Is anyone else winded?

Half-assed Weekend Wrap-Up. So… I met this guy that we’ll have to call No.1, and not in like some perverse bathroom joke kind-of-way, but because my party buddy and I met two guys with the same name and he-and-I talked first, so he’s No.1, kind-of-way, anyways… met him the day that Cinci boy decided to promote his non-existance and hung out with him three days in a row. Friday night, we crossed paths on W. 6th prior to ex-girlfriend conflict. Saturday, got him to show his hot lil’ self again downtown at Bar Flyy. Sunday, sat around with margaritas and Old School — but like, who’s really watching the movie cuz I’m watching him… or something equally as corny.

I celebrated with my hot-as-me sisters over the weekend and with great success got my sis to do two shots — uh, she *never* drinks. And my designated driver is shot — no pun intended, really. Haven’t had dinner at Waterstreet for what seems like ages and totally craving some of dat mac-n-cheese spectacular goodness in a bowl — which of course I left extra for breakfast cravings. Ooh, and the iceberg salad lettuce wedge with shitloads o’ roquefert. And now that I feel all heavy-and-loaded with fatty foods, let’s go pretend to be hot at Liquid. Still can’t get a drink after 10. Blind Pig — woo! Dancing!

Bar Flyy — check out the hottie I met last week! Then the night’s over around 1. Yes, I was home by 1:30… but took a pow-wow with my sister and my Marlboros in the front yard of my condo building until 5-ish. In the wet grass. In flannel PJ’s cuz seriously it’s Cleveland and of COURSE, it has to be negative 20 and I’ll NEVER be able to wear my skirts this summer. Feh!

As I was saying… Sunday, popped into gram’s for a fridge supply of rigatonis, kielbasa, pot roast, and cake. Lots of cake. Afterward, asforementioned, hung out with No.1. Drank… did I only have ONE margarita? Pathetic. Not only one date planned for this week, but a No. 2 with No.1 for the Cubs/Tribe fiasco-that-I-will-already-predict-on-the-diamond Monday. Confusing? Followed by Tuesday night’s game with my dad for his birthday/father’s day double-header.

And what better way to stretch this past weekend that we haven’t quite finished talking about yet by having Laundry Night on Monday. Woo! Check me out. I’m being all domesticated and stuff. I’ve got a shitload of travel plans over the next couple weekends and that shit just needed to be washed already… and I don’t want to look at that Reds #6 T-shirt in my laundry basket for one more second. Hide it away. Far, far away.

Sorry, Freel. You may be reintroduced at the “Mel-Dumped-By-Cinci” Party during interleague sessions next weekend. And speaking of baseball, my favorite Italian has been bumped back down to Buffalo.

Seriously. Like I know Vasquez is a serious piece of man-candy, but c’mon! Nobody on that team can beat those sexy stocky legs-n-ass in them pants…. err, grow such a wicked awesome goatee, I mean. #12 on a scale from 1-10 in my book. Anytime. Any. Time. Anyways…

Plans. Lots of plans: Columbus this weekend for the return of the 3 Amigos. Oh, boy…

Weekend of the 4: I may end up in Wyoming — but slim chance it may be West Palm Beach. Don’t ask yet.

Weekend of… after that: White Water Rafting/Camping Trip with 50 of my closest friends… and beer.

Weekend… three of July: Atlanta

… and then you’ll just have to keep up. All those things I planned *not* to do because of this stupid boy that I found myself completely engrossed, I will be doing. Well, not doing him, obviously…

And I’m eating Jell-O right now and seriously pissed off they don’t sell it with the Vodka/Rum/Everclear already added.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.