NaBloPoMo-a-gogo
Here we are again, Day 1 of the third year I am participating in NaBloPoMo. For those uninitiated, it's 30 straight days of posting in November. Which usually results in serious malaise around, oh say Nov. 5, and then I just throw content up without much thought for the rest of the month.
But aren't you looking forward to that? Unthoughtful content, all the time! It's my new tagline.
I am currently typing this from the passenger seat of my vehicle while Josh pulls a quick nap before we head into a wedding reception in Milwaukee. This is dedication, my friends.
So my story for today involves my Halloween from yesterday. After Trick or Treat, Josh and I headed out to dinner with friend/reader Ed and two other friends. During dinner, Ed told us he wanted to head out to a party. A house party. At an apartment.
Oh dear lord. If you know anything about me, it's that I hate dressing up for Halloween and I hate house parties. I am 34 years old and way too old to be drinking out of a cup in the living room of someone I don't know with 100 people who are probably 10 years younger than me.
So we go to this party. Josh and I are not wearing costumes. Someone asks what I am and I glare and reply, "A MILF." Classy.
We grab a beer, I mouth to Josh, "I HATE THIS" and he smiles and drinks from his cup. Bottoms up! I wander outside to the deck, where there is a Beer Pong tournament and an ice luge for shots. I head back inside and see a couple completely making out in the corner. I am not sure she was wearing anything under her costume. Eww.
Upon finally leaving, we pile into a cab and head for a bar that I have not been to since my very first days in Chicago. TEN YEARS AGO. Josh remarked it was the first bar he ever went to in Chicago. And we are here why? Oh right -- our friends want to meet SINGLE CHICKS.
Again, I am 34. Not single. A mom of two. Definitely NOT my scene. Then I find we have to wait in line. This sends me over the edge. In a moment I am not proud of, Ed asks we what's wrong and I scream, "What's wrong is I am standing in line at fucking TIN LIZZIE."
It was one of those movie moments where the crowd goes silet, so your voice is the only thing people for miles around can hear and everyone just stares. The doorman wryly tells me, "No one is forcing you to be here, you know." My husband, the man who vowed to stay with me through good times and through bad, says, "Maybe you should leave then."
I jump out of the line, cross the street and get in a taxi. I head home. Where I then have sit shivering on the porch steps for 10 minutes -- without a coat -- because I forgot my keys. Not my finest moment as an adult, I must admit.
Moral of the story: don't go out with me on Halloween. I am a barrel of laughs.
But aren't you looking forward to that? Unthoughtful content, all the time! It's my new tagline.
I am currently typing this from the passenger seat of my vehicle while Josh pulls a quick nap before we head into a wedding reception in Milwaukee. This is dedication, my friends.
So my story for today involves my Halloween from yesterday. After Trick or Treat, Josh and I headed out to dinner with friend/reader Ed and two other friends. During dinner, Ed told us he wanted to head out to a party. A house party. At an apartment.
Oh dear lord. If you know anything about me, it's that I hate dressing up for Halloween and I hate house parties. I am 34 years old and way too old to be drinking out of a cup in the living room of someone I don't know with 100 people who are probably 10 years younger than me.
So we go to this party. Josh and I are not wearing costumes. Someone asks what I am and I glare and reply, "A MILF." Classy.
We grab a beer, I mouth to Josh, "I HATE THIS" and he smiles and drinks from his cup. Bottoms up! I wander outside to the deck, where there is a Beer Pong tournament and an ice luge for shots. I head back inside and see a couple completely making out in the corner. I am not sure she was wearing anything under her costume. Eww.
Upon finally leaving, we pile into a cab and head for a bar that I have not been to since my very first days in Chicago. TEN YEARS AGO. Josh remarked it was the first bar he ever went to in Chicago. And we are here why? Oh right -- our friends want to meet SINGLE CHICKS.
Again, I am 34. Not single. A mom of two. Definitely NOT my scene. Then I find we have to wait in line. This sends me over the edge. In a moment I am not proud of, Ed asks we what's wrong and I scream, "What's wrong is I am standing in line at fucking TIN LIZZIE."
It was one of those movie moments where the crowd goes silet, so your voice is the only thing people for miles around can hear and everyone just stares. The doorman wryly tells me, "No one is forcing you to be here, you know." My husband, the man who vowed to stay with me through good times and through bad, says, "Maybe you should leave then."
I jump out of the line, cross the street and get in a taxi. I head home. Where I then have sit shivering on the porch steps for 10 minutes -- without a coat -- because I forgot my keys. Not my finest moment as an adult, I must admit.
Moral of the story: don't go out with me on Halloween. I am a barrel of laughs.
Labels: It's all about me, NaBloPoMo
posted by Amy at
5:24 PM
5 Comments:
I think I was tired of the bar scene after about the first 10 minutes I was ever in a bar...which incidentally was for a Mullet Contest. And no, I was not competing in the contest. I was just an observer.
House parties got old after the time someone puked on my shoes.
Of course I think I'd like both things better if I actually bothered to get drunk. But I have a thing about public intoxication...
You crack me up!
Ha! Tin Lizzie. I was going to guess you were at Ravens.
Ew, there are few things worse than the Tin Lizze on a normal night, much less on Halloween!
Hahahaha! Your description of the party reminded me of every college fiesta I attended, even the girl in costume. ;)
Looking forward to 30 days of nonsense.
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