I love summer. I love leaving my bedroom window open in the evenings, and hearing George Street rocking out at all hours of the night. Every night. Sunday nights.
My best friend was in town for part of the weekend. Our text convo in the hours before our reunion went something like this:
Me: “I can’t wait to see you.”
Her: “I need to drink my face off.”
Me: “We are getting so fucked up.”
Her: “I want to drink until I pass out.”
And so on…which is pretty much exactly what happened.
We went to a hotel party to celebrate Lenus’ graduation, but shortly thereafter were kicked out. I have no idea why, it was pretty much the tamest hotel party I’ve ever been involved in. Nobody got naked, we didn’t fill up the hot tub, and nobody got any action. Well, unless you count this:
So then we ended up at Dusk, again, my latest destination of choice. And since lately I’ve turned into an arrogant asshole, I figured I would hit on anything that walked. So I did, mostly at the bar, which ended up with me shooting tequila shots bought from a guy who disappeared the moment the shot was placed on the bar. Wtf? He groped my bum later on the dance floor, it was sensual.
Long story short, I didn’t get out of bed until 5 p.m. the next day, and had to be at KJax’s house to make t-shirts and to prepare for ALANARAMA, the ultimate surprise party.
Shit, so I just gave out a name on my blog. Don’t sue me, k? The name of the event is very important.
Anyway, Alana didn’t suspect a thing, so when 13 or 14 of us jumped out at her from the rooftop deck we were hiding on, she had to sit down to collect herself. We were all wearing these kickass t-shirts with her face on them:
Instead of her having a relaxing evening, we ended up making sure she was hammered and having a proper send-off. The girls actually threw her a faux “going away” sociable the previous evening, which I couldn’t make because of J-Nurse’s visit. And to keep up with the scheme, they called during their shindig to make me feel terrible for skipping out on the farewell party, those rascally bitches.
Successful party, great friends, shots of whiskey! I love life. Not to mention doing the robot anytime a car drove past me on the way to George Street.