Seeing as how our company is lame, Cubemate and I decided to crash her fiance’s work pubcrawl for the second time around. We’re both really competitive, it’s kinda scary. Anyway, the team gathered at 3 p.m., bearing delicious pre-drink foods to keep ourselves on top of the game. Boy, we were determined to win this year…no getting distracted by Jagerbombs and leaving our bag of supplies in a bar.
We were a good team: the boys could drink themselves under the table, three of us girls were competitively trying to kick ass, and the other two women were more or less non-drinkers who got extremely outgoing after a few drinks. When it came down to the bonus points, like doing the worm across the bar, we sent those folks in like soldiers in battle. Glorious.
We ended up collecting all the items on the list and finishing first, WAY before the deadline of 9 p.m. We totally kicked ass. One of the bartenders at a bar we visited happened to be my friend, so he went out of his way to collect a bunch of stuff. So then we kinda sat around scratching our heads and wondering what to do next.
“Drink?” someone suggested.
And we did.
We didn’t win. The mission of the crawl was to collect as many items on the list as possible, and then wracking up bonus points by doing ridiculous shit, like singing at Karaoke Kops. So, despite our obvious awesomeness, we lost. LOST. I didn’t actually care at that point; according to the tally on my shirt, I was on beer number 10.
Then it was off to Howie’s birthday party, me still dressed in my pubcrawl uniform and covered in glow-sticks. I was a walking rave party, it was awesome. Unfortunately, I was also significantly more hammered than everyone. But I had it under control, was totally cool and suave. Tried to unbutton a guy’s shirt, had a religious discussion, hung out with my best friend’s ex-boyfriend I haven’t seen in three years.
We all headed to Dusk, where I ran into a guy from my second year of university. I had a big crush on him back in the day; he was all hardcore and troubled and pensive. I told him this. We made out. Our love affair was fugacious, but he has my phone number. He’s also the most incredibly metro guy I’ve ever met, but I kinda blacked out when he kissed me on account of his lip piercing.
Anyway, I eventually found TOR and we went home. I was incredibly competent for someone who had been drinking for TWELVE HOURS. I slept like a baby.
This is going to be one hell of a week. I just came home from pickle making with the Rangers group, had supper at 10 p.m. and just hopped out of the shower. The rest of the week I’m juggling my time between the gym and volunteering with the Women’s Film Festival…I luckily got signed up for the opening and closing parties, yay me! The greatest part is that I’m actually signed up as a writer, so I’m writing for Signal Blog, St. John’s official blog. I also signed myself up for the sex toy show on Wednesday. I figure if I can’t turn that into a good story, I may as well quit my job.