Dinner With a View

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Raise your hand if you've been thrown from a moving vehicle

Imagine both my hands extendend straight up in the air, waving furiously. I went out tonight with my friends who I now lovingly refer to as the Shmu Cru. The earlier portion of the evening is a whole other escapade filled with skanks which may be revealed later. However, for now we will be discussing the drive home. As we we came upon a red light, the driver (completely sober I want to add because being safe is cool) yells, "Chinese fire drill". Two other ladies and myself get out of the car and run around and begin to re-enter. I run from one side of the back seat, behind the car, to the other side. I dive in. My upper body lands in the seat. Just as I begin to crawl completely into place, I feel a jerk. My first thought was, "how funny, the driver is playing a joke." That thought quickly disappeared as I watched the car speed away and I remained lying on the pavement, stunned. Apparently, a rule I never learned about Chinese fire drills is the last person gets left behind. If only I had known, I wouldn't have been sitting in the middle of the street with road rash on my palms and knees trying to figure out exactly what the hell happened to make me go from halfway on a soft back seat to a hard asphalt landing watching two red tail lights speed away. The driver, did not realize what had happened, and in his defense would not have ever purposely done such a thing. I hope. Luckily, there was no oncoming traffic, and the car behind us was in our party. I hopped in with them and rode merrily all the way home, laughing hysterically like a hyena about the events that had just progressed. My friends in the Chinese Fire Drill vehicle apologized profusely and made sure I was okay, but I figured falling out of the car is a much better story than just running around it in a circle.

A Lesson For You

I realize most people aren't as excited as I am when it comes to the sport of track and field, but everyone should know who Steve Prefontaine is, arguably the greatest American distance runner who died before he could completely prove it. And if you don't know about his running feats, then you should have at least heard about him by the fact that there have been two major movies made about him, or maybe you've heard of Nike, the company his coach began. Yesterday, we had a going away party for one of the kids I coach and we gave him a Pre poster with his most famous quote ("to give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift" - oh so true) on it. The recipient looked at it and said, "who's that?" He gets off for not knowing about Pre because he is young, and he is a sprinter. But now I have informed you all who Pre is so you won't make the same embarassing mistake.

"You're more than just a post man,"

is what the lady in front of me in the mail line said to our building's post man today. I wanted to reach up and slap her off her high horse. Let me explain, or rather let me shed some more light on the situation. If you don't know why such a comment would entice me to want to slap decency into another person, than perhaps you too, also need a smack. I work in a building downtown and all the offices in my building and a couple nearby buildings get their mail from the 8th floor of my building. The guy who gives us our mail is probably the best human being I've ever been in contact with. Everyone walks away, mail in tow, with smiles on their faces. He is one of those people that make others say, "if everyone was like him, the world would have no problems" (except what to do with all the warm fuzzies). Anyway, I just hate it when people think they are better than others, and she obviously thinks she is supreme to postal workers and probably most others she comes across in her daily routine (you're more than just a banker, a beautician, a secretary, a company president, a security guard, a child's teacher, a parking lot attendant, a human being). And since she is an Oklahoman idiot (not saying I'm better than her or Oklahoman idiots though), she thought she was giving a compliment. Stepping off my soap box...now.

Always a bridesmaid...

This past weekend one of my best friends tied the knot. It was a fun, three-day wedding extravaganza starting with a bachelorette party on Thursday night. I was a bridesmaid, and part of my duties included planning the party. We had a casino themed party since the honey moon is in Las Vegas. We didn't hire a stripper, but we did hire a limo driver, who for a brief moment of horror, the bride thought was a stripper. And although it was not my duty as a bridesmaid, I successfully managed to fall on the dance floor and have my dress come up over my hips, exposing my nether regions (I was wearing a thong). So yeah, I was that girl at the wedding. Luckily, not very many people saw and it happened way after my speech. Let's just hope the videographer missed it. The wedding was really beautiful and a lot of fun. I'm really happy for my friend. Three weddings down, three more to go this year.

Penis antlers are becoming a necessity for our bachelorette parties.


Kate demonstrating how to play a raunchy bachelorette game.


Navigator limos are the way to go!


This is how ballers roll.


Instead of doing something like wearing candy and saying "suck for a buck", we sold condoms to drunk people. I sold mine for $20. I'm thinking of changing my career to sales now.


Introducing Mr. and Mrs. White.


It was hot in the church, so I stood over a vent whenever possible.


All of the girls.


Amanda was the matron of honor, a term she did not care for.


Friend and friend.


How did duck face get in here?


Me and the Whites.


Bridesmaid rumble.

Fireworks, A One-eyed Dog, and Viva Italia!

White Trash(bag window)

If you have ever planned on robbing me, now would be the perfect time. I say this because my key is stuck in my front door, so I can't lock it unless I'm inside, and I have a white trash bag in place of one of my front windows. Cla-ah-ssy. Yesterday, I was leaving my apartment and went to lock my door as always, but when I started to turn the key back to its upright position in order for me to remove it from its key hole, it just stopped turning. In either direction. I could not get it to budge a nanometer. I went to my neighbor for help. He annoys me enough with his loud Irish music playing at inappropriate times, so I decided to give him a chance to redeem himself, which he blew...horribly. He can't get the key out either, but in his efforts he bent my key chain worse than [enter really gay person here]. Well, I'm locked out. I need to open my window to get in my apartment and unlock my door. My neighbor "helps". His help turned into him busting my front window to pieces. He then reveals to me that he has been out drinking and is smashed. Awesome. But not as awesome as the fact that some of the glass from the window landed in cat diarrhea that was hiding behind my chair. Apparently, my cat had diarrhea and decided not to use the litter box. I would have been embarrassed, but I have no shame. Plus, this wasn't Hot Neighbor, this was Annoying Drunk Neighbor being overly helpful. I pick up the pieces of glass, and the cat excrement, and then tape a trash bag over the hole where my window was.



Meanwhile, my neighbor takes my lock apart to try and get the key out. He shares that he used to steal and this was an easy task, followed with an "I like your place." Nice. He still can't get the key out. I realize I am going to have to wait to call my landlord since it was a holiday and will just have to risk leaving my place unlocked and having a trash bag window. There was only one thing left to do...



...DANCE, DANCE REVOLUTION!!

(If you want to rob me, however, you will have to do it tonight. Tomorrow I'm getting a new lock and window. Well, I guess you could rob me anytime, but if you want to rob me while only a trash bag is your barrier, then you have to do it tonight. Also, my neighbor felt bad and brought me over a 6-pack of Pabst and 4 bottles of Bass (don't steal all of those if you rob me - leave me something to drown my sorrows in once I find out I've been robbed). A nice gesture, but now I am expecting to hear some loud annoying Irish music blaring through my walls in the next few days. Thank goodness I am moving into a house next month.)

(Oh, I almost forgot to warn those who might be considering robbing me. My neighbor also said that if someone does try to break in while I'm home, I can just bang on the wall and he'll come running over with his battle ax. That's right, a battle ax. I think I'd rather be shot than chopped, but if it's a risk your willing to take...
Thank goodness I am moving into a house next month.)

Taking it back to the old school

This past weekend I went to Fayetteville. There were a lot of blasts from my past there, and we all got together for the usual: swimming, drinking, eating, playing on swingsets, flying rocket ships, coming up with brilliant ideas such as maps made of icing and cake, and so on and so forth.

You might think that if you jump off a diving board with a rocket, you can fly to the moon, but you can't. You just break your friend's nephew's inflatable pool rocket.


This man is going to be a doctor.


People who leave this area always want to eat at Chic-Fil-A when they return, so we piled in the Sat and went, where Zane got his sandwich on a "golden wheat bun" instead of a regular one. It's really not as funny now as it was when he ordered it.



I grew bunny ears that look like human fingers.


Ha, ha, phone sex. Get it?


There is a picture taking game that is fun to play. Right before you take a picture, shout out an emotion or situation, and the people in the picture have to act it out instantly. This is "despair".


And this is, "I just lost my virginity!" Hahaha.


You probably think this is "mildly angry", but it's not. I give you, "confused".


Swinging.


Joel can flip.


It really was a great weekend and I love how close and well kept in touch some of my high school friends still are. I know weekends like these will become more rare as we get older, which makes me a little sad, but I guess that is just how life goes.

But, thank goodness for MySpace, or we may have lost touch years ago.