I'd love to say that Mariah was the best thing about the Mariah show, but Anthony Michael Hall was really the best thing about the Mariah show

You have to read a little bit to get to the part about Anthony Michael Hall, but I swear it's worth it.

Through a series of events, both fortunate and not, I ended up at the Mariah Carey show this weekend. Let me preface this by saying that I'm a Mariah fan, and I'm not ashamed to be a Mariah fan and I don't want to hear anybody talking shit about Mariah. That's all.

There were good things and bad things about the Mariah Carey show. Let's start with the bad.

The dancing was bad, and by bad I mean that the choreography was bad, and admittedly I have high standards for that type of thing. But if your dance troupe looks like they could be leading a late eighties hip hop workout video (remember those?), then your choreographer on staff should be revisited.

The styling was bad, and I pretty much mean across the board. The dancers outfits were horrible, and Mariah's weren't that much better. She starts the show in a butt-revealing panty and bra ensemble, and over it is a sheer nighty/robe thing that looks like Liz Taylor might wear it. Like Liz Taylor might wear it daily. It's not hot. Mariah's not a small girl. This outfit doesn't so much work, especially when you mix in her propensity to swivel her hips like she's making soft-core. Bad styling.

But on to the good! The good was Mariah's voice, which is even better live than you might imagine. She does more runs, more free-style and more upper register when she sings live. And it's amazing to hear. She's really got a one-of-a-kind voice, whether you like it or not.

Trey Lorenz was there to sing "I'll Be There" with her. And that was special, and a good thing.

But Anthony Michael Hall. He was the best thing. Where to I start with this?

Anthony Michael Hall was sitting directly in front of me, two rows up (I had pretty sweet seats, you'll - and I'm thankful to the sweetest boy in the world). Anthony Michael Hall, Anthony Michael Hall. There are three things you need to know about Anthony Michael Hall at this event.

1. The first thing you need to know is that Anthony Michael Hall was there with his BODY GUARD. Because, obviously, at a Mimi concert where Randy Jackson, Bow Wow and JANET FREAKIN' JACKSON were all sitting in the main audience, the person who would need a body guard to protect him from his mobbing fans would be ANTHONY MICHAEL HALL.

2. The second thing that you need to know is that Anthony Michael Hall was also at this event with a literal brigade of second-tier hookers. I'm not making this up in any way. Periodically, throughout the night, he would make out with one or two of the brigade of second-tier hookers. I have no answers for you.

3. The third thing you need to know is the most important thing. Anthony Michael Hall is ONE OF THE WHITEST MEN TO EVER WALK THE FACE OF THE PLANET. Look. Look here and see a picture of how white he is. And without TV makeup on, I promise you that he is even more white. This however -- and this is the key -- did not stop Anthony Michael Hall from dancing like he was Diddy through the entire show. He had a series of moves. One would be to point to the sky like he was reminding us that Jesus had blessed Mariah with a miraculous voice. Then, immediately following the Jesus point, he would make the "white man fist of power" and raise it up for Mariah. I'm sure she loved it. Frequently, he would do this move where he would put his right hand up and kind of flick his wrist like he was doing something between spinning an album and telling you to cut a scene. I'm not sure what it was. I'm pretty sure I've actually seen Diddy do that move at the VMA awards one year, but Diddy is not one of the whitest men ever to live, so when he did it, it was cool. And - no joke, I swear I'm not joking - Anthony Michael Hall "raised the roof." Multiple times, people. It would kind of go down like this:

- Ask "body guard" to go get him more Jack and coke
- Jesus point to sky
- White man fist of power
- Make out with hooker
- Weird Diddy-esque wrist flick move
- Pelvis pump dance behind hooker
- White man fist of power
- Make out with hooker
- Raise the roof
- Point to the stage at Mariah like he's saying "Go on girl." Meanwhile, she's giving shoutouts to all the celebs in the joint. Mr. Deadzone is not among her shout outs, but Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis are.
- Raise the roof

And people, I kid you not, Anthony Michael Hall just about LOST HIS SHIT when Mariah played "Hero." I thought he was going to cry, but then he just Jesus pointed some more.

I wish Mariah had been the best part of the Mariah show, because she sounded so, so good. But AMH trumped her, and oh he trumped her big time.

 

I am super underwater, but I wanted to share this excerpt from an email today.

"So I am in the end stages of the worst period of my life. It was like a crime scene."


You're welcome. All calls returned on Friday!

 

A bulleted List of Scattered Things I Wanted to Mention

- There have been a lot of travesties in TV cancellations. But I just re-watched every episode of Firefly, and I'm pretty sure that that show getting cancelled was one of the greatest TV cancellation travesties ever. EVER. Go to hell, Fox.

- Yes. San Francisco for Thanksgiving. I'm already thankful for that.

- Less than 15 days until Arkansas and my lovely Catwoman.

- I have the worst case of PMS that a girl has ever had. I can't focus a thought. Can't run more than three miles. Bloating. Headaches. Caffienne cravings. It hurts.

- I guess at least I am not pregnant, as a certain aggressive emailer would have you believe I'm on the way to being.

- I'm almost done with all the Dark Angel fan fiction books. That makes me sad.

- When you see this bullshit that I'm knitting, you'll freak.

- Heros premiered last night. It felt so hollow to me, even though I'm going to keep trying. Maybe it felt hollow because I just got done watching Firefly. Maybe because it's not as magical as X-men. Maybe because I have pms. Maybe it's just that it's not Jose Molina or Joss Whedon doing the writing. Maybe it's just too network. Who knows. I wanted it to be deeper. More beautiful like Firefly or more driven like Dark Angel or more like an actual myth like X-Men. I got none of the above.

Sleep. Now. Chocolate first.

 

Your Hottest Sexual Fantasy. EVER.

And so, this is a story I meant to tell. The other week when Ry and I went to Denver, we were in line at the airport waiting to board our SouthWest flight. SouthWest runs some kind of 24-hour news station on these huge TV monitors in the waiting areas. And, I kid you not, what was showing was some guy who was an expert on sexuality -- for right wing Christians. Yes, you heard me right. He's a sexuality expert for right wing Christians. And, in fact, in the boarding area for SouthWest airlines, they were letting him -- on air -- answer email questions from right wing Christians who had questions on sexuality.

The questions were what you would expect in this situation. Is porn a sin? Is masturbation wrong? And then, the question: "Is having sexual fantasies wrong?"

Now, of course we were all expecting this question. It's exactly the type of question one would expect a right wing Christian to ask a right wing Christian sexuality expert. What got the entire boarding area laughing was the response our expert gave:

"Well, if your sexual fantasies involve a person or people other than your partner, than that's a sin. But if your fantasy is, say, you and your partner in Texas somewhere in the back of a Suburban..."

PEOPLE - WHO ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH FANTASIZES ABOUT BEING IN TEXAS IN THE BACK OF A SUBURBAN. WHO? I PROBABLY THINK THAT NOT EVEN RIGHT WING CHRISTIANS FANTASIZE ABOUT THE BACK OF A SUBURBAN IN TEXAS SOMEWHERE.

But what do I know?

I know that this moment bonded everybody in the boarding area together, because we all looked at each other and broke into laughter about it.

And I know that all weekend long every time Ry and I saw a Suburban - which was frequently in Denver - the first one of us to spot it would say to the other "Right now I'm fantasizing about having sex in the back of that Suburban."

And I know that that fantasy is SO HOT that I may use it to replace what I've been claiming is my sexual fantasy for years now, which was zombie victim role-play.

Seriously.

 

Photo Catch Up!

Let's catch up, shall we?

At the Pregame Denver Tailgate Event!


No illegal climbing of the shelves in Target to get keg cups for us!


Ryan gives the Pregame Girls instruction. This seems natural for him, no?


The lovely girls of Pregame.com!


Jocelyn gives some love to the REAL Denver Fans!


Our first table Beer Pong winners. We heart Zach (on the right)


But the girl team actually dominated the tables!


Can I just tell you that this photo was taken at 11am? That's a lot of beer for 11am!


Zach brought his MOM over to play beer pong. And then she kicked his ass at the game.


It's hard work prepping for a tailgate event. Seriously.

Also, on Saturday...

While Ry and Jocelyn were keg shopping, the Dynamic Gay Duo celebrated their wedding.

At the Most Recent Endless Gaming Conference in Vegas

How super cute are the two of them?


Thanks, D, that was fun!


Thanks E, that was fun too!


Thanks Luca, that was SUPER fun!

At the Team Pregame NFL Kickoff Event

The happy ladies of the Pregame staff.


Sometimes, Mike dorks it out.


Not to make E jealous, but then how cute are they, too?

At Girl Slumber Party

This is how that evening went down.


Sherri & I dominated Seen It!

 

I'm writing a longer entry, but YOU NEED TO KNOW

That the Beyonce "B-Day" album is THE BEST ALBUM IN YEARS. It's so good that shamus called me just to recite lyrics and tell me how good it was.

If you listen to nothing else, which would make you slow on the uptake - but whatever, listen to "Irreplaceable." That song speaks to me.

kisses!

 

Jocelyn, Meet Bitchslap. Bitchslap, Meet Jocelyn.

You know what I appreciate about this email...that you keep the party binging going long after you said you needed to quit. I mean we are going onto month 3 (yes, you started in July) and halloween and x-mas are rightaround the corner. Please no new resolutions until after the Super Bowl. Just accept that alcohol and no sleep will be your m.o. until you get knocked up and married...and yes, at this rate, in that order.

:)
Love,
xxxxx

I mean, please tell me, is that smiley emoticon and "Love" supposed to make this email "fun?"

 

I'll Call You Later. Seriously.

Listen, here's my last four days.

On Friday night I got two hours of sleep. Maybe three. Not only that, but I crashed out in somebody's room in a casino, so when I had to head on out to the airport to go to Denver at 6am, I still had on my party dress and heals, but I looked all disheveled. It doesn't matter if your evening was perfectly innocent or perfectly naughty, when you're walking out of a casino by yourself at 6:00am in your party clothes, it's the "hooker walk," because that's what they think you are.

I met Ry at the Catholic Church at 6:30am to make our 8:00am flight. I took the flight wearing a tiny black party dress with a SWEATSHIRT pulled over it and FLIP FLOPS. CLASSY.

I worked all day in Denver on Saturday. Like, worked from the time we got off the plane. Then we had to take our account rep out to eat and for some drinks. Then we had to work some more when we got back. I got five hours of sleep Saturday night.

I WORKED MY ASS OFF AT THE BRONCOS GAME all day on Sunday. I looked forward to wrapping that up (even though it was super fun and we'll talk more about it later with pictures) and having a relaxing dinner and some drinks and maybe some hot tub action later. Ha. I'm not even sure I can legally tell you all of the stories about why that didn't happen. We finally had dinner and drinks and got back to the hotel and did a little work. Then I went to print out the boarding passes and we realized our flight out was at 7:00am. So we had to get up at 4:00am because the Denver airport is 45 minutes away from ANYTHING. Did I also mention that on each of these crack ass early morning flights we took we had to haul HUGE MASSIVE BOXES of schwag and stuff with us? So there we were, at 4:00am, trying to tape up huge boxes and lug them to the airport.

I'm ass tired, yo. AND, AND, AND we came straight to the office from the airport and we both have to work MNF tonight. I'm starting to look my age.

And Ry and I accidentally wore matching shirts to the office today. Even more embarassing.

 

The Most Beautiful Thing I've Read Since A Yellow Raft in Blue Water

This is a very long entry about a book. If that's not so much your thing, just scroll right below it to where there are five entries about partying, drinking, nakedness and boys.

Because you may or may not recall that I have, for a very long period of time, claimed a close tie between A Yellow Raft in Blue Water and The Book of Laughter and Forgetting as my favorite books. But I do believe I will be, at the very least, adding Red Earth and Pouring Rain to the list.

So, firstly, a caveat. I can almost hear G-Man of Playsure, upon reading this, mentioning that I have a thing for post-colonialist literature and films. No, no. Let me be clear that it's broader than that. I have a thing for film and literature about the emotional and psychological impacts of political systems on individuals, thank you very much. For a long time, the best things in that arena came out of Eastern Europe. Hence my Kundera obsession. In the recent past, the best things in that arena have been about post-colonial South East Asia. That's all.

Read Earth and Pouring Rain is really two novels held together by a meta thread.

The first novel is a traditional Indian mythological tale told by a poet who has been reincarnated as a monkey. Actually, there's another layer. The monkey is telling the story, but he's telling the story as though it were told by somebody else. And the story is beautiful and allegorical of the changing of India from its traditional culture to its post-colonial culture by tracing the tale of three brothers through history, branching from before they were even born and the larger than life lovers and warriors who were their ancestors, all the way until the final brother, the poet (also the monkey if you haven't figured it out) is cursed with immortality - the irony being that he's cursed with a traditional, magical Indian curse in a world where there is no longer tradition or magic.

I will say of the first novel, by the way, that this is where the challenge in the novel was for me, and probably for most people. Because it is written as a traditional myth. So many of the early ancestor characters disappear early on, and there's no shortage of begatting, and it really does take you until far into the myth to start to understand the importance of why you read ten pages about so-and-so's brother's grandmother's handmaiden. In this case, you have to have at least five or so of the foundational blocks of the story in place before much of it starts to matter. And that's a challenge because it's hard to feel like you need to keep moving with it.

The second novel is a contemporary story told by an American-educated Indian man about a road trip he takes in college and how his self-discovery on that road trip leads him to rediscover his connection to true India, or the version of true India that existed after colonization. Yes. It is as trite as that, but it's trite done exceptionally well in most places. Nobody does a road trip tale perfectly, but as road trip tales go, this one has moments that will melt you.

The two novels are held together with a meta storyline about how the monkey/cursed poet has regained his human consciousness and it buying his place in enlightenment through telling the story, but because he is tired and sick and dying, the American-educated Indian man, who is the son of the family who houses the monkey, relieves the monkey by telling his story as well. There are also other characters and dieties involved in this. THERE IS A LOT GOING ON.

In the main novel, the first novel, the one with the traditional Indian story, there's this fantastic, I guess it's an allegorical use of characters, but that's not really the right way to say it. The three brothers are set up so that you can see the multi-level ways in which the Indian culture was stripped by the British. The one brother is a commoner, and he spends the novel searching for somebody to follow, and eventually he realizes that the struggle to follow fighters is harder than the struggle to follow winners. The second brother is a warrior. And for a long time, you think that he's going to be representative of the real struggle between the Indians and the Brits. But in the end, it's the brother who's the poet who represents where India lost itself. And it lost itself when the Brits started stripping their traditional cultural stories, legends, and languages. I totally oversimplified that for the purpose of not writing for three hours about this book. But there's a beautiful passage in the book right before one brother kills the other that I think sums a lot of it up:

"You say I betrayed you, but I am a Rajput, and I have given of my body. I have never been afraid of death, none of us have. We have laughed at it. But you, you were supposed to be a poet. You were supposed to tell us what we should become, what we were. I would have been a king. I would have been anything if you had shown me how. It is you who have betrayed us."

It's really beautifully done. And as a side note, one of the benefits of making one of your protagonists a poet is some really lovely poetry, like this, from which the title is taking and which I will someday get tattooed on my body when I fall in love forever (so probably never, but it's a nice thought):

"What could my mother be
to yours? What kin is my father
to yours anyway? And how
did you and I meet ever?

But in love
our hearts have mingled
like red earth and pouring rain."

There's also this quote from the book, which sat in my head for weeks:

"The world is the world. It is you that makes the horror."

I was going to end this with my favorite passage. It's a toss up between a passage I like to call "Dissapointment is a an angry disease," which is beautiful. But I'm going to go with the ending passage, which is about how stories continue and they are what tie us together no matter what else may be happening. Enjoy. I read this about a dozen times.

"I must tell a story. Listen. I am about to tell a story. I will tell you about wives, and good doctors, soldiers, poets, tribesmen, loafers and goondas, untrustworthy characters, loan-takers, dashing pilots, fast horses, card-players, socialites, actresses, politicians, I will tell you about underground deals, black money, great loves, cross-country runs, farmers and their crops, fisheries and city councils, religious leaders and, of course, cavalrymen. I will tell you a story that will grow like a lotus vine, that will twist in on itself and expand ceaselessly, till all of you are a part of it, and the gods come to listen, till we are all talking in a musical hubbub that contains the past, every moment of the present, and all the future. And the great music of that primeval sound will reach Saira's ears, and she will rise from her bed, she will shake off her bandages adn she will jump down to stand with her hands on her hips, and she will say, laughing, what's the matter, yaar, why so long-face, want to play a game of cricket? And we will all walk to the maidan holding hands, and as we walk you and I will look from side to side and we will see them all, we will see that everyone is thre, all our fathers and mothers and their enemies, all together now, and in the crowd a bottomless basket of laddoos will pass around, and we will eat our fill. We will play till the sun sets, feeling fine and free and running about. Then we will sit in circles saying, bless us, Ganesha; be with us, friend Hanuman; Yama, you old fraud, you can listen if you want; and saying this we will start all over again."

 

Girls Gone Wild. My Entry Titles are ORIGINAL.

Right. I've decided to just tell my three favorite stories/revelations from the girlie weekend. Tomorrow, a book review. That's how we're shifting things around here.

We partied like this for two nights (you know the drill, click a pic to see a bigger one).






And so just to review, Saturday was:
1. Caramel
2. Light
3. McDonald's
4. Rum Jungle

And Sunday was:
1. Body English
2. Rainbow Room
3. Various locations across the city

A Revelation: Why This Weekend Was So Good
I realized the other day why this weekend, in particular from about 1:oopm on on Sunday, was so, so, so beautiful to me. And why I love all of the people I spent the weekend with so very, very much.

I talk a lot about how my life philosopy is that if you just follow the path that is laid out in front of you, life will be beautiful (not perfect, but full of more beautiful moments than otherwise). I talk a lot about not resisting what's right there ready for you to follow even if it's scary to do that at first.

I don't really always do that.

But this last weekend was like that. Friday was like that for sure. If you'd told me we'd end up at The Sweetest Boy in the World's House eating steaks at 6:00pm on Saturday, I wouldn't have guessed that. But that appeared, and nobody fought it, and it was lovely. If you'd told me we were going to meet good, solid Indiana boys and hang out and talk with them about things we shared, or that we'd be eating Chicken McNugget appetizers on the way into Mandalay Bay, I wouldn't have guessed that. But that appeared, and nobody fought it, and it was lovely. If you'd told me we'd end up at my place with pizza and make up, and then we'd get our dance on, and then at 4am I'd find myself walking to the strip with no real destination in mind and a boy who makes me want to listen to him, I wouldn't have believed you. But that appeared, and nobody fought it, and it was lovely.

And so I just want to say thank you to the Friday girls, and the weekend girls, and the sweetest boy in the world and AT&T (who needs a better name) and all the other cool people we talked to all weekend long for going with the flow. It's easier to do that in the dark of night in Vegas than day to day in your life, but you don't get reminded to do it day-to-day in your life if you don't surround yourself with people who know how to just let go when it's late at night in Vegas. So thanks. I feel very ... reminded. Reminded of my philosphy, and that maybe I've done too much resisting lately.

A Story: Trevor the Male Stripper
Right on. So we're at Rum Jungle at 3:00am. It's real freakin' ghetto in Rum Jungle at 3:00am. The tables have started to clear adn they're really just letting anybody in. Our first (and only) VIP scenario is with these crazy Russians/Isrealis/Mexicans (nobody could really tell what nationality they were). They ordered three full bottles of tequilla. I took one look at those and felt like I was going to be sick. So we moved on.

Here's the thing about the vibe at Rum Jungle. It is TOTALLY ACCEPTABLE for guys there to, if they think you're hot, just grab you by the arm and pull you out of your girl posse to come talk to them. Creepy, yeah? But you know that's the deal when you go there. It happens to each of us pretty much at one point or another. And then the rest of us, at some point, realize somebody is missing and we go back to collect them. That process usually takes about five minutes.

I got the winner on this trip, ladies. The. Winner. We're walking through the bar trying to find a "hot spot", and Trevor, real name, yanks me over to chat. I'm cool about it though, because I know my girls will come back for me. I know this because within two minutes I've sent a text that just says "Come get me please." It's crowded though, and it takes them a while. It takes them long enough that I've gotten to the point of the conversation where I actually have to start asking questions like, "So what do you do?" Which is what I ask.

And Trevor looks at me like I'm an idiot and says, "Can't you tell?"

And honestly, I haven't actually looked that closely, but suddenly I notice the overly defined pecs and the shaved chest, and I know. I KNOW.

"You're a male stripper, yeah?" I say. And I'm right. And in a blessed moment I look over and see that the girls are there to collect me, because, in my head, I'm freaking out.

I'm not freaking out because Trevor is a male stripper, because, honestly, I would have liked to have had a conversation about that. I'm freaking out because I'm not sure what it says about me that the male stripper wanted to hit on me. Do I look like a girl who will be into a male stripper? Maybe, I'll concede, that on a club night, I look like that girl. And how do I feel about that? And honestly, until I started writing that story I had forgotten that I even had ever had that freak out in my head, so I'm going to let it go.

A Lesson: If you don't understand girls' night, then you don't understand girls.
Let's say you are a boy and you have been hanging out with four girls. At some point, two of the four girls decide they want to do something that you can't join them for, and so the other two girls politely explain that they'll have to call you later because it's girls' night and they have to go with their girlfriends.

Don't be pissed about that. Girls aren't going to split up on girls' night unless they ALL agree to it, and most of the time, that's not likely to happen. So understand that if you're hot on a girl who's on a girl's night, your percentage chance of her leaving her group is honestly less than 10%. It may happen. She may get the blessing. It's more likely that it won't. But the kicker is, you can't be bitter about that. You just can't, because if you don't understand girls' night, then you don't understand girls. Girls are playing the game too, dude. You're not the only playa playa out there in Vegas. Good lord. As a certain girl brilliantly said, you killed 125% of the game in your immediate area.

A Lesson: Don't Hesitate in Vegas
Here's another one. You're a boy and some girls have given you their cell numbers so you can call and meet up later. You call. The girls say "Come on over to the Mandalay Bay!" You hang up.

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DO NOT call back and say some dumb ass shit like "We just want to make sure you're not on the verge of going home or something, because we don't want to come all the way over there and have you bail in an hour or whatever." You know what happens when you hesitate in Vegas? You miss out. For example, in this situation, you will be told by the very pretty girl on the other end of the phone, "I can't guarantee that. Don't come." And then she will hang up and go home to sleep. You can't hesitate in Vegas. See Revelation Number One Above. Go with the path in front of you. Particularly late at night in Vegas.

And here end the stories and pictures from the weekend. We're talking books tomorrow.

 

How to Really Impress a Guy You've Been on Three Dates with in 10 Steps

1. First, go out and party like this. Click any picture to see a bigger version.







2. When that party wraps up and you and TrickyNic are obliterted and Toni isn't fantastic either, ensure that the drunkest of the three of you (which is NOT you, btw), starts SCREAMING "I want to go swimming, I want to go swimming." It's 2am, so there are no pools open and you don't know what to do with her. In your drunken stupor, think that it's a good idea to call THESWEETESTBOYEVERINTHEWORLD because he has a sick swimming pool. Call him and scream into the phone: "I'M DRUNK AND MY GIRLS ARE DRUNK AND WE'RE AT NEW YORK NEW YORK WILL YOU COME PICK US UP ON THE STRIP AND LET US SWIM IN YOUR POOL?" Remember later that he's a stand up kind of guy when he comes to collect all three of your drunken asses from the pavement outside of NY NY.

3. Once he collects you and your two drunk ass friends, make sure that the drunkest of the three of you starts screaming "I NEED PIZZA! I NEED PIZZA." Be amazed when THESWEETESTBOYEVERINTHEWORLD pulls over to the grocery store on the way home (because even in Vegas it's too late to order) to run in and buy frozen pizzas for the three of you.

4. Make sure that while THESWEETESTBOYEVERINTHEWORLD is in the grocery store, you crawl over into the driver side of the Jeep, open the door and lean your head out to "Get some air." Make sure that when he comes back, you look up at him and mutter "I really don't feel fantastic right now."

5. Next, when you arrive at his house, make absolutely sure that before he can even lock the front door behind him, you and your two drunk ass friends have ripped off all your clothing and run and jumped in the pool. Classy.

6. Eat pizza and have all three of you ramble drunkenly at him. Suddenly, look at him and say, "I'm going to be really sick." Run to the downstairs bathroom and puke in the toilet. Make sure you look as AWESOME as possible while you do this, with your pool towell and your mousy pool hair and your running makeup. When you are done, be sure to look up at him and say, "Do you have an extra toothbrush?" Because you are a classy girl who would want to brush her teeth now.

7. Go to bet and LEAVE THESWEETESTBOYEVERINTHEWORLD downstairs to manage the drunkest of your drunk ass friends. Then really show how classy you are when the drunkest of your drunk ass friends insists on coming in to say goodnight to you before she goes to sleep and crawls on top of you and screams at you to wake up for 10 minutes.

8. When you wake up in the morning, tell THESWEETESTBOYEVERINTHEWORLD that you need to go to the grocery store because you want to make everybody breakfast, but make sure that when you go downstairs to leave for the grocery store, the drunkest of your drunk ass friends is standing ass naked in the middle of the kitchen looking for Diet Coke.

9. Then make sure that when you get back from the grocery store, your other drunk ass friend is laying ass naked by the pool. Jesus.

10. On the way back to the strip to drop Drunkest Friend off and get your car out of valet, make sure less drunk friend invites herself and you back to THESWEETESTBOYEVERINTHEWORLD 's house for the REST OF THE DAY to lay out by the pool. Make sure she also gently suggests that grilling steaks on his sick grill would also be awesome. Then actually do that.

For the record, then do awesome and sweet things for that boy all week while telling him what a super star he is and wondering actively why on earth he would ever ask you out again. Don't mention to him that your crazy girlfriends are coming back to town in a few weeks while you do this. Make him lots of dinners and walk the dog for him.

 

So what was actually your favorite part of girls behaving REALLY badly weekend?

It wasn't all the partying. It wasn't all the boys. It wasn't all the good food and booze. It wasn't even steaks and wine by the pool. And man oh man do I have a lot of stories to tell right now, but I REALLY want to tell you what my favorite part of girls behaving REALLY badly weekend was.

On Sunday, Shadalan, Kung Fu Xtine and The Loveliest KathM and I met up for post-we-were-out-way-too-late-drinking-way-too-hard-partying-way-too-much lunch at 1:00pm at Paymon's. Kung Fu Xtine and The Loveliest KathM had checked out of the IP and the plan was that they were going to catch a 5:oopm flight and go home. Shadalan was going to spend one more night with me and then drive back on Monday, but we were just going to hang low that night.

Halfway through lunch, The Loveliest KathM says, "I really feel like we didn't meet our Vegas party goals. I feel like there should be one more night of partying to really bring it up to the level that we're used to."

And then there is a moment of silence. And then, within ten minutes, the girls had canceled their flights and moved all of their stuff into my place and people were heading out to shop and buy and extra club outfit and we were talking about where to go that night.

And the next six hours were my favorite six hours of the weekend. We took long naps with the cats. We exchanged gifts and modeled new slutty clothes. We read tarot cards. We ordered pizza and salad. We listened to gangster rap AND Mandy Moore and did each other's makeup and hair and clothes. We told each other how awesome we thought we were.

And right now, every guy I know is imagining this happening while we wear thongs and have pillow fights in slow motion. Sorry, I don't want to kill your buzz, but the pictures below are really more what it looked like.

I love those girlies. It's never dull when they're around.

Click any pic to see a larger version.

 

Vote to Name this Entry- #1

People I said I'd call Monday - sorry. I got in at 8am. Anyway, potential titles for this entry:

a). The most important thing anybody will say to me this year.

b). WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'M BORDERLINE CRAZY?

c). Call me! I'm beautiful, smart, and borderline crazy!

d. The most important thing that the man I met on Sunday will say to me ever: By which I mean that it's the most important thing he'll say to me ever because I will probably never speak to him again. I will probably never speak to him again because even though he is amazingly smart and very cute and I had one of the best "where the night takes you" nights ever in Vegas with him on Sunday night/Monday morning, the next morning I found out that - because apparently everybody who lives in LA, Vancouver or Vegas knows everybody else who lives in LA, Vancouver or Vegas - he actually knows RacerBoy, and I thought "Wow. That could be awkward." And so I decided to call RacerBoy and get out ahead of the situation. And so I called, literally 20 minutes after we picked Kung Fu Xtine up the next morning, and I said to RacerBoy "I met some of your friends this weekend." Only I didn't even have to say the names of the friends I met because he already knew everything about the weekend because APPARENTLY SOMEBODY HAD CALLED HIM ALREADY. And then my girls were like "What kind of GIRLS are those guys? Who makes phone calls like that?" And then Kung Fu Xtine decided we would call the boy "AT&T" because apparently he's like the phone company. She's so funny. But Tuesday morning, I was all like, "Wow. Awkward." AND THEN we realized that the reason everybody knew everything was because of some people who we ran into at the Rainbow Room and that those people also know everybody in Vancouver, LA or Vegas - and apparently Jersey too. So that's how that happened AND IT SUCKED. You would think people should be more concerned with other things. My mom is so proud right now. Love you! Mean it!

But anyway, what he said was:

"Let me tell you about you. You like to use the fact that you walk a pretty tight line between being cool and being mildly crazy as an excuse to not do a lot of the things you're capable of, and that's ridiculous. You're smart. You're beautiful. You have your shit together. People want to be around you. That excuse is bullshit. It's just bullshit. Get over it.

And next week, I should dress up like a priest and you should dress up like a nun and we should make out in front of old people and children. It would be great."

It was a great weekend! I can't wait to tell you more about it!