We started at Texas Roadhouse, home of throwing peanut shells on the floor. Also home to a delicious frozen margarita. I sipped on my margarita and ate french fries covered in love handles (might as well have been) while I caught up with five girlfriends I hadn't seen in years. The first fifteen minutes of conversation went a little something like this:
Girlfriend #1: Sara, do you remember that time you called me your Mexican Boyfriend at that party and then we called each other that for the rest of the year? LOL
Me: Um... it sounds kind of familiar, but....
Girlfriend #2: Oh man! Hey Sara, remember when you rapped What Would You Do by City High in Mr. Hayden's English class, except you had to skip over that part about being raped and Mr. Hayden got mad at you?
Me: Oh, ha ha, uh.... sure?
What the fuck, y'all? Was I stoned my entire high school career? I have no memory of these stories, and they were about me.
*Aside: I didn't smoke or drink in high school. I was pretty much the most awesome kid ever. You're welcome, Mom.
*Aside Again: This is further evidenced by the fact that when I saw someone downtown later that night who I hadn't seen since ninth grade, his first response was, "I would never have expected to see YOU out here, that's for sure." How else can you answer to that, besides saying, "Yep, I'm just an alcohol-swilling, Bible-burning baby-aborting pillhead now.... who would have thought?" Dick.
After one margarita at the restaurant, we had all planned on heading downtown, AKA DoucheCentral. But one of the girls we were with heard about a house party close by. This house party would be filled to the brim with even more people I haven't seen since high school. Obviously, this sounded like a shitload of fun. (Note: Not.) But since I'm usually a Champion Couch Potato, I decided to just go along for the ride.
We arrived at this bangin' house party, and it was poppin', y'all. And by poppin', I mean that we pulled in the driveway at the same moment the hosts of this house party pulled into the driveway. Also? They had one bottle of liquor and one case of beer.
Taaka Vodka and Bud Lite.
Enough said, right?
I relived my freshman year of college and took a shot of Taaka, hoping that one shot might make me forget where I was, for fear that I might start weeping at the lameness of it all.
I am entirely too damn old to be at a house party like this.
I am way too fucking old to be shooting Taaka.
I need to get the fuck out of..... WAITAFUCKINGSECOND.
"WHAT. IS. THIS?" I practically yelled at my friend, as I noticed the most amazing thing I'd ever seen on a fridge before. (Besides the flyer for the local eatery Double D Ranch that is currently residing on my fridge at home.)
|HO. LY. SHIT.|
After laughing hysterically at the Christmas card, I turned around and realized just how uncomfortable this house party really was. The guests included us girls and.... the host. The awkward silence loomed over us, while my friend and I made "wtfarewedoinghere" eyes at each other.
"Uh.... I'll be outside smoking."
Smoking may be a dirty, dirty habit, but it really is the best excuse to get yourself away from uncomfortable situations.
While I was outside doing my dirty cancer thing, one of my friends came outside.
Friend #1: I didn't know you smoked!
Me: Um, wow. We really haven't seen each other in a while, huh?
Friend #1: So do you inhale when you smoke?
Me: Is that a real question? I mean, uh, yes.
Friend #1: I've only ever tried a cigarette once....... *hinty eyes*
Me: Oh really? Hm, that's interesting. *ignoring hinty eyes*
Friend #1: Yeah, I think I kind of liked it a little bit maybe. I would probably have to try again to know for sure. *YELLING EYES*
Me: Ahem. Cough. *'please stop yelling at me with your eyes' eyes*
Friend #1: Could I try?
Sigh. Guys, I've become that person.
|Stay strong, Steph! These bitches will wrinkle up way faster than you, gurl.|
"Everyone else is smoking, you'll look totally cool, boys will like you, INFECT YOUR LUNGS WITH CANCER, BISH."
*Aside: Nobody panic about me turning a friend into a black lung participant. This girl is not going to start smoking all the time, swearsies.
I handed her a cigarette, and she held it away from her and lit the tip of it with the lighter. (*giggle* I'll admit that I found it kind of cute that she had no clue how to light a cigarette.) After showing her what to do (devil's work), she started smoking and actually managed not to cough while doing it. If you've ever seen a new smoker smoke a cigarette, you know how awkward they look doing it. I noticed her glancing at me out of the corner of her eye to follow my movements when I inhaled, ashed, or just stood holding it. (Again, I know it's bad, but it was pretty funny. It felt very much like a high school flashback.)
Moments later, another friend walked outside.
Friend #2: You two look so classy smoking your cigarettes!
Sigh. GUYS. I DID NOT START THIS. Stopjudgingme.
Friend #2: Can I try?
Me: Oh, goddamnit.
Are there any old ladies who need help crossing the street? Turtles flipped upside down who need to be turned over? Seriously, my karma points have to be in the negatives by now.
This friend erupted into a fit of coughs after one tiny drag.
Me: "And that's why smoking is bad for you."
(See? Saving lives here, y'all.)
On our way back inside the house, the two dogs (featured above) were acting like fucking insane beasts. I told the girls that we should try to run inside quickly, so the dogs would stay outside and quit trying to goose everyone. The dogs had both been outside when we arrived to the party, so we figured the host couldn't be too angry with us for trying to avoid their cold noses.
Except that the dogs escaped. And judging from the Christmas card and the framed photographs of these golden retrievers all over the house, someone was going to be pretty upset to return home to no dogs. These people would probably be less upset if they lost their children, for God's sake.
The host quickly ran outside when he discovered the dogs were missing, and that is when we chose to leave and go to a bar. We're classy like that.
To Be Continued... because one post just isn't enough to make fun of the douches I met Saturday night.