Party Rock in Someone’s House

Last night was the first real “night out” I’ve had since I started working again.  The past few weekends, and every day in between, I’ve just been too tired to do things.  Being on work-hiatus for 9 months has made it hard as hell to get back into the routine of being awake for a full day.  My life is all about the C.R.E.A.M. now though.

COFFEE RULES EVERYTHING AROUND ME

Friday was pretty usual for me, got home early enough to chill out and fall asleep early watching Ancient Aliens.  I don’t care how much everyone makes fun of me, I love that show so hard and Giorgio Tsoukalous could get it.  There, I said it.  I want to have a romantic star-gazing date with him and talk about ancient alien theories while we look up at Orion’s belt and think about our alien forefathers.

Last night I was excited to go out and do things with people and throw some drinks down my face-hole.  So excited that I double booked.  To be fair, Mike made some plans and then I made some other plans and we’re just so rockstar we decided we could do em both.  First up was drinks and wings with some of Mike’s oldest’s friends from school at Wild Wings.  I had several varieties of drinks and a shot and didn’t think “oh, sangria, beer, and vodka drinks aren’t a good combo” I just thought “this will make a great drunk-base for when I go to my brother’s house later and school his friends at beer pong.”

The second half of our night was scheduled as a house party at my brother’s.  When I texted him that I was on my way, he said the party moved to his friend Adrian’s house instead.  Ugh.  If i’d known this ahead of time, I really wouldn’t have gone.  I’m too old for “house parties” as it is though, I’m grown and can go to bars.  Not drinking in someone’s smoky basement.  The whole place was a fog with whatever smoke was going on there and I hate smoking so much.  The other half that really bothered me about this is that my brother first met Adrian because he lived in the apartment downstairs from my aunt, who we lived with right after my father died.  So it’s like “hey come to this party at the place you lived during the worst part of your life ever!”  I don’t want to feel my emotions, which is why I started in on Jack and Coke when I got there.

Regardless, I had an OK time and the saving grace was really that there was a ping pong table.  Ain’t nothing wrong with ping pong.  After we left the party, we got WHITE CASTLE.  It was Mike’s first time!  How can you live in NJ and never had those tiny shitty (literally) burgers that your intestines will regret is way beyond me.  We drove home, eating sliders, and promptly arriving home threw all our very-smoke-smelling clothes into the wash.

So that was my big night out.  I think I had one of each drink from the alcohol food groups:  beer, vodka, wine and whiskey.  Tonight is the REAL night out though:  HUNGER GAMES.  We’re going to see it at one of the AMC dine-in theaters, so I’ll probably feel all guilty and shit having dinner while watching something called “hunger” games.  Oh, and if that wasn’t great enough, MAD MEN finally comes back tonight!  It’s like a holiday for white people.

side story:

My brother is gonna watch my cat at his house for me when I go on vacation.  My cat is black, my brother is ghetto, and he always calls my cat, whose name is Little Guy, Little N*gga.  Last night I said to my brother “Are you excited to watch my Lil’ N*gga next month?” He got all smiley and proud looking and said “really???” and gave me a hug.  I was like whoa… I didn’t know you missed my cat that much.  Then he patted my belly and asked when I was due.  My brother honestly thought that I was announcing my pregnancy by calling my fetus Lil’ N*gga in an ambiguously smoke-filled basement with a jack and coke in my hand.  What the hell is wrong with my family?

Also note, my brother and I… we don’t look alike at all, even though we have the same parents.  We’re mostly Polish, but my dad was half black and it definitely shows in my brother, whereas I just look like The Whitest Girl Ever.  When we walked into the party and he was introducing me to some ho that should not have been wearing the tiny shorts with those flabby thighs, she asked “Oh, you’re his sister from the Polish side of the family, aren’t you?” Um… what?  We are both from the same side of the family.  Apparently we look SO different that she assumed we only had one parent in common.

My brother from the same mother.  And father.
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