“I’m about to make out with a cowboy. I’ll call you back!”

C-bus, baby! Such a perfect sunny weekend to wine/dine/shop in such a vibrant and eclectic city. Shortly after arrival, spent Saturday afternoon doing above-mentioned activities in the Short North. Fueled the sweaty walk-a-thon with lunch at Zetas. Mmmm… gyros. Pulled myself off my wealthy-wishing cloud before I potentially could have bargained with the devil for some serious cash at Dr. Mojo for jeans. Love, heart, love American Apparel where I wished I had some man in my life to purchase hot pink briefs as a silly gift. Their store magazine is some seriously funny shit. A trip around High wouldn’t be proper with a visit to The Garden porn store acting like giggly teenagers. I did not buy a pocket rocket. Maybe some magazines. The men in country issue of Playgirl are HOT, yo. Tried to cool off with some Cold Stone. I just could *not* stomach yet another “Gotta Have It!” Two nuns and a priest waited in line behind us and seriously took it down a notch. It’s already hot in here!

Best to leave before I burst into flames.

Made a serious dent in the checking account with dinner at Hyde Park. I’m totally used to dates paying for a piece of lettuce and a bowl of au gratin for the low-low-low price of… was that meal seriously $83?

Moving right along. Waiting for valet streetside and none other than Kirk Herbstreet chatting beside us with his buddies before creeping along in his shiny new beemer extremely close to the curb. Keeping with the no-more-dents-to-Mel’s-cashola contract with self, provided ourselves with libations at Novaks where I immediately volley a “don’t-I-know-you” spiel and receive a free drink just for playing. Right after I purchased another freshie, some little boy who is about to embark on his senior year in college provides me with my “favorite.” Uh, do I *look* like a whiskey girl to you? Yup. He’s easily somewhere between the ages of 21-23. I know how to pick ‘em.

Spice – all VIP. Bottle of vodka courtesy of some friendly Columbus boy-pals. Met a cowboy… from Australia??!! Didn’t really make out with him.

But it was a funny way to end a phone conversation. Had another random steal me from my outdoor smoking post to have a shot and a dance at the bar. When he turned around dancing, I walked away. You would have too if you saw his “moves.”

Cops outside. Take a picture. Am I biting his nipple? They weren’t too happy with the little ladies.

Firefighters outside. Take a picture. Hot!

Baseball hat boy #1: Paul who was going home to his ex-girlfriend. SUUUUREE, here, take my number. Baseball hat boy #2: name and whereabouts unknown, but received a drunken hang-up from him around 5am. Oh, I didn’t realize there were TWO guys in baseball hats outside Spice that I passed along my 216-ish 411. Already keeping ‘em stalking. Pizza at home. Found 12 reasons, er photos, as to why Mel should not wear skirts out when intentions are for reaching alcoholic extremes.

Yes, I mooned the photographer. And no, I’m not posting it here.

Sent/received too many drunk text messages. All in a drunken woman’s work…

Best text conversation with DA (yet again — just wouldn’t be a Saturday night): Pancakes now!
Mel: not home cbus (or something similarly put)
DA: Bad girl… i will discipline u when u get home

Sunday spent basking among the local hotties at the Quarry pool.

Cooked out. Ate somewhere close to 80 times. Left on note of a fabulous strawberry shortcake.

Drank an Americano on the drive home… car started to freak out on me while driving past CLE airport telling me I was driving with my doors open… and the hood. Great. Stupid NASA screwing with my car’s computer. As result of aforesaid statements, will probably not sleep tonight.

Maybe I’ll just sit here all night in my bikini.

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