It’s been a couple weeks since Christie and I returned from our famed four day extravaganza in Cabo San Lucas. Perhaps you’ve heard a couple of the stories, but in case you haven’t, here’s what I’m willing to share…
It was only seven days prior to what ultimately ended up to be our departure date, that I received a call from Christie with the news there were $280 round trip tickets to Mexico available for the next week. We had absolutely no plan for a vacation, but after a very brief text exchange we deemed it necessary we take advantage of this great deal.
Flash forward to Wednesday morning, passports and luggage in tow, we were on our way to SFO Terminal 2 Virgin Airlines for our flight to Cabo.
Thanks to our friends in the sky, we received several free cocktails en route and were quite, let’s call it, relaxed by the time we touched down. Landing at almost 5pm we were ready for a drink and some dinner, but first we had to check into our resort. This is the view to which we were greeted…Perfection.
We checked into our room and settled in for the evening. After an outstanding meal at the five star restaurant on property, we enjoyed an after dinner cocktail and even got the opportunity to meet their head chef! Of course she didn’t speak english, so it was a very brief encounter.
Aside, we closed out the night early and saved ourselves up for a very long day ahead. We awoke early Thursday morning for our appointments at the spa. After a couple treatments and some well earned time in the sauna and steam room, we headed over to the adult pool for some lunch and cocktails at the swim up bar.
Let me preface the next part of our story with the following: Prior to leaving for our trip, both Christie and I received long lectures from our mothers to avoid certain things in Mexico. For example, we were to not drink the water, spend time with strange men or any strangers for that matter, imbibe any foreign substances (pun intended), visit downtown alone, etc, etc. Over the next 24 hours we proceeded to break every single one of their rules.
Almost immediately after arriving to the pool we met six men on vacation for a bachelor party. These characters included:
Hi-Larry-ous the Bachelor
Stacks
The Window Washer
Transformer
Note: There were also two other dudes in attendance as well, however we didn’t get to know them as well as the others.
Over the course of the afternoon we enjoyed several shots of the hotel’s best tequila at half price thanks to Christie, took a lesson in body surfing and buried Christie in the sand. By the end of the afternoon, these lovely gents had offered us an invitation back to their suite. Assuming we would be heading downtown, we got completely dolled up and headed over to their place a couple buildings over. Wrong.
Upon arrival we quickly realized the boys had settled in for the night and we’d be spending the evening on the resort in their sweet. But don’t worry…we found a way to pass the time…(get your head out of the gutter)…we taught them King’s Cup!
It wasn’t but a couple hours into the night when we ran out of chi-chi’s and had to order more booze. Nice work Christie.
I think it might have been the final bottle of vodka that threw me for a loop, but my memory blurs a bit after this point.
The next day we awoke after only a few hours of sleep to find my camera missing and only a short time to make it downtown to catch our snorkeling day trip. I had a sneaking suspicion it might be at the pool, which was open 24 hours, but when I arrived it was nowhere to be found. Disappointed I headed back to my room only to run into a woman on the foot path who asked if I was looking for my camera. She had just turned it into Lost & Found. I then realized she would have had to review the pictures to know it was my camera. Veryvery very embarrassing.
Needless to say we did make it onto our snorkeling trip, which turned out to be an open bar. Score!
When we returned back to the hotel we had several drive by visits from the bachelor party, however we failed to take our mother’s advice again and drank not the water, but the cocktails with the ice on the boat that afternoon. We were down for the count until we headed to the airport the next morning. It didn’t matter though. There was no way we could have topped Thursday anyway.
I’m assuming if you live in San Francisco, particularly in the hood, you’ve been to either Delaney’s or Notte …Or perhaps you know her from the 2007 lawsuits she faced after closing a well known establishment by the name of Johnny Barleycorns downtown. Her name is Luisa Hanson and she seems to have been around San Francisco as long as the Marina has been built on rubble.
Whether you’re a fan of her cuisine or can’t stand her code of business, you’ve got to admit, she’s got an interesting perspective on life and is always willing to share. New Year’s Eve of my senior year in college I fancied her bar, Notte, for an underage hotspot with dancing, cocktails and a short line for the restroom.After I moved to the city it took only a couple of months to discover I in fact lived only two blocks from my NYE shitshow, as well as it’s accompanying restaurant, Luisa’s.
Both being Italian and enjoying a quiet night out I have found her flagship restaurant to be one of my local favorites, especially because you get to see what Luisa’s got new on the menu (and I’ve not talking about the entrees).
She is always ready to dish some advise…some of my favorites…”You so sweet. You best to move to the midwest. A man will appreciate you there.” or ”Why is she single? She’s stubborn, isn’t she? I like her.” or “She’s so pretty. She has a boyfriend, doesn’t she?” or my favorite, “You have big boobs. That intimidates men. That’s why you single.”
Recently we visited the restaurant for a nice dinner with some friends in town and ended up staying around for a couple hours to chat.
After a couple hours of yammering from Luisa about getting aggressive in our search for love we walked approximately 100 feet to the back bar Notte to find a man.
Shockingly enough I did meet a man that night. His name was Nick and he lived right here in the hood. Unfortunately it was several hours later I realized Nick was anything but single. I’m suspicious Luisa put him up to it, but I guess I’ll never know. I’m just thankful this one wasn’t married!
As you may have hard this year’s Union Street Festival was a dry one. After attending on Saturday afternoon I would call the whole thing an arts and crafts faire, however, despite the lack of rock and roll music and beer gardens, there were still plenty of drunken good times.
Here are a couple of my favorite Yelp reviews about the event (Yes, these are direct quotes):
Not even a monsoon could slow these Marina girls down.
Sorry for (1) Partying & having fun at a festival, (2) not being a grandma, and (3) living life a little.
The order of the day is booze, teriyaki chicken skewers, funnel cakes, and easy women. Dear Marina, please don’t ever change.
Not college age and yet we stayed for hours! I guess it’s just our love for SF, it’s neighborhoods and it helps we don’t live nearby!
This is only for people with no class or any kind of education.
As you can see, the event sounds completely like something my friends and I would absolutely LOVE! I don’t know if it was the rebellious air about the event, but everyone seemed to be out and ready to rage. After Mary and I celebrated a birthday with brunch at The Republic (delicious, BTW), we met up with the Sausage Prince at Perry’s. He was already five bloody’s and 2 shots deep. It was catch up time.
Walking through the festival we were instantly tempted by the bar in the window at Marengo. I though to myself, “This isn’t the usual set up, looks like fun!” Luckily we got in early and grabbed a table before the flood of people came pouring in. We ended up staying there the entire afternoon. The owner, Jim, was in a great mood since he had just proposed to our favorite waitress Leslie (and she said yes), so the drinks were pouring heavier than usual thanks to him. I, admittedly, enjoyed more Lemonade & Whiskey’s than I care to count…Not to mention the Fried Chicken Sliders on the side.
Over the course of the day all sorts of friends came in to join us…we had Folsom, Santa Clara and San Francisco alike cozied up to our table! Around 6pm we finally pussed out and headed to Betelnut for some dinner. At $50 a person I presume we devoured pretty much every item on the menu (sans seafood for me, of course).
From there we headed to Mauna Loa where we convinced some guy this hat represented the number of people we’d slept with…he was disgusted…we were in hysterics. (Oh and that’s a crazy wo-man standing behind me.)
After Marengo we crawled from Republic to Monaghans and finally to Patxis where we closed out the night with some chicago style pizza and a lot of sauvignon blanc.
Thanks to Union Street Festival and my ridiculous friends for another fantastic Saturday Faturday. We really crushed it.
You may or may not recall but last summer my girlfriends and I launched an epic manhunt for the perfect Mr. Right Now, known as Summer of Single Dudes, commonly referred to as SOSD. While I admit those months were filled with new friends and good times, I was a bit unavailable during that time since I was secretly dating someone on the side.
SIDE NOTE: The details behind my “under the falafel wraps” relationship will surely be shared at some point, but trust me…it’s pages worth of story and now isn’t the time.
Aside, this past weekend, now that I’m truthfully single, we decided to launch a second season. After the success of our weekend in Carmel last year (Part I and Part II), we couldn’t possibly think of a better place to kick off SOSD than Carmel.
With Jen back in Chicago this year, this SOSD trip featured only the three amigas, Mary, Christie and myself. With Mary’s recommendations on eateries AND last year’s suite booked again at The Fireplace Inn (and yes, each room is as over-the-top themed as this one), we knew this weekend would prove to be nothing short of ridiculous.
Thrilled to have my new convertible, who has been poignantly named “Sergeant Pepper” for his nod to the British Beatles and Pepper White exterior, we drove the entire route to and from Carmel with our top off. We even brought a plethora of hats and scarves, both socially acceptable and unacceptable…
Once we arrived in Carmel, we immediately got into our evening garb and hit up the Inn at Spanish Bay to sit outside and indulge in some appetizers and cocktails. Although it was absolutely freezing, we cuddled up with a blanket and an Irish Coffee and enjoyed the sounds of a bagpiper in the distance.
While devouring our delicious thai egg rolls AND the beautiful sunset, we were rudely interrupted by a relentless seagull, who flew down, wing span brushing Mary’s face, and stole our last egg roll. “BITCHES!” I exclaimed! While I missed the action shot, I did get this one of Mary momentarily after the attack…(And no. I don’t know what Mary was wearing on her head.)
Once things got too chilly (or perhaps we were shamed by the emberassment of my yelling bitches) we ended up inside the hotel, mingling with the guests and chefs of the Carmel Food and Wine Festival. We ended up talking with the sous chef for Guy Fieri, who turned out to be just as big of a douche bag as Guy himself. Ick. After this awkward encounter, we realized there were nothing but old men (to Christie’s liking only), so we headed back to Carmel by the Sea for dinner downtown.
I think Forge In The Forrest was delicious, but to be honest I had imbibed several cocktails at this point and the darkness of their outdoor patio was surely darker than was intended. After our prosciutto wrapped prawns, broiled artichokes, and filet mignon had been consumed, we decidedly headed to our old stake out, Brophy’s to close out the night.
Not surprising both the bartender and owner of Brophy’s remembered us from the year prior and promptly served us several strong cocktails, including a Captain n’ Coke, 7&& and Margarita. We sat at the center of the bar playing F$%& the Dealer and judging our surroundings intently…
Sitting just behind us were four locals, three guys and a girl, who after declining our invitation to join us for a round of cards, inquired about borrowing my camera. Without a second thought I handed them my iPhone and watched them take several ridiculous photos of one another. After returning Rick Suave IV (that’s the name of my iPhone), I provided them my “Dignity” Business Card and requested they check back in a week because I would be posting their photos here. (See example below.)
Not sure why, but for whatever reason my smartass response enticed them. Next thing I knew I was locked out of my hotel room and was getting into the car with two of our new “friends.” Fast forward to the next morning when I sent the following text to Mary at 5:49am: “Hey. I think we’re in the same house. Don’t forget me if you leave!!”
Over the course of the next couple of hours Mary and I awaited Christie’s ride back to our hotel in this stranger’s home. While wandering throughout the house, we discovered our new friends’ obsession with the Giants, including an adorable Christmas Tree adorned with handmade Giants Jerseys. Creepy and yet endearing all at the same time.
Tim Lincecum and Cody Ross (as they will be named for their giant Giants fandemonium) had work early that morning and little patience to deal with our antics. Finally around 7am Christie and the Eagle show up to find Mary, Tim and I cuddled up for a catnap while in a complete state of hermekey. Shockingly, this was the least awkward moment of the AM.
We got back to the hotel and anxiously awaited the continental breakfast buffet, afterall we needed a good base for our Carmel Valley Wine Tasting.
That afternoon we were chauffeured by Gary, who in his past life directed The Phil Donahue Show, but was now a personal driver to the stars of Carmel, including Kate Spade, Michael Kors and Doris Day. (I have no idea where Mary found this guy.)
We hit up Corkscrew for lunch then to Boekenoogen, Parsonage, & Boete for tastings. Per usual Christie joined a wine club while Mary and I basked in her new member discount.
That night we went to Dametra’s Cafe (Check Out their Facebook Page. It’s ridiculous.) where we enjoyed the company of several middle eastern men and delicious Greek cuisine. Christie even got up for a belly dance!
By Saturday night things had quieted down for us, with the exception of Christie who had found herself a partner during the belly dance…By Sunday morning the three of us awoke, exhausted and ready for the long haul back to reality in San Francisco.
We stopped along the way for brunch downtown, then to Capitola for a daiquiri and some sun at Zelda’s. We got back to the city around 5pm that night…All in all, not too shabby of a kick off to SOSD 2011.
If you’re a devout follower, you’re probably familiar with Thunder From Down Under since it was only a couple weeks ago we saw their show in Las Vegas. Well apparently not only do they have an all male strip revue in Vegas, but they also have traveling tours around the world, including San Francisco.
Ironically we had heard about this from one of our guy friends (strange, I know) but within days of the news, Christie (our sugar mama) had purchased six VIP tickets for the first night of their tour here in the city. Of course, what better opportunity for a much needed (that’s arguable) all girls night out?!
The week of our show also happened to be Yelp’s Drink Week, which meant 50% off all cocktails. Trying to be budget conscious (not really) we started at one of Yelp’s participating locations, Cantina. This bar also happens to be located off of Sutter, right near Union Square and only a couple blocks from Hotel Nikko, where the Thunder was located.
The drinks at Cantina are absolutely delicious!
SIDE NOTE: The last time I was there was a couple years back and I believe we were celebrating Kellan’s birthday…The main thing I recall is that I had very badly burned my hand and it was the first night I had gone out since. Notice the bandage around my pointer as I ponder my cocktail of choice. Shocking, even a couple years back Mary and I still side by side as boozing buddies.
Aside, Cantina proved to be a great first stop and from there we headed to Piraat Pizza for a quick italian feast before we made out way to Nikko. I had never been to Piraat, although I was immediately drawn in for their clever name, but was also pleasantly surprised by their delicious pizza and breadsticks. PS I would avoid the wings.
Finally around 7:30pm we headed to Nikko, checked in and received the royal treatment as we were seated at the VERY two front tables. Our feet literally rested on the stage!
And to top off our front row seats? Themed cocktails!
Fast forward two hours and the show was nothing short of absolutely amazing! And that’s not just the two minimum cocktails talking. Instead of the eight performers in Vegas, there were only four plus the host. Because we were dead center and practically sitting on the 12×12 stage, we interacted with them throughout the show quite consistently.
Christie was even called up and won a contest…And no, I’m not going to tell you what the contest was for, but I will tell you she kicked the other two girl’s asses! It was a crown well deserved!
As if we weren’t on cloud 11 (see the joy in our smiles), come to find out the performers not only took photos with us, but came out to the hotel bar after the show for a little social hour! While I will hold back the details, let’s just say one of our lovely ladies, did a bit more than exchanging words after the show with one of the Australian hotties! Class! Class! Class!
Let’s just say a round of applause to Thunder From Down Under and my very brave girlfriends!
Yes. You ready me right. Okay…well it’s not quite Folsom, but very close. It’s El Dorado Hills and the place is called The Saloon. While the atmosphere is nothing special…the mechanical bull at the center of the bar certain does add a certain air of excitement.
The crowd was a good mix of local cougars, old man douche bags and hot young-uns. I do, however, insist things were way more exciting as a result of our presence. I had met up with some Folsom friends, including Christie and was thrilled to try out their new hangout, especially once I heard about the bull.
After several cocktails (Thanks to Ryan for the 7&7′s and Captain & Diets), I still had no guts to get on it, but others did. I’m not sure how Colby felt on Sunday, but after getting bucked off his third round on the bull, he must have been aching.
If you haven’t been yet, it’s definitely worth the visit.
Let’s face it. I needed to get away…Off to Chicago & Vegas for a 10-day whirlwind vacation…Our trip to Chicago was to visit Jen, who had recently moved home while she attended nursing school and celebrate St Patrick’s Day. And our trip to Vegas was to celebrate Crispin’s birthday and, well, to go to Vegas…here’s how it went down…
Christie and I had originally slated a Saturday afternoon arrival to Chicago, however once we learned that the St Patrick’s Day celebrations were underway for Saturday and not Thursday, March 17th, we promptly changed our flights Friday afternoon and paid an additional fee to fly the red eye and arrive by 5am Saturday morning.
After a very long and VERY freezing cold flight, we were greeted by Jen and her adorable mother, Susan, at the airport. We immediately set the tone of the trip by stopping at Dunkin Donuts, shoveling our faces full of tiny little mounds of delicious deep fried dough. We headed back to their palatial home in the Chicago suburb of Kenilworth and napped in prep for the big day ahead.
While we accidentally slept through the St Patrick’s Day parade at noon, we still managed to make it to Wrigleyville, where we partied for the entire day…and night.
Around 4pm we lost Christie to Chris, but Jen and I powered through. We met up with Kellan’s brother, Patrick, and concluded our evening with a couple slices of pizza as big as my head. The details of the events in between are hazy to say the least. There was a lot of Jameson, new friends, green beer, dancing, gingers, and best of all Malort aka Chicago’s Fernet.
Flash forward to Sunday morning where we awoke dazed and confused in Patrick’s guest bedroom. Luckily his sweet ass apartment was only a short walk to the L where we met Christie around 10am, so we could get back to Jen’s parents place. About 30 minutes into our train ride, I had a sudden urge for the restroom, which required us to immediately exit in a not so great neighborhood. However, what started out as a bad idea, turned into a great idea, when we landed ourselves at Act One, for several hours. And yes, we were still in the same clothes.
Sunday night through Tuesday evening we rested up at Jen’s parent’s home in preparation for our week downtown and our weekend in Las Vegas. We lunched at The Bagel, shopped at the mall, learned at the Museum of Science & Industry and enjoyed the company of Susan, Randy, Jake and Luke. (Those are Jen’s parents and her golden retrievers and they’re all adorable.)
On Tuesday evening we finally headed downtown to the Michigan Avenue Westin to stay for the duration of the week. Tuesday night we ended up back in Wrigleyville and stayed out until around 4am. After a round of strip pool, we finally called it a night and headed to The Golden Apple Diner for some deliciousness.
Around 8am Wednesday morning, our hotel room door came flying open and entered Miss Lauren, who had just arrived from San Fran. After a long power nap, the four of us, Christie, Jen, Lauren and I, hit downtown for some brunch and Chicago-themed good times. After chowing down some b-fast at Yolk, we headed to Pippins Tavern for a couple cocktails.
SIDE NOTE: One of my most favorite parts of the bars in Chicago? That you can pay to play whatever music you want to hear! We owned every bar’s jams to say the least.
At Pippin’s we met a group of men, the founders of Vitamin Water, who we ended up partying with all afternoon. We sang, danced, played games, took shots of Jameson, played more games…The guys also happened to also be staying at our hotel and one of them claimed to have an extra room next to his suite. He provided us a key and offered it as a place to stay in case we needed the extra space. Sort of creepy, but a kind gesture nevertheless.
After a $600+ tab (the drinks weren’t even $5 a piece), we closed down the house around 5pm in prep for our All You Can Eat Sushi feast planned for the evening. On our way back to the hotel, things got a bit out of hand. It was commuter hour and while the professionals of the world exited the high rises of Michigan Avenue, we ran like maniacs through the streets. Lo event proceeded to slam her body up against the window of Giorgio Armani, until security came after her. Whoops.
By some miracle of the lord, I’m proud (possibly ashamed) to say we made it out until 3am in Lincoln Park. On our way back to the hotel we stopped at the 17th floor to check out “Vitamin Water’s” extra room, but heard voices when we opened the door and chickened out of saying hello…but made note to try again the next night.
SIDE NOTE: Jen did end up being sick all night. Shockingly I don’t think it was from the mass amount of liquor, but instead the terrible sushi we ate…Karma’s a biatch Jen!
Thursday, the actual St Patrick’s Day, was sort of a bust. At this point we weren’t getting out of bed until after 1pm, so breakfast turned out to be some appetizers and a drink at the top of the Hancock Tower. That night we got all spiffed up and headed to the Viagra Triangle, which is just like the Marina triangle, but instead of cougars, it’s old men! There we dined at an amazing steakhouse, Gibson’s, and met the VERY Italian manager and owner. Food? Fabulous. Service? Amazing. Cocktails? Strong.
After 50+ ounces of beef combined, we hit up the local bar and ended up partying with, what we thought were cubs players, but turned out to be cops (slight misunderstanding between us and the waitress). Aside, at the end of the night one of the officers, Rick, gave us his business card to K.I.T. Apparently not only is Rick an officer of the law, but he is also skilled in computer repair, tatooing and masonry. Yes, his card actually stated this information. WTF CPD? (That’s Jen and Rick.)
Oh and around 3am, on the way back to the hotel room, Christie and Jen stopped by “Vitamin Water’s” suite for a second look…Turns out it was not a spare room, but instead his actual hotel room! As they opened the door, he popped his head out of the bathroom, saying “Hold on a sec. I’m just brushing my teeth.” Before he could even spit out the toothpaste, the girls ran, hopped in the elevator and we never saw him again. So gross!
Friday, we yet again slept in past 1pm and finally awoke to have lunch with Lo’s old co-worker Jen in Wicker Park. Surprise, surprise…only a couple hours later, as we were departing Northside Cafe, Lo’s co-worker tripped and fell, knocking over several fake trees, tables and chairs. We received several dirty looks on our way out. Whoopsie…We made a scene.
That night we attempted a show at Second City, however, we didn’t exactly receive the warmest welcome (Thanks Lo) and decided it probably wasn’t the best idea to stay…Instead I left the girls and met up with Nugget at a hole in the wall dive bar in the heart of the Ukrainian Village. I got home around 3am, only to get up at 5am to catch our flight to Vegas.
Yes. Vegas. On Saturday morning we arrived at 9:30am to begin our Vegas extravaganza! Annie and Crispin greeted us at the airport, but we had sadly left Jen behind in Chi Town. The first day was filled with rest and relaxation at the spa. The single day of detox. We dined at Postrio, one of Wolfgang Puck’s restaurants at the Venetian for lunch and Johnny Smalls at the Hard Rock for dinner.
We ended up getting a table with some San Diego friends at Vanity, which was perfect for us. Easy access to seating, cocktails and most importantly, the dance floor. My one horrific memory of the night? One of the girls (not a friend) at our table was wearing this teeny-tiny white dress, so short, you could literally see her tampon string. Abso-frickin-lutely disgusting. (And yes, of course we captured this in pictures.)
Sunday was again a lazy day, mostly because we were saving ourselves for the greatest experience ever aka Thunder From Down Under! We had front row seats, plenty of jell-o shots and screams to deafen a small child. My favorite part? When the 91 year old woman (not kidding), hobbled onto the stage and aggressively put her hands down the strippers boxer briefs. She is my idol.
Later that night, after an uneventful evening at The Bank, the Armenian Duo, aka Lo and Annie, and myself ended up lost inside the Bellagio. The next morning I found the below photo on my camera. Lauren had body slammed herself up against the same Giorgio Armani window display in Vegas as she had in Chicago. Weird, right? (Note to self: Apparently window displays are effective.)
Monday, 90% of our day was spent at the Lago Buffet in Caesar’s. Since we had to check out of our hotel, but weren’t leaving until 9pm, we stayed for both lunch and dinner. Class. Class. Class.
Although I was absolutely exhausted coming back from my vacation it was most definitely worth it. Chicago & Vegas, I’m sorry…but not really.
Oh and in case you’re lazy. Here this story is in film…
As you may have seen on Facebook, this year I celebrated my 27th birthday in true money fashion:
Yes. My theme party was “Mustache & Cleavage.” (And yes, I know mustache is mispelled). Aside, as with any theme party my costume was not without.
The day started like every other…cocktails and costume prep at our place. The night before all of the girls had stayed over for a sleepover party filled with wine, gossip and dance party 2 on the wii. The spend-the-night made getting ready for the day very easy…everyone was there to ensure we had enough cleavage and plenty of mustaches. I would offer to show photos, however on our way from the apartment to O’Reily’s in North Beach, my camera was left in the cab. (Insert sad face here.)
The only other photo I have from the day is this, which clearly took place at the end of the afternoon.
So sue me…I needed a nap…
From O’Reily’s to Rogue our afternoon was filled with many cocktails, lots of stories, several new friends (young and very old) and tons of laughter. I personally enjoyed the Porche salespeople hitting on every female in sight, the homegrown mustaches from the likes of Danny and Garrett and the ridiculousness of everyone’s overall “look” for the day.
Around 5pm (I think) we finished our afternoon in the sun and decided it was time for dinner…I had sliders on the mind, so we headed to Marengo. I’m not exactly sure how things went so quickly from hot to not so hawt, but the next thing I knew Lauren and I were sans sliders and rolling around the patio floor.
Sean insisted we go home at that point (shocker), but I insisted on Chinese. After he returned me safety to our apartment, he headed back out with our friends. Once the coast was clear I hopped in a cab, picked up Mary (who was for whatever reason was at La Barca) and headed to Dragon Well for a feast. Around 7pm I called it a night.
All in all the day was a amazing and I couldn’t have asked for a better birthday with better friends and family.
(Seriously, I’m so friggin blessed, it’s ridiculous.)
In a feeble attempt to finally prove to my mother I can write a blog that doesn’t require her to lose any amount of respect for me, I thought I would share a couple quick stories of my friends’ sexcapades instead of my own.
At Least She Was Safe About It After a long day and evening of dancing and good times, the girls and I decided to call it a night. Despite being cramped into a teeny tiny apartment, the girls had invited friends and their potential hook ups back to our place. Luckily after only a couple of hours all guests had departed, except for two of our most intoxicated, but most unsuspecting friends. The party officially died when these two ended up sound asleep aka passed out on the living room sofas. The girls and I headed into our respective sleeping quarters and stayed up for just a while longer gossiping about gawd knows what.
SIDE NOTE: The apartment was situated with a living room and kitchen in one section and a short hallway leading to the bathroom and two back bedrooms in another section. The bedrooms doors were open so we could hear everything from the living room perfectly.
About twenty minutes into our social hour we heard a strange rustling from the living room. After shushing one another so we could hear every bit, we realized our two passed out friends had awoken from their sleepy slumber and were about to get it on! The girls and I hopped out of bed and crammed into the hallway to see if we could get even a glimpse of what was happening. Stacked like the three stooges we each stared into the darkness to see these two rolling around the couch and living room floor butt naked.
It was like driving by a terrible accident on the freeway… It’s awful to see, but you just can’t turn away your eyes. Before we knew it several minutes had passed and we were engulfed. Then all of the sudden the female in this duo stood up. Eyes barely open she stumbled right through the hallway and into the bathroom next to where we were standing perfectly still. Without even a blink she opened up the bathroom cupboard, grabbed a condom and headed right back into the living room. She was inches away from running directly into us and didn’t even acknowledge our presence. She just waltzed right back and plopped down on the living room floor.
We didn’t wait around to see what happened next, but received an unnecessary amount of detail the next morning at brunch.
Wait, What Was His Name Again? After a long summer Saturday Faturday, one of my girlfriend’s met her man of the hour on her stroll home. A neighborhood resident she had seen once or twice before around the hood, she decidedly took him home for an evening romp. The next morning they awoke, exchanged phone numbers and went on their merry way. Unfortunately for this friend of mine, she had not a clue what this man’s name was. Being the friend I am I offered to prank call this gentlemen caller to see if I could get his name by either a quick conversation or perhaps getting his voicemail.
Within two rings of the call he picked up. We had already done our google research and learned that his area code was from Maryland, so I at least had that on my side (Don’t judge. You know you’ve done it). Before he could even say, “Hello.” I quickly chimed in, “Can I please speak with Sean?” When he responded, “Sean who?” I immediately said, “Sean Man.” Now unknown to this dialee, that name sounded suspicious…like as if I had said “Sean Guy” or “Sean Dude” or “Sean Male,” but I actually know a Sean Man and it was the first name to pop into my head. Well this unknown dialee totally called my bluff and started asking me all sorts of questions. I chocked and finally had to hang up. I’m pretty sure he put two and two together and needless to say my girlfriend didn’t hear from him again. So sad. Too bad.
SOSD Dream Team At it Again If you’re a dedicated reader you probably recall this past summer’s valiant effort to meet a new guy aka Summer of Single Dudes (SOSD). Although I shared several entertaining accounts during those months, one of which was never told. On one of our several nights out on the town, all of the gals had met a man of their own, however, due to our limiting accommodations at the time, hook up space was limited. As a means of desperation one of the girls chose her man’s pick up truck. Yeah…you read me…it’s like we were in the middle of a corn field or something. I suppose they did have bench seating.
Well in the heat of the moment there wasn’t much time for conversation, particularly about getting to know one another…or getting to know one another’s preference…or even time to ask the important questions like, spit or swallow? So she spit… Right onto his gas and brake pedals. This of course came to his surprise (pun intended). They immediately, and awkwardly, got dressed and headed back to meet up. You guessed it…they didn’t see one another again.
Late Nite Stride of Pride I know that when I make a call to a friend and say there’s a late night dance party that it’s a tempting offer, but I didn’t realize friends who abandon their current engagements all together just to join in. One particular night one of my girlfriends had already gone home with her man of the hour by the time I sent out the dance party messaging. After texting her around 1am that we would be having a late night fiesta, she showed up in her nightgown and trench coat at our front door by 2am. She had discontinued her hook up, dropped him off in a cab and came straight over. Pure amazingness.
In light of another new year, thought I’d share this throwback for your enjoyment…
I should have realized that my first night out in San Francisco would be indicative of my future nights here in the city… Now, before I address the incident the night of December 31, 2005, I think it’s important to provide the backdrop for this great story…
As you’ve probably read before, in college I lived with nine other girls in a quaint little place we called “Cozy House.”
Surrounding Cozy were three houses, SigPi fraternity, Peach and Ice. Ice House was infamously inhabited by males, specifically males who liked to party. (AKA my favorite kind of males.) When we were juniors the senior boys who lived at Ice were our bestest of friends…Once these seniors graduated, the next year the void of the boys’ absence needed to be filled.
So, that next fall we hosted a Beirut tournament with our new neighbors to make nice: Cozy Seniors v Ice Juniors. Success.
This was a pinnacle moment for our houses. Over the course of the next several years there were many a cozy/ice hookups. For me, it was at this tournament I first encountered two specific Ice boys, who I shall call Joe Schmoe and Off Limits. (You may recall Off Limits from a previous story.) Nothing of any real significance occurred this night, but the next couple of years had quite a ride in store.
That December Cozy and Ice headed up to South Shore for Brian’s birthday weekend extravaganza. By this time, several cozy/ice hookups had begun, which meant our Tahoe rental house was sure to have every bedroom occupied. In fact it wasn’t until the drive up to Tahoe I realized I was the only ‘uncoupled’ cozy girl on the trip. Our first night, however, this quickly changed when I added several cocktails, a filthy game of scrabble, a pull out couch and Joe Schmoe into the mix.
The next day most of the girls headed home, but Gainsta (she’s a fellow cozy girl) and I decided to stay one more night to ensure we got the most fun out of the trip. Of course we weren’t thinking much past our lady needs and failed to realize the girls who were leaving had been our ride there and as a result, we would have no ride back. Without a car we were forced to ask Blay-ore to drive up to South Shore to pick us up.
So you’re probably asking yourself, what does this have to do with New Year’s Eve? Well, two weeks after our trip to South Shore, Cozy and Ice were together again to bring in 2006 with a bang on December 31, 2005…
After world’s longest drive from Folsom to SF due to a torrential down pour and severe flooding in Fairfield, we arrived at the ‘best NYE deal’ hotel located in the Tenderloin of San Francisco. Our hotel room was approximately 10×10 and little to the front desk’s knowledge, we had snuck 15 of our closest friends into our teeny tiny room.
After only a short time of getting ready in that small space, Gainsta and I got bored, ditched everyone and hit up the hookah bar next door. This is the only picture I have from this night. What’s ironic is that I sort of look classy in this photo…but that didn’t last long.
We had heard of this bar not checking IDs and since we had a couple people under 21, this was the ideal location for us. Turns out, this great place was Notte on Union. I’m not sure how many cocktails I had consumed from 9pm-12am, but the next thing we were counting down to midnight…twice.
I’m guessing it was around 1am when I found myself hooking up with Off Limits in the bathroom at Notte. (And yes, this would be the first of two confirmed occasions I hooked up with Off Limits in a public restroom.) We left together in a cab to get back to our hotel room before everyone else. Once we got to the hotel we proceeded to our room but before I could even get the key out of my clutch, Off Limits was gone. After twenty minutes of searching I was stopped by someone from the front desk, they had found him and together, we were kindly asked to leave.
Since we had snuck so many people into our room we couldn’t even go back to get our stuff. We were left in the middle of the tenderloin with nothing but my purse. Lucky for us, I remembered Blay-ore was staying at a nearby hotel where coincidentally Joe Schmoe was also staying.
My situation was incredibly difficult to explain to Blay-ore considering she had just two weeks prior picked me up from Tahoe after a weekend romp with Joe Schmoe and now I was hooking up with his housemate. Blay-ore, being the friend she is, happily snuck us in, however there wasn’t enough space in her room, so we ended up staying in Joe Schmoe’s room instead. Classy right? The next morning I woke up between Off Limits and Joe Schmoe. I avoided discussing the situation with either of them, pretending it wasn’t awkward at all.
