Putting the damage on

I don't even know where to begin with this weekend. Well, I suppose I should start off with the big fight. I am in a HUGE fight right now with my liver. He is actually refusing even the sight of alcohol right now. He is completely on strike and contemplating a job change. Geez, a weekend and overtime and he gets all up in arms and shit.

Although, this was no ordinary weekend. This was a birthday extravaganza. Yup, Saturday was the official 10th Anniversary celebration of Poo-Dell's Sweet 16. And in typical fashion, we had an entire birthday extravaganza celebration starting with the opening party Thursday night, right through the closing party last night. There's nothing like four solid days of drinking to make the thought of alcohol less appealing than helping Grandma change her colostomy bag.

Thursday night we started with the opening party at JR's, which then moved over to the GL. There may or may not have been some pole dancing there by two of the girls. I won't reveal their identities right now. (Side note, it just dawned on me that in the last seven days, I was drunk for five of them. Spectacular. That is the kind of accomplishment that needs to go on my resume.)

Friday night I thought would be slightly tamer since we had a house party, hosted by the always lovely Annie. Not to be confused with Annie's and the fish bowl. Although, I am pretty sure that these two were drinking wine out of fish bowls. Around 1 AM, Poo-Dell's brother, Good Will Hunting, decided that he absolutely had to go find someone to "penetrate". His words, not mine. Trust me, it sounds even sexier coming out of his Boston-accented mouth. We hit up JR's for the trick buffet and found it to have been well picked over. I did run into a group of guys I randomly spent a weekend with in Key West though. Long story.

The next day I actually stayed home and did domestic shit all day long. Meanwhile, Roomie was off suffering at work. Oh how I laughed at her and her terrible hangover when she got home at 1:30, shortly after I finally woke up. Hehehe. BTW, that bitch is now laughing at me as she sits home watching Oprah and I am miserable at work. That night we finally left the ghetto for our first stop of the night, Blondie's home for some pre-boozing.

From Blondie's, we headed off to SE for some good old-fashion prayer circles, er uh, strippers. Yes, that's what we did. We went to Wet for their 11th Anniversary and for Good Will Hunting (GWH) to "penetrate a strippah".

First of all, Mark Dalton please ask Ms. Turner not to accompany you to the stage when you are "dancing". We all know that Ms. Turner doesn't really understand the "sexy" when she hears a beat. And if you continue to use dance moves from mid-90's raves, I will have to throw my drink at you.

There was absolutely NOTHING sexy about his "performance". Oh, BTW Mr. Dalton, I don't know if you are aware right now, but sweetheart you have apparently starred in multiple porns. You can show me your penis since I can go out and see it on DVD any time I choose! The whole modesty thing really isn't fooling anyone.

Some of the strippers were not bad looking, but I'll have to agree with Dale (who was there along with our other new friend, the delightful Mr. Taylor) that there is nothing sexy about a strip club. Nor is there anything sexy about seeing a man auto-fellate himself and then slap another gentleman on the head with it. Really? Is that hot to either of you? Because if someone slapped me in the face with their dick, I think I might have to punch them in the balls. Unless I was a naughty boy and deserving of that punishment. ;) Kidding people!

After GWH gave out his number to a couple of the strippahs, we finally headed out. By this time, it was 2 AM and not a single cab was to be found in SE. Much to Poo-Dell's dismay, we headed off to metro. I can't tell you the last time I had to do a late-night metro ride from a bar or club. I wasn't that thrilled at the thought either, but when your options are to stand outside in a blizzard and pray for a cab, or to take metro, metro wins in my book.

Even though we were on the line closest to our house, Roomie and I still had a six block walk from the metro to get home. My hair had at least two inches of snow caked around the base of my faux-hawk. Hot.

The next morning, it was time for the closing party, aka brunch at the Beacon followed by drinks at JR's. I love me some brunch at the Beacon. However, I know where these kind of days lead. Sure enough, yesterday was no exception. Of course, we had requested to sit in my girlfriend Desi's section. If you have never had Desi serve your drunks for brunch at the Beacon, you simply don't know what you are missing. What other waitress would go to the bar for you at 4 PM, to get more vodka so that you can have one final batch of mimosas. Oh, and to all of you challengers out there, we have yet to lose a brunch contest so bring it on. We will out last you and be there until we are practically thrown out!

From brunch, working a healthy champagne/vodka buzz, we thought it would be brilliant to pop into Biddy's for a Long Island. Yes, because what we all need now is a drink with multiple shots. Somewhere along the way, GWH invited one of the "dancers" to join us at Biddy's. Of course the strippah that comes in is not at all the one we assumed he was. GWH blamed this fact on the strippah he wanted giving the other his number. I was quick to point out that GWH was drunk enough to believe that he made out with auto-fellator (God that would have been funny), so I can only imagine he was handing out his number like sticks of gum.

After that watching GWH blow of said strippah, it was off to JR's for, well, to be honest a lot of haziness. I remember Taylor showing up at some point. I do not remember spilling my drink on him and then breaking the glass. God, I am such a fucking class act sometimes. Sorry Taylor! I can only imagine how pretty I must have looked. Somehow we left JR's and ended up at Halo. I had no business being in public at this point. Thank God we didn't stay for long.

After a drunk cab ride home, wondering if my drunk mind was imagining things when the news announced that Cheney shot someone, it was home to watch Housewives. Yeah, I definitely don't remember everything that happened. Thank God for Tivo.

Needless to say, I was MISERABLE at work today. Still am. Girls, I love you, but I don't want to see any of you until spring.