Oh Sweet Nectar

Brooke brought to my attention yesterday that I haven't blogged in a while. Well, she's right. I haven't blogged in a while. And this morning I was supposed to be at work at 8 am. Well, I came in at 9. Cause I hit the bar a little too hard last night. Makes me think of the first time I got plastered (in college). So here it is. In all of it's entirety.

Three years ago, I was attending, Temple University in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I also decided that it would be a good idea to pledge a sorority my first semester freshman year. And we all know what the leads to, binge drinking and promiscuous sex. Sex, I didn't fall into that so much. Drinking, however, I fell into that like it was a swimming pool of beer and I was balancing myself on the edge. It was fabulous. I still love it to this day. But hell, this was underage drinking. There was an aura to it. There was a sense of danger, if I got caught, I'd get into a lot of trouble. I liked that feeling. I wanted to have it all the time. So here's my story:

It's the second or third week at school, I rushed, got into Delta Zeta. It's a Saturday night. Since it's still early in the semester, you're still hanging out with all the people who live on your floor and in your building. I'm with maybe 5 or 6 people from my dorm, and we're walking up and down Broad Street looking for a party. It's a blackout night for frats, which means that they can't party at all, since they just took pledges. So Saturday night, we're 18, that means there's nothing to do. We could go out to Penn or Drexel, but who wants to pay for a cab?

While walking on Broad Street, one of my new sisters comes up to me, asks me what I'm doing, to which I naively reply, "I'm looking for a party." She looks at me and laughs at me a little bit, (come on, one look at me screamed Freshman) and tells me to come with her to her apartment. So I go. There is drinking, sisters, everything. We're drinking beer, doing shots, everything. All of a sudden, the hard liquor runs out, fine you know, cause there's still a keg, but a bunch of us were doing shots. One of my sisters, Anita, says, "there's no more vodka, but I do have that home made liquor that Christine left here." We take it out and basically start doing shots of moonshine. Shot after shot after shot. Finally, around 3am I stumble home. My roommate went home for the weekend, but she IMs me as soon as I take off my away message. Her name was Stef. This is how the conversation roughly went:

S: How was your night?
A: giood, i drianke a littike
S: What?
(two minutes later)
A: I drank
A: I don't feel so well
S: Don't throw up in the room, my parents are coming tomorrow.
A: Okay.
(15 minutes later)
S: Alli, you okay?
A: I threw up a little.
S: WHERE?
A: Well, remember when we got the newspaper the other day, and we left it on the floor?
S: Yeh...
A: Good thing it was there. Cause I'm like a puppy, train me and I'll go on the paper.
S: ALLI ! THE ROOM IS GOING TO SMELL !! My parents are coming !!
A: It was just a little, I made it to the bathroom. I already threw out the paper, washed the spot with bleach, and febreezed the whole room. No one will know anything.
S: Where did you learn all this?
A: Elementary, my dear Stefani. Elementary.


I swear that's how the conversation went. Because I have it saved on my computer. I'm so slick and suave, and I can throw up on the paper.

So yeh. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

PS: Halloween party tonight !!

This Is Dedicated to the One, The Only, Lynn Gallo

Ever wonder what it's like to be tortured? Well, become acquainted with Lynn Gallo. She'll email you at work, she'll tell you to call her, then acted annoyed that you did. She'll tell you that you suck, then she'll tell you that you owe her a million dollars because she doesn't like the same baseball team that you do. This is what it's like to NOT work for Lynn Gallo. Because, she's NOT MY BOSS!! We don't even work in the same proximity of another.

Granted, knowing Lynn has it's perks. She tells you her way cool Halloween costume, and about things that she likes to do in her spare time. But then, she'll tell you you're invited places, BUT DOESN'T INVITE YOU ANYWHERE, when you invite her to your way cool Halloween party.

Lynn Gallo is bad news. She can micromanage you from across 4 towns. I don't know where she contracted these horrible super powers, but she has them, and I'm just letting you know to beware. I think she's a littl evil. Plus, she smells a little.

I've Got No Ideas for a Title

This is in response to Amanda's latest post on her blog. Please visit Blonde Girl to see what I am referring to.

Okay, I'm not one to judge anyone. But I totally disagree with her post. Not just because this particular boy in question is an EXTREMELY good friend of mine. But every now and then things happen. A little background, this guy who Amanda went out with in actuality is really shy. It was a big deal for him to call her. And despite the fact that he really wanted to go out with her, there was a lot of coaxing to be done in order for him to build up the confidence to call her.

Also, for the not knowing where they are going, I've been on many a date where the guy asked me to hang out and I've had to chose the restaurant. Not because I'm a controlling little bitch, but because guys are extremely indecisive. It has nothing to do with the fact that he didn't know what do, but merely with the fact that he was so nervous he didn't want to suggest a place where she didn't want to go. He was trying to be considerate. Not everyone has Herculean confidence, and little things can sometimes be really hard to do.

I think I'm going to take this point by point, so heading onto number 2. If someone used to be an ex-drug dealer, you know what that probably wasn't one of their proudest moments. But say that they kept this a secret? Would you want to know in the beginning, or let's say you get serious and something comes up down the line. Would you rather be shocked and betrayed after you've been with them so long, or know in the beginning and although you might not like it, have the chance to get over it and not judge them on their past, but look at what they are doing now?

Number 3: This goes back to being nervous. When I'm nervous, I blab on and on and on and on about the things that I know about. Maybe that's what this kid felt like what going on. You don't know. I don't know if anyone has ever seen a picture of Amanda, but she's an extremely pretty girl. If I were a guy who were out on a date with her, and I hadn't known her for very long. I'd be nervous and end up talking about the things I know something about. I know absolutely NOTHING about cars. I've been on dates where the guys talk about cars and nothing but cars for the entire time we're together. I've been on a date where in the middle of December, it's freezing out, and this kid and I are driving, someone with a nice car pulls up along side of him, they proceed to drag race down this road. Then at the stop light, rolls down, MY window and asks the kid what kind of engine is in it. How's that for inconsiderate? Also, I ended up dating him for 9 months.

Number 4: The only thing I have to say for this is that if someone was against drinking, would you expect your date not to have a drink? I mean they aren't making you do it, so what's the problem. I don't know, I just have problems with judgement on someone has different interests than you. Even though they are illegal, what's the problem.

Number 5: This is inexcusable. I mean come on, a drunk person is NEVER fun. Especially on a date, unless I am one of the drunk people, then the night inevitably gets more exciting. But I do agree with Amanda on this one.

Now, just to say one last thing. I didn't write this blog to say that I think Amanda should give this guy another chance. If she didn't like him, then I'm no one to force her to go out with him again. But my intention was to say that just because you don't like something, doesn't mean that other people don't like it. Granted, drugs are a bad bad thing, but you know what, everyone has their vices, and if they chose that, then that's fine. But oh well, what can I do? I vented. Just so you know, this kid, despite a lingering drug habit is one of the nicest, sweetest, kindest people that I know.

Come on kids, let me have it. I know it's coming.

Once Upon A Time...

Long long ago, in a place far faraway, there was a little girl who needed a friend at a Christmas party. Enter, Neal. Neal is the best kinda friend who you only see at Christmas parties and weddings a girl could ever. This is about all of the wonders of Neal. And believe me, there are many.

When I was younger, the idea of Neal was just a myth. Being that my friends and I were all in band (see my morning smut contributors), Neal was of legend to us. He was an amazing saxophone player, who dabbled in flute. He also had another credit to his name, he was a master of vocal stylings. To meet Neal would be like meeting royalty. And believe me, it was.

At the annual Christmas party thrown by Brooke's husband, Brandon. I came across Neal. Not knowing what to say, I did what any girl would do when meeting Neal. I threw down one mean Kid 'n' Play dance and hoped he would join in, for I heard that not only was "Papa Got A Brand New Bag" his forte, but also said dance. From this, a tradition was born. Everytime Neal and I see each other. Every function, even the wedding, the Kid 'n' Play dance must be done at least once. Although sometimes, I must do extensive warming up, while he can go into it at anytime.

Another thing one must know about Neal, is that he can read minds. Okay, maybe just Brooke's. But at another Christmas party, while playing Taboo. It was insane. Brooke would say, "uhhh..." and he's like, "A PALM TREE!!!" and it would be right. Creepy? Coincidence? With Neal, I think not.

In honor of this wonderful human being, for way too many reasons than I can list here. I will compose a lovely poem for Neal. Here it goes:

Missing from my life for many days
Long for all of those Kid 'n' Plays
Fabulous doesn't begin to describe you
Unique laugh that identifies you
Christmas time can't come fast enough
Yes Neal, it's you I miss and luff.

It was more of an ode, as per to a Grecian Urn, but good enough for Neal. So, when stumbling upon this saint on earth, please do not hesitate to throw down one mean Kid 'n' Play, he'll love it, and know that somewhere out there, I'm thinking of him.

My Boredom = Josh's Gain

Josh. Joshua. Joshie. These are some of the names that I call him. But when it comes down to it. One name cannot explain this remarkable human being. How was that for a opening line? I thought that it was pretty good. But honestly, this post is 100% dedicated to the one and only Joshua.

Alright, many many many moons ago, when I was a wee tot. Okay, I was 14, but hell, I'm pretty short. I was in the marching band, where I met this wonderful man. Josh. Okay. He wasn't so much of a man, as he was 14 as well, but he was on the road to becoming a man. So Josh liked my friend, so I did what any friend would do, forge a friendship with Josh. So what happens? Josh and I friends forever. Not so much, but I'm not getting into that.

Josh, as a friend, is the go to guy. You go to him when you need something. Advice about other boys. You go to him when you have a problem with your car. You go to him when you need concert tickets. Heck, you even go to him just cause you want to bother him. Does he care? Yeah just a little bit though. Not a whole lot, but he will call you and yell at you.

Joshua and I are however are the same exact person. Except he has a penis. I do not. Well, maybe. No, I just checked, I definitely don't. But we like alot of the same things. We both like cars, but he likes to play with them and fix them and make them go faster. I like to try and not crash them. We both like the same music. We might even rendezvous at a show every now and then. But Josh, well he's pretty much a cool guy.

I like Joshua because I can IM him, and this is how one of our conversations will go:

A: Hi
J: skank
A: dork
J: loser
A: douchebag
J: whore
A: moron
J: slut
A: okay, i can't think of anymore. how are you?

And it's like a ritual. We can't have a normal conversation before we do that. It's great. I love being degrated before having a conversation.

Okay, yeh, I'll also proposition Joshua many times a week. He says it's cause I need to get laid, I think it's because he's a sexy SOB. This is how that conversation will go:

A: So, your place or mine?
J: what?
A: When are we gonna hook up?
J: I don't know.
A: you wanna?
J: hold on...no.

I love rejection. I think that's why I take it so well in my life. It's all because of Joshua. Well, there you have it. A poorly written article about Joshua. I'm sorry this sucked but I needed to write a tribute to the wonder that is Josh. So, all in all. I love this stupid skank whore, Joshua. Not cause he's sexy, but because, he's grrrrreat.

The Wonderous World of Wite-Out

As per request, I'm going to write about Wite-Out, or if you prefer Liquid Paper, because at my place of employment, Liquid Paper is all that I have at my disposal. So now, here is the history of Wite-Out. Think of this as if you were on the "Carousel of Progress" in Disneyworld. Cause that's what I like to do.

Back when they first invented paper, or papyrus, when they messed up writing out a long story in hierogylphics, they simply would make up some new papyrus which could take up to weeks. Therefore forgetting what the story was about and being forced to write it on the walls. Wite-Out was yet to be discovered.

Wite-Out was conceived from the idea of "white washing" a fence or a house. Think Tom Sawyer. You can convince anyone to use Wite-Out, right? That's why Tom was the original spokesman of Wite-Out. People would simply mix up some white paint in their backyards and then bring the paint into the house and "white wash" their mistake. But to make this idea really work, someone had to make it more practical.

Enter, Hewite I. Tout. Plagued with bad penmanship and a horrible speller, the teacher often punished Hewite by having the big paint can permanantly by his desk in the one room school house. This embarassed him greatly and he would often get in trouble at home because of all the white paint he would get on his clothes. One day, while watching his mother pickle beets, he stole one of the jars that she was using to pickle the beets, smaller than the paint can, he thought that maybe it would be less noticable. His older sister was an artist, and she had a lot of paint brushes. So when she was outside painting a scenery shot, he swiped one of her fine paintbrushed. He felt that something with a finer point would make getting rid of the mistakes easier and less sloppy. So by fashioned a device of a paint brush and a jar (with the paintbrush glued to the jar lid) the modern day Wite-Out was born. He got the name from all the kid's saying "He Wite It Out," a play on his name.

Today, Wite-Out is used in millions of offices around the country and it has also evolved to Yello-Out, Green-Out, or even Pink-Out for colored surfaces. Another big draw of Wite-Out is the fragrance. It comes in one, "snuff." You can inhale this stuff and you'll be on cloud nine for a good hour or two. Also, you can write things in it. I wrote out the name of myself and all my future cats.

Remember when using Wite-Out. Do not inhale your first time, it'll only make you sick. And shake before use, because if not, it's watery and who wants watery Wite-Out? Hewite would not approve.

Internet Dating and Some Plugs

There's alot going on today. First of all, I went on what could only be not referred to as a "date" last night. I've resorted to meetin boys on the internet, out of sheer desparation. So, I went to this boy's apartment. Which wasn't a smart move, because who knows, he could have been a pedophile. He wasn't. He's actually really cute and really nice. Unfortunately, after what could be described as a lovely evening. He decided that he hates that I smoke. Which now, I think leads to weirdness. I don't know. He sent me fun and suggestive text messages all day yesterday. Now, absolutely nothing. Not a damn thing. I quit. After one shot, i give up on internet dating. Back to selling myself to the highest bidder at the bars on Thursday nights. I knew I shouldn't have skipped out on Bar Night. Onto plugs, we have ALOT today. First of all, I have to plug myself. My friends, Ashley, Amanda, and Jin Hee have a new blog. Called...The Morning Smut. It's a fun, news style blog where we report on well, Smut. Visit us at: The Morning Smut Next up, the lovely Lynn has a blog that you all should read religiously. I sent her a poem. Which makes both of us insanely cool. Go visit Lynn's looniness at: Lynn's Lair Amanda, my Co-Hoe, has a blog of her own which you can read all about the debachery of a Blonde Girl in the suburban setting of our town. Visit Amanda at: Blonde Girl My final plug is a personal favorite. Ashley, who likes things that are round and invents dances called the booty ROUND, started a blog as well. I think blogging has become an epidemic. Go visit Ashley at: The Round Enough plugging. Also, would you ask a girl to quit smoking if you only hung out with her once? Poll question of the day.