The wedding was at a golf course, a perfectly fitting setting for Mar. It was a beautiful course and the weather was perfect. I know they’re not going to shut down the course for a whole day just for one wedding, but there were a few critical times where we really would have benefited from some privacy. For instance, the couple opted to do first look photos. The idea is that they get all done up and see each other before the ceremony for a private session with the photographer. Just the two of them, the photographer, and a little alone time. As my other sister and I escorted Mar to the gazebo to meet up with Neill the fucking wedding co-ordinator was standing around with a group of people (in the gazebo no less!) trying to sell them on the idea of having their own wedding there. Intrusive, much? Seriously. YOU COORDINATED THE WEDDING! You knew where and when they were having these photos… it was totally unprofessional. Also, the asshole sitting in the lounge on looking the ceremony and honking his fucking schnoz like a goose right in the middle of their vows. That was pretty unbelievable too.

3. Taxi Nightmare

It’s a wedding, people drink at them. People also need to arrive alive when they’ve had too much to drink. The venue was also a little bit of a trip from the nearest hotels, about a 20 minute cab ride. So naturally, one would assume that taxis would be readily available and the staff at the golf course would work diligently to ensure that all guests leave via safe and sober means of transportation. Again, such was not the case. We called a couple of hours ahead for our cabs (we needed a few of them), but of course only one showed up. So we let the bride and the groom go ahead first and waited for the next one. That wait was 40 minutes! And when we finally did get in the cab, the fucking driver had no clue where he was going! Instead of stopping and trying to use the GPS to figure it out he opted for driving around jacking the meter up. So that ended in a very unpleasant screaming match and swap to another driver when we reached the first couple’s hotel.

2. Rushed Ceremony

Mar was very specific in that she wanted a relaxed, easygoing ceremony. She planned a grand entrance for the grandparents and parents of the bride and groom in addition to the bridesmaids walking down the aisle. It was a nice touch, it made people feel recognized and appreciated. However, the wedding co-ordinator was way too forceful in pressuring people to get down the aisle. AND, if that wasn’t bad enough our uncle showed up as we were walking down the aisle and cut ahead of the procession so he could dash to his seat. Wildly inappropriate. It was also the only thing that Mar had a pissed off moment about all day. Rightly so I think. She didn’t get the relaxed procession pacing that she wanted, but the ceremony was still very beautiful.

1. Inappropriate Uncle

I’m all for the charmingly inappropriate. Not the kind of inappropriate that would really hurt someone’s feelings, step on toes, or cause conflict. Also, I usually don’t pull my punches on this blog, but for the sake of family members that I know read it on a weekly basis, I am going to censor this entry a little. So, as it turns out the uncle that showed up and cut off the procession during the ceremony had arrived on time. The reason for his intrusion? He was humping his girlfriend in the parking lot. And that’s putting it lightly compared to what he told the ushers when he showed up. I was standing in the receiving line between the groom’s brother and best man and they were snickering. I asked them what was up and they said “Oh, don’t shake this next guy’s hand”. I looked over and sure enough it was that uncle. I asked them what the problem was and they then relayed the news of his indiscretion. Seriously? It’s one day, just a couple of hours really, of getting dressed up and socializing with your family. You seriously could not control yourself long enough to get through the ceremony, the dinner, and a little bit of dancing and then go home and bone like a normal person? And if you really couldn’t control yourself, then why couldn’t you at least be discreet? Instead the ushers got a very graphic account of it and the story proceeded to be blabbed the whole wedding over. Terrible.

Alright, now a little bit of positivity for my darling sister!


5. Photos Before The Ceremony

As I mentioned before, the bride and groom planned on having first look photos and bridal party photos before the ceremony. Best idea EVER. I loved it! The bride and groom get to have some privacy before the ceremony, a chance to loosen the tension so that all the building emotion doesn’t vent itself in an ugly crying face when walking down the aisle. Not that crying is ugly, just sometimes when people cry too hard it can be quite disgusting. And not that they really cried anyways. Neill took one look at Mar’s chest, said “Wow!” and honked her boobs. So much for pomp and circumstance. But it was great. We were all a lot more relaxed going into the ceremony, we caught the best lighting of the day, and we all got to enjoy the cocktail hour and mingle more with guests.

enjoying the pre-ceremony photos

4. Minister/Ceremony

The groom’s background is Scottish, so there were some very cool nods to his heritage during the ceremony. The minister wore a kilt for the ceremony and played the bagpipes while the bride walked down the aisle. He was also a great speaker, with a loud projecting voice. I’m pretty sure he could be heard clearly from the back rows, which is great when you don’t have microphones. He was also funny, making cute little jokes that relieved any emotional tension, and made everyone feel comfortable. They also included a hand fastening ritual in the ceremony. What does that mean? A length of fabric with the groom’s family tartan on one side and the bride’s german heritage colours on the other bound the bride and groom’s hands together. It was pretty cool.

3. DJ

The DJ they hired was just awesome! He was a super mellow dude, and didn’t cop an attitude when you went up to him with song requests. He very perfectly blended in with the couple’s laid-back style. He hosted a cute centrepiece game, had perfect volume control, and worked the crowd just enough. I’m always wary of DJ’s because you never know if they’re going to treat you like dirt or go with the flow. Todd was wicked cool. Also, the music selection was great. Current stuff for the younger crowd, but not abrasive for the older peeps. Classic tunes that get the party started, and songs that got people to shake their groove things.

2. “Fucking Cupcake”

Mar opted for cupcakes instead of a traditional wedding cake. Awesome! The cupcakes were totally delicious. I was out on the patio and didn’t realize that the “cake” had been cut. We were enjoying some cigars when we heard that it happened. D promptly hopped up from his seat and announced that he was going to get “a fucking cupcake!” He also very politely offered to get me “a fucking cupcake!” too. D’s colourful adjective for the dessert was totally warranted. They were fucking cupcakes. Fucking awesome cupcakes indeed! And pretty too!

Fucking Cupcakes!

1. Neill’s Boner Speech

The standout of the night was by far Neill’s speech. It was well written, heartfelt, and hilarious. I would even go so far as to call it riotous. He had some great anecdotes about how he met Mar, their first date, etc. But the best part by far was when he unintentionally referred to having a HUGE boner. He was describing the first time he met Mar and how he had an instantaneous big crush. “And when I say big, I mean it was HUGE!” That’s what he said verbatim. The dining room erupted in laughter. I looked over and saw my aunt stuffing her napkin in her face so she wouldn’t rattle the room with her gargantuan howls of laughter. I also saw one of my uncles literally slapping his leg as he LOL’d. Let’s be honest, most of the time wedding speeches are dull. They’re dull because certain people are obligated to do them, not because they are necessarily the best speakers in the room. But Neill proved himself to be quite skilled at entertaining the crowd.

Neill is gonna drop a sweet boner joke soon…

This countdown is officially over. Thanks for sticking with me. That’s really the essence of a wedding though, isn’t it? A few hurdles punctuating a steady stream of very happy memories. You take the hurdles in stride, make the very best of the day, and have fun.

Oh, and you cross your fingers in the hope that people don’t hump in the parking lot then brag about it to strangers…

Laaaaaid back

Last weekend was a long weekend of excellence in laid back groovin’ for me. It started off a little rough you know, with a wicked bad hangover on Friday. Thursday night was a company bowling outing that turned into one too many drinks at the bar and maniacal karaoke superstardom. It was really fun though, reminded me of the good old university days. Drunk like no tomorrow, dodging sketchy/sweaty randoms, and laughing til it hurt. I got home at about 3am and slept for 4 hours before hauling my ass into work Friday morning. My boss didn’t come in that day, opting for an extra-long cottage weekend, so needless to say I didn’t lift a goddamn finger all day. I basically sat at my desk moaning in agony until 3:30pm when the next most senior person in charge told us all to go home. Score!

One thing I did do at work though was discover a magical hillbilly version of Snoop Dogg’s Gin and Juice. I know, right? Fucking amazing! Theme song for the weekend, woot woot!

D and I planned to get out of the city and dog/house sit for my aunt and uncle. It was caribana weekend in the city and I had been advised by my fellow Torontonians to get out-of-town if possible. So we packed up our shit, and ran for the hills.

That’s right bitches, for three glorious days D and I would be mad chillin’ poolside with a sweet partaaaay palace at our disposal. The only thing that sucked? Most peeps already had long weekend plans and were out-of-town. So D and I had to pull off some pretty solid partying mostly on our own. We got there in the afternoon on Saturday and it was boiling hot out. First thing on the agenda: swimming! With a healthy dose of sunblock so as not to scorch my delicate and pale complexion I leapt straight off the deep end without looking back.

Saturday nobody was around so D and I had to do the partaaay palace justice. We grabbed some beers and stoogies and lit up on the porch. Ahhhhh! Well on our way to laaaaaaid back perfection:

The next morning we hit up D’s all-time favourite place for breakfast, Bayview Diner. And it is most assuredly the breakfast of all laid-back champions!

Those little home fries/tater-tots are the best fucking things that have ever happened to breakfast. They’re crispy and fluffy at the same time and sprinkled in a tasty spice. Mmmmm mmm, that’s good eats!

Another day of glorious poolside lounging, walking the dog, and kicking it casual. We also had a chance to rock the barbecue for some excellent dinner. We don’t have a barbecue at our apartment so this was something we had to take advantage of. Grilled salmon and veggies anyone?

Don’t let the picture fool you, this salmon was grilled to perfect. A beautiful pink colour, so flaky and tender. Simply put, it was mouth-watering brilliance!

Sunday night was when we were able to assemble a few members of the crew for some drinking. We turned up the beats, tossed back the drinks, and revelled in the fact that we didn’t have to go to work on Monday! Poor Duke though, he was quite tuckered out by it all:

It may not seem like much, but I consider it a smashing success in long weekend relaxing, partying, eating, and playing with our four-legged friend. And for your listening pleasure dear readers, I present you with the sweet cover jam that inspired it all:

Actually, for my country-loving hillbilly fams who may not be familiar with Snoop, you’ll probably actually love this song.

You’re welcome!

Ass Glitter

Okay, let me start off by saying this to my handful of faithful readers: I’m sorry I dropped the ball! I know it’s been a while since my last post, but in my defence it is summertime and I’m popular, yo. When’s a girl on the town like myself to find the time? I don’t know, but I will try to be more routine about this. If you’ve been waiting with bated breath for my newest post, I assure you it is worth the wait. I got lots of goods!

This past Saturday night I threw a bachelorette party for my sister. Not just a bachelorette party though. The best fucking bachelorette party in the entire history of them!!! This shit was off the hook amazing. The hours of prep work, dolla dolla bills spent, and the blisters were totally worth it.

I fucking coloured for this thing guys. I really did dust off the old pencil crayons, sharpen em up and got to scribbling. I looked for sweet banners at party stores but nothing really screamed wild night on the town like the personalized construction paper and pencil crayon masterpiece I crafted:

I also spent a lot of time hollowing out grapefruits for the jell-o shooters, which I will attribute much of the party guest drunkeness to. Those damn things made my fingers reek like citrus for hours afterwards:

AND! The biggest effort on my part yet, I motherfucking baked! That’s right, I dusted off the old spatula and mixed up some delicious penis covered cupcakes with miss simulated frosting, haha:

The best part about the cupcakes is that girls don’t eat! The cupcakes were barely touched, so that left me with a delicious hangover snack for the next day. And anyone who knows me well knows that when I’m hungover I CRAVE sugar more than anything. Paired with a super big gulp orange crush slushie life could not possibly get any better for an old waste case like me.

If there’s such a thing as a Nobel Prize for most hilariously awesome night of ogling men then I would get it. Hands down, because I also went that extra special mile to book a male stripper. That’s right. Even though my last post might make me seem like the worst sister and/or bridesmaid ever, I’d do anything for Mar, mostly. As long as she’s not a bitch about it, kidding!

I got on google, booked a stripper to come to my home, took out an ass huge wad of cash, and wished with all my might that he wouldn’t turn into a serial rapist/robber and we’d all wind up dead because of my stupidity. Thankfully, things turned out as planned! Mostly. There were a few key details that were overlooked that I’m not very happy about. He called me in the afternoon to confirm the details and I was very straight-forward in what I wanted, which didn’t seem to be a problem. He was to be dressed as Elvis, which is hilarious and amazing. If you’re going to have a stripper come to your home he may as well be the Elvis of all strippers right? I got the impression that he was a little nervous or embarrassed about doing Elvis, but suck it the fuck up. If I pay you to cover your ass in butter and shake it in my sister’s face then you’re going to do it with a goddamn smile on.

I outlined exactly what I wanted from the stripper. He was to be dressed as Elvis, strip down to a g-string and nobody would have to actually see his penis. Because that can be awkward right? I didn’t know all of Mar’s friends that were coming and she can be reserved sometimes herself, so I thought I’d play it safe. Pretty much the exact opposite of that happened. He came as a construction worker, wore ugly ass boxer briefs, and didn’t take his jeans off. Oh and also he was wiping his dick out all over the place. I guess maybe you just settle into your routine and don’t stray from it often?

However, making up for the fact that we didn’t get the look/routine we wanted there were some plus points that balanced it out. He was hot. Muscles, deep Vin Disel type of voice, he cracked good jokes and got the girls really into it. He let us take photos, and was generally a pretty cool dude. If he had shown up looking like Danny Devito and then didn’t do the Elvis thing for us, we might have had a big problem on our hands. But it’s not often a girl in a committed relationship gets to check out some fresh wang in person without the possibility of getting into serious trouble. Well worth the dent in my bank account.

And best thing ever! Joce-force!!! When you let that whole handful of loonies trickle down into his jeans pocket I thought I was going to die. That was pretty much the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen you do. And this is coming from a long history of me seeing you do hilarious and amazing things. Hats off to you my friend, that was a classy move!

We laughed, we drank, we danced, we met cute boys, and overall had a really rad time. Mar won’t be running off with the ripper anytime soon despite what it looks like in the photos. Which, I’m not posting here for the sake of preserving Mar’s ladylike reputation. I’ll save that shit for my Facebook page, all privatized and whatnot.

Long before the party though when I was initially doing my stripper research the boyfriend wasn’t too pleased knowing full well that the performance would be happening in our apartment. He grumbled about it every time the subject of the bachelorette came up. But a few nights before the party, I think in an effort to make peace with the whole thing D just said to me, “Whatever. Just make sure there isn’t ass glitter all over the couch when I get home.” And I delivered on my promise didn’t I darling?

We’re back, baby!

I apologize in advance for the length of this post. I’ve got a lot to say this week folks!

There are too many awesome things to celebrate about this past weekend. So many awesome things that all fall under the wonderful umbrella that I call being ‘back in action’.

It takes a while to settle in to your new digs and I consider myself officially settled! As of this weekend there was not a single significant thing that needed to be done with the apartment. This made me completely free to focus all of my energy on my sorely neglected partying habits.

There’s only one thing that sucked the fucking big one this weekend, the fact that the elevator in our building was NOT working from Friday afternoon right up until Monday during the day. When you’re planning a big weekend bender and you live on the 24th floor, nothing could be more ill-timed than the elevator losing it’s crucial ability to propel your drunk ass up to your bed.

Two major events that we celebrated: Joss and Harry are back in town after their trip to Thailand and Sara’s birthday extravaganza. Let’s breakdown the madness, shall we?

Friday night: Joss and Harry’s Homecoming Partaaay!

I was living for Friday night all week long. There’s nothing that anticipation does better than draw the motherfucking shit out of the work week. I ever so impatiently counted down the days while the happy travellers were away, and although I loved following Joss’s sweet travel blog every week, you just can’t beat the real thing! 5 o’clock on Friday finally rolls around and I basically sprinted out the door to the subway. I get on the train and I can feel my whole body thrumming with excitement. There’s a short delay at the station and I get a text from D telling me about the elevator situation. He advises me to “take your time, it’s a real workout!”

That’s just fucking great. It’s sweltering hot out, I’m wearing tight jeans, and now I’ve gotta climb 24 flights of stairs? Fuck that shit!

And of course I’m cocky about it. Telling myself, “oh whatever, I walk all the time, I’ll be fine.” Famous last words, right? Somewhere between the 7th and 8th floors in a spell of light-headed surrender I  shoot off a desperate text to the Magpie telling her that I might die in a stairwell this weekend. (Oh P.S. I have a cell phone now. I wasn’t really going to mention, but I thought maybe the fact-checking types aka my two, if that, readers might wonder since I boastfully went on about not having one in an earlier post).

I managed to huff and puff my way to my floor eventually, and I was miserable at the thought of having to climb them again later in a drunken stupor. That was really going to blow! But, as shitty as it was I was not going to miss this party for the world!

We get to the party and it is just the best! Amazing people and booze, it’s a winning combination. Catching up, hearing the stories, seeing the pictures and being reunited with all my BFFs… Life doesn’t get any better than that.

The best part about it is that we were all together again. I can’t remember the last time since graduation that the four of us: Joss, Sar, Karan, and myself were all committed to the same event. And not just that, but everyone was committed for tomorrow night too!!!! YAAYY!

I’m a total energy sponge. Whatever the mood and tone of the party, I soak it right up and reflect it back. If the vibes are bad, I can’t possibly have a good time. And the vibes at this party were off the charts! My face and stomach hurt from smiling and laughing the night away. Fuck chicken soup for the soul, it’s good times with your friends for the soul, people. Does it every time.

The above used to happen ALL the time. And I thought it would last forever. But times change and so does your life. I may not see these guys as much as I want to, so on those rare occasions when the stars align and we all RSVP “yes” to the same event you know it’s going to be a friggen blast. You make me so happy!

Downed a bunch of drinks and shots, laughed my ass off, and stumbled home with a nice black spot in my brain where the final events of the night are resigned to obscurity. Friday night was a major success! Welcome home Joss and Harry, you were very much missed. And that’s only half of it…

Saturday night: Sara’s Birthday Extravaganza!

Saturday morning was the fucking pits! Oh my good god, I was hung over. I stayed horizontal on the couch until about 3:00pm. That’s when the hurt in my brain started to subside enough that I could make it to the shower. No matter what, it was round 2 and I had to find a way to put myself together again.

Everyone was pre-drinking in Bolton and then getting in a party limo headed to Club Muzik in T.Dot. D and I planned to pre-drink with Joss and Harry and meet everyone else there.

Long before Saturday night when my weekend plans were revealed to my co-workers, I was met with some slight derision when I mentioned where we were going. I guess it wasn’t the “coolest” or “trendiest” or whatever the fuck criteria are considered desirable by the “locals”. Whatever. That’s what the birthday girl wants and that’s what she gets, and damned if we’re going to go about it with a bad attitude.

So we head to the club, and the cab ride was ridiculously fun because of a crazy cabbie from Bangladesh who regaled us with tales of hit and runs back home. Apparently it’s really common for a cab driver to just mow someone down and keep on trucking without a backwards glance. I didn’t really get the joke, but I guess you had to be there?

We waited in a bullshit line for what felt like eternity, and by the time it got moving D had run off to piss in an alley because he couldn’t hold it any longer. But luckily he caught up in time and got in. There was some more initial bullshit what with the bartenders serving us bottles of beer with no mention that bottles couldn’t be taken out to the garden. Seriously? Then pour the fucking beer in a plastic cup when you serve it bitch, damn!

The one server was a real biz-nitch. When we first got there I stood at the bar for what seemed like ages waiting to order a drink. The server blew right past me and beelined it for our friend John. She leaned her pathetically under-developed chest on the counter and shamelessly asked what he’d like. And John, true champ that he is told her “I’d like you to serve my friend, she was here first”.

If he hadn’t of done that I don’t know when I’d have been noticed. Muchos gracias, John! If there’s any chance that you’re reading this Lisa, you’ve got a great husband and you guys were so cute together at the club. And also, it was Lisa’s birthday too… so happy birthday lady!

D quickly remedied the beer bottles problem by pilfering some plastic cups. And after a few jagerbombs, tubies, and various other shots it didn’t seem to matter much anymore.

The club itself was fucking sweet! Maybe the crowd are a bunch of losers from Mississauga, but the space was really nice. I didn’t feel crowded or overheated at all. The music wasn’t so loud that you couldn’t talk to your friends, and the garden outside was so refreshing! I’d say they’ve got a pretty killer venue.

And again, I’ve got to say that the best part was being together with Joss, Sara, and Karan in a club. We used to club it up ALL the time in our Waterloo days. And I’m not a big club person by any means, but a small part of me did miss it.

One of our friends got a little too drunk and went down for the count. But it wasn’t just a toss her in the cab and send her home situation. The majority of the group was headed back home together in the party limo. So we needed a plan to keep things going for everyone else.

I might also mention at this point that I wore high heels… ALL night! I am murdering my high heels resolution, so yayy me! The last time I wore high heels to a club was because I needed to heighten for my fake I.D., so a helluva long time ago!

My feet were killing and needed a break. I wanted the party to keep going for the birthday girl, so I volunteered to babysit for a bit. I got to sit down, and just let our girl Felish rest. Bouncers were obviously on the lookout for those kinds of scenarios though, so I got a little crafty. When Felish’s head tumbled onto my chest, I let it stay there and just told the peeps that I was getting free motorboats!! Boo-yaaaah!

Worked out pretty well too!

When everyone was finally ready to call it a night, we made sure the party peeps was safely piled into the limo and then hopped our own cab home.

It was an exhausting, but exhilarating weekend! I have some really wicked friends, and my only hope is that we get together and pull these kinds of weekends off a lot more this summer.

Monday morning came on like a ton of bricks, but you know what they say. Time flies when you’re wiping someone else’s puke off your lap!