Tag Archive: alcohol


It was never really a mystery to us why it seemed like our entire floor in the dorms in college hated us.

Sarah and I lived in the room at the very end of the hallway. Our perfect square of a room was the gathering place every Thursday night to watch The OC and later Grey’s Anatomy. Our room was the meeting place of the whole group of us for those three or four nights a week we went out to parties. And later, our sophomore year of college, our room was next door to two of our good friends, whose room would blare with the latest Justin Timberlake song or One Republic’s “Apologize” before it was cool and overplayed on the radio.

We did dumb shit, like dress up like the some cracked out version of the Spice Girls and sing really, really loudly after 2 in the morning. You know, when the whiners on our floor were sleeping, and had been since 11 pm.

As a group, we’re loud. I mean, I scream and screech a lot, I laugh loudly, and I shout when I’m happy or excited. Multiply that by at least four and you’ve got my core group of friends in college. And we were together constantly.

Add in the fact that we lived in an all-girls dorm. In the really, really old dorms. As in, I lived in the same dormitory my grandmother lived in. The same dormitory my mother lived in. It’s old. We also lived in the dorm mostly populated by the college of music kids. They’re all artsy and hipster-y and obviously too smart and better than us to get loud and crazy all the fucking time, like we did. The best part about our dorm is that it was the closet to the street with all the bars on it. And it was relatively close to a lot of the off-campus housing and greek life. (And let’s get real: I loved me some fraternity parties before I was of the legal drinking age.)

I think this photo adequately demonstrates the potential Le Le and I have when it comes to getting crazy. lolz (Ps. Le, does that headband look familiar? bahaha)

My point is, our floor hated us.

We were constantly hushed and asked nicely to be quiet. And when all else failed, we were told on. When we realized that the RA’s were about to come bust us, we’d quickly finish the shot glass full of five o’clock vodka on Leah’s or my desk, turn the music off, grab our coats and fly out the door.

I mean, we didn’t want to get written up. Again. Or have to pour our alcohol down the bathroom sink. Again.

Even when we weren’t drinking (illegally) in the dorms, we were loud. And probably really, really obnoxious. I’ll leave you with this one memory I have, a memory that really reinforced the fact that everyone on our floor just did not get me, or my friends.

You know how in college dorms there are all kinds of random-ass signs for random-ass shit? Like, sign up for ballroom dancing in one of the rooms by the cafeteria, or do you need a tutor for some really hard singing class you’re taking? Well, I can’t remember why we decided to make a sign but one night we did, and we hung it on the walls all over our hallway, and all of the doors to the bathrooms, and the mirrors, and the door to the stairs.

It was a nice sign. It didn’t ask anyone to donate their first born to some demonic cult or require anyone to spend any money on anything. It was just a nice little sign to remind people to have a good day and to provide a little pick-me-up. Sometimes people just need that. Classes are hard. It’s really hard to walk fifty feet to a building across a nice little field to go sing for a couple hours a day. And it gets cold in Michigan.  And sometimes blowing off class on a Friday to play Ultimate Frisbee in Adam’s Field is just really… hard. So we posted our sign to let people know we cared.

Our sign was not appreciated. When we woke up the next morning, every single sign had been torn down and thrown away.

The people on our floor were dicks. And they hated us.

For Halloween weekend, Seneca and I did something special.

We made Skittle Vodka.

It was a couple weeks ago that I read one of Barefoot Foodie‘s posts and immediately knew that it was something I needed to do.

It was something I had never heard of and I was a little embarrassed that I didn’t think of it myself. Regardless, when I saw it, I knew I needed to enlist someone to do this with me. Seneca was just the girl.

While I was going by the instructions I had found and making vodka with the regular version of skittles, Seneca opted to make her batch of skittle vodka out of the tropical kind.

I posted a preliminary picture of this activity on my facebook page the day I started this project.

Ohhhh, yes!!

What I Used:

  • 2 big bags of skittles
  • (just over) a fifth of vodka (any kind will do!)
  • four plastic bottles
  • measuring cup
  • 4 glasses
  • lots and lots of coffee filters

I sorted each of the colors into cutesy plastic cups we had in the basement. One of the “recipes” we found said that only 60 skittles were necessary per 6 ounces of vodka but I just used 2 whole bags.  I started out by counting but decided it was a waste of time since I didn’t intend on wasting the leftover skittles.

Once they were all sorted, I sniped a pic because I like when things are organized. The purple ones are in a different cup because they were being rejected. I hate grape flavored things.

I should mention that I poured about 7 ounces of vodka into each of the plastic containers. Once all the skittles were sorted by color, I dumped the skittles into the vodka. Right away, the color started dissolving off of the skittles. Every time I walked by them, I gave each of the plastic bottles a good shake to help the candy dissolve.  It takes a while for the skittles to dissolve all the way. I let mine sit overnight.  Actually, they probably sat for a little over 24 hours.

Once all the candy was dissolved I began the long, long project of straining the skittle vodka mixture. You can see in my picture that I used hair ties to secure the coffee filters around the glasses and poured a little bit of the vodka in each glass. If you plan on making skittle vodka, I suggest you make sure you have plenty of time to strain your vodka. It took a long time and it’s a messy job. (Or I’m a child and always end up making a mess. Or, I’m a shit show and no matter what I do, I always end up sticky and covered in vodka. Either one.)

I don’t know if you’re supposed to strain it more than once, but I only strained mine once. I didn’t have any more patience by the time it was done with the first round. The most important thing is just to make sure it’s not lumpy and that you don’t have any white stuff floating around. (That sounds disgusting.)

Oh, I also changed coffee filters often.

I don’t have any more pictures of the skittle vodka process but once everything was strained and the original plastic containers were cleaned, I put the newly strained skittle-infused vodka back into the plastic containers. After that, I put the vodka in the freezer. Where it belongs.

It remained in the freezer until we were ready to drink.

There are lots of different ways to enjoy this fun little treat but we drank ours in the form of shots. Because we’re out of our minds. We did chase it with sprite, though, and that was delish.

If you drink responsibly, you could probably mix it and use actual ice cubes or something. And sip it rather than chugging it. I don’t know.

Anyway, it was awesome and I would totally do it again. Only next time I would think about laying down newspaper on the counter or something and covering myself in plastic and wearing gloves so I didn’t end up covered in it like I did this time.

1.) Last Kiss is my favorite song on Taylor Swift’s new album (besides Back to December).

2.) We watched Kindergarten Cop this morning.

3.) I am currently watching Valentine’s Day and even after falling asleep watching it twice I’m finally about to finish it. I think I must own this movie.

4.) Halloween weekend can be counted as a success!

5.) Although it makes me sad we never got an entire group shot.  I’ll share a couple pictures of our costumes!

Snow White (OBVIOUSLY), Devil in a Blue Dress, Holly Golightly from Breakfast at Tiffany's, Ringleader!!!

Le Le was Flo from the Progressive Commercials!

Megan was Ke$ha hahahaha

6.) Class actually starts THIS week. I was mistaken and super confused about that last week. But don’t worry. I’m good now. bahaha

7.) Nikki texted me asking for me to bring her pumpkin cake and then I realized there was none. So when I went to make some, I realized we didn’t have enough eggs. And I felt too hungover to drive the 8 minutes it takes to get to the grocery store so I had to bail on making more pumpkin cake. But I really wish we had some.

8.) The Skittle infused vodka I made was a huuuuuuge hit.  It was SO good. The orange one tasted like a creamsicle when we chased the shot with Sprite. Thank God I read Barefoot Foodie‘s  blog religiously and stole the idea from her.

9.) I need another nap.

See you Tuesday.

Oh hey everyone.

Here’s this week’s Sunday list:

1.) A car drove through the wall of my town’s library?

2.) I finally got to pick up the stuff I had waiting for me at the library today. The hole in the brick wall was covered by some wooden boards. It looked really, really safe/cute.

3.) Taylor Swift, Katy Perry, and Sara Bareilles sing directly from my own heart.

4.) I spent the entire day packing while hungover.

5.) The movers come tomorrow morning at 8am and the house is like… not done being packed up into boxes and shiz.

6.) I’m so excited for my hair appointment on Thursday.

7.) I really need Eclipse to be out on DVD. Like, yesterday. I watched New Moon one night last week and had many, many thoughts and a few questions. And luckily Erica understands how my brain works and didn’t even judge me for this gem: “And I’m fairly certain that Ashley Greene is a douche in real life so it’s fitting that she and Joe Jonas are togeth. They can be douchelords together.” Nor did she judge me for this one: “Why the fuck is Jasper so creepy?!” Or this one: “What is Esme’s importance in the saga? What does she bring to the table other than serving as a positive role model?” And this: “Also, Edward and Bella’s relationship is sooooo unhealthy.” And, finally, this most important thought: “Jacob is just too cute!”

I know. I need an Intervention.

8.) I found this while looking for my New Moon related texts I sent to Erica. I found this. And it’s the truth, so I’ll share this one too: “I really feel like I’m the dark and twisty Meredith and not the bright and shiny one. And it’s weird that I changed from Cristina to Meredith, but I just know I’m Meredith now.”

9.) I’m really tired.

10.) I had to perform the Heimlich Maneuver today!!! And I wanted to cry! It was scary. And the whole experience just reinforced the fact that I definitely do not possess the quality of “grace under fire” so the poor soul who ends up with me better possess that otherwise my life will be a mess.

Well, here’s to hoping that Tuesday brings more “together” me. I’m hoping to have some pictures of the move as it is in-progress to show you how things are going. Until then, my loves… until then. 🙂

LAHV YEW

1.) The only reason I enjoyed this Sunday is because I know I don’t have to be at work tomorrow because of Columbus Day. Love Love Love.

2.) You know how in Jersey Shore the boys sing “T shirt tiiiiiiiiiime!  T shirt tiiiiiiiime!” over and over before they go out and while they wear the “shirt before the shirt”?? Well, I love that they do that. It cracks me up. And last night before we went out, Megan and I sang “T shirt tiiiiiiiiime!” and it was awesome. We didn’t change our clothes for the song or anything but it was cool anyway.

3.) I was supremely hungover today.

4.) MSU beat U of M yesterday. I’m not a huge sports fan, as you know, but I really, really love the rivalry between the two schools, and it just feels really good to know that my school is better than that other school for another year.  I actually did watch the second half of the game, though, so I felt like I participated in the win.  I took a nap during the first half. It was a good one.

5.) I went to a hockey game with my friends from work on Friday. I know I have talked about this before, but I’m gonna say it again because it’s still definitely true. Yes, hockey is hot. It is. But I just can’t get past the violence. It’s so violent. And the refs just allow the fighting. I can’t understand that! If that was my honey out there, I wouldn’t be able to watch. How does Carrie Underwood do it?! And then at one of the breaks between periods (yeah, I know there are three periods in a hockey game), there was this hockey team made up of little kids. They were so precious. And I got worried and a little upset because someday if I have babies I just don’t think I could watch my little one play hockey. I would cry the whole time and be like DON’T HURT MY BABY!!! I’m such a pansy. The hockey game really made me want to watch the Mighty Ducks trilogy.

6.) My class ends this week. I am SO excited for this class to be over. This has been the most frustrating class of my MBA program and it’s deeply upsetting. I had a meltdown a couple weeks ago about it. I just can’t get an A in this class to save my life. It really, really bothers me!

7.) Speaking of my class ending, that means I have a week of no classes before the next session starts. During that week, I will be on vacation. Starting this Friday after work, I will have an entire week of vacation. I’m not going anywhere, so it’s a stay-cation but I’m still really excited. I have so much to do! I need to get a haircut, finalize my Halloween costume, and help Mom move to the new house! Busy, busy, busy!!

8.) I am watching How I Met Your Mother again. Season 3 this time. I just finished the episode where Barney and Robin sleep together. Ted got really mad but I totally dig the idea of Barney and Robin together. I have trouble reminding myself that tv shows aren’t real life and that those people don’t actually exist.

1.) Last night was a top night.

a.) started drinking perhaps wayyy to early.

b.) drank wayyyy too much

c.) the real question is what didn’t I drink last night?

d.) poor life choices were made.

e.) I’m a little embarrassed by my behavior.

f.) it was awesome.

2.) I spent almost the entire day on the living room couch, watching Studio 60 On The Sunset Strip on dvd that I got from the library. I got up to shower, brush my teeth, and get something to eat with my dad.

3.) My head hurts still. And my throat hurts a little bit. I hope I’m just hungover and not getting sick for real

4.) This weekend went by too quickly.

5.) Tailgate is still my favorite fall activity.

6.) I hate that tomorrow is Monday.

I am really, really sorry for this list today.

This list is really bad. But I just can’t think. It’s hard to put words together to form complete thoughts.

When closing arguments began, I had no idea what I would decide. I was dying to know what my fellow jurors thought of everything we had heard. Throughout the four days we were in court, we couldn’t speak to each other about anything relating to the case. Every minute spent together in the jury room was filled with small talk. I couldn’t wait to actually be able to talk about the case, ask the questions that had been haunting my dreams, and finally wrap my head around all the facts.

There was one minor hiccup once all was said and done by the attorneys. There were thirteen of us. Only twelve would go back to the jury room and deliberate. I hoped to high heaven I wouldn’t be the one to be dismissed. How disappointing it would be to sit through the entire trial and then simply be released, to be thanked for one’s service and dismissed with no other words. I would have been pissed. But, as it stands, that didn’t happen to me. The juror in seat three was released.

The judge read us our instructions and then we filed back into our ever familiar jury room.  I took my regular seat and waited to see what would happen next.  First thing was first: we were going to order some lunch. And I was to be the one to record everyone’s order due to my neat handwriting. (I always knew I’d be good for something!) Ordering lunch was a feat in and of itself but we finally got it under control. We called Mike, our court officer, and gave him our order.

That was when deliberations began. During the time it took to figure out what everyone was eating for lunch, we had also decided our foreman. Rather than picking the woman who has sat on a jury every two years since 1985, we went with the man she nominated, who sat in seat number four. We decided to tackle the lesser charges first, and then discuss the big one. It didn’t take long at all to go around the table and say “guilty” to the first count of furnishing alcohol to a minor (Brianna).  We then did the same thing for the second count of furnishing alcohol to a minor (Monika).

To begin our discussion, we went through each of our witnesses and judged his or her credibility. In doing so, we got to hash out all of the details of the case.  We tried to come up with our own timeline of events; we tried to figure out exactly what happened. We tried to determine what seemed to make sense. It was seriously difficult.  That’s when we all started to agree upon all of the holes in the story. We all seemed to have the same questions and a couple of our own theories.

The element of personal injury to the charge of criminal sexual conduct in the first degree needed to be met. While there had been a 2 millimeter “laceration” noted in the medical records of the victim, the sexual assault nurse examiner couldn’t rule out other causes of the injury, nor could she determine how long that injury had been there. The fact that there was no physical, DNA evidence anywhere could have been overlooked had the story made any sense at all.  The personal vendetta theory that the defense had been working on started to seem more and more likely the more we went over what the witnesses had testified. And don’t even get me started on the 9-1-1 tape. We listened to it at least 7 times. I could probably quote it, verbatim.  The worst part: all of it was a fabrication; the victim’s friend/girlfriend had called 9-1-1 and pretended to be the victim. And when questioned on the witness stand by the prosecuting attorney, who was livid, she didn’t have an explanation for her actions.

All in all, we couldn’t convict him of criminal sexual conduct in the first degree because we all experienced reasonable doubt.  It’s such an interesting concept, one that I didn’t even really understand until I felt it.

When we reached our verdict, I wrote Mike the note (“We have reached a verdict”) since we weren’t allowed to speak to him. Another juror called down to his office and told him we had the note ready. Then we waited a few minutes and were called back into the courtroom.  The judge asked our foreman if we reached a verdict and then he read what we had decided.

I still can’t believe I did this, but when our foreman read the verdict, I was looking at the judge.  Can you believe that? I was looking at the judge, rather than the defendant. I thought to look at him, to read his facial expression, after we had moved onto the lesser charges. I missed his very first reaction to the “not guilty” verdict for criminal sexual conduct. By the time I looked over, he looked relieved. He was shaking the hand of his attorney and he looked… thankful. In my head, I decided he was on the verge of tears because he was so relieved.

As soon as he finished reading our verdict, we were shuffled back into the jury room one last time. We waited only a few minutes before the judge came in and talked to us. She seemed to agree with our verdict, which made me feel even better about the choices we had made. She spoke candidly to us about the case. It was really awesome.

Obviously, I think you all can tell that I really, really loved my jury duty experience. I feel like I can honestly say that it is probably one of the most important things I have ever done, and I just know I’ll never forget it. And, just for the record, I think everyone should sit on a jury at least once. It’s an amazing experience!

We all filed into the courtroom and took our seats in the audience.  Straight ahead sat the judge, poised behind the giant wood desk-type thing. I sat on the left side, where the prosecuting attorney had his notes open on the table beside him. To the right was the defense, along with the man on trial. I hadn’t been expecting to see everyone there. I didn’t expect to see an actual person on trial standing in front of me when we entered the courtroom. The charges were announced and things got serious very quickly. It was no longer a fun little field trip to the courthouse, it was no longer an escape from work, it was no longer just a chance to live out an episode of Law and Order or The Good Wife. This was for real. This was a big deal. This was a man’s life. This was a family. This was so much more than just a civic duty. I suddenly felt overwhelmed by the possibility of having an actual impact on the outcome of someone’s life.

Of course, now that I've found a picture I realize he looks nothing like this man other than the fact that they basically have the same haircut. My bad.

The defendant, who had an uncanny resemblance to a character from the movie Ghost, was being charged with two counts of furnishing alcohol to a minor and one count of criminal sexual conduct in the first degree (sexual penetration of a minor, specifically, his 16-year-old daughter).

When you hear that, it’s hard not to feel the breath sucked out of your lungs. When you hear that, it’s hard not to look at that man’s face and have every fiber of your being fill with disgust. It’s hard to remain impartial. It’s hard not to be biased. It’s hard to not hate him.  You hear something like that, something truly heinous, and you want something bad to happen to him. You hear something like that, and you look at that man’s face and you think You are capable of this; you are a criminal.

I have no idea how long it took before my name was called. Everyone was fidgety and antsy to move around. It’s hard to be quiet that long. It’s hard to listen to people lay their life out for a room of 100 strangers to hear. It’s hard to hear people talk about traumatic events that inevitably make that person undesirable to the attorneys to keep as a juror.  To be honest, I thought I wouldn’t be called at all, simply because I wanted to be called so badly and I usually never win anything. I might as well have skipped up to the juror box, I was so excited. It took everything I had not to burst into song and smile until my cheeks hurt. I tried my best to play it cool as I took made my way to the first juror chair.

It's Not Real.

It’s incredibly nerve-wracking to sit in that box and face the attorneys, who pepper you with invasive questions and judge you based on your ability to be unbiased. I was asked if I knew any of the people involved in the case. I was asked my age, occupation, and if I had any close friends or family in law enforcement or involved in the legal system. I was asked if I had any personal experiences that would make me sympathize with the victim, any personal experiences that would make me unable to listen to all the evidence and testimony and remain impartial and unbiased. I was asked if I had any strong feelings about alcohol. I was asked if I had ever had experience with the court system. I was asked if I would have a problem accepting testimony via transcript rather than live testimony. I was asked if I understood that CSI was not real-life. I was asked if I knew what perjury was, and was asked to define the word. I was asked if I understood what a vendetta was, and if I could understand how a teenage girl who is on probation may have a “score to settle” with her father. I was asked if I could understand that a child may hold a grudge against his or her parent. I was asked if I understood that children lie and usually only dig the hole deeper when they do.

I was never dismissed. I sat in juror seat 1 the rest of the day, until we had thirteen jurors that the prosecution and defense were satisfied with.

We came back on Thursday morning to begin the trial. All thirteen of us were corralled in the room, which was a small room with an oval table with just enough room to squeeze twelve chairs around. One wall was made of two large windows, overlooking a parking lot. There was a tiny fridge, like the one Sarah and I had in our dorm room in college, a coffee maker, a microwave, a sink and a little bit of counter space. A shelf with five puzzle books was above a row of hangers for coats, which was located behind the chair I claimed as my own for the entire four days of the trial.  It’s interesting; all thirteen of us chose the exact same seats in the room every single time we were in there. Funny how humans really are creatures of habit.

The court officer was the only one to come in and out of the jury room with us. He gave us our notebooks and pens and gave us instructions. He’s the one who lined us up by our juror number every single time and who blocked the hallway off.

Close Enough.

I was so nervous that first day I could have thrown up. Every time, Mike, our court officer would give me the nod indicating it was time to move. He would say, “All rise for the jury” and every time I could feel my anxiety level increase. As the line-leader on our way to our seats, I remained single-focused: Just Walk. It’s a wonder I didn’t totally eat it on my way to my seat.

Opening arguments began and all thirteen of us were told two theories behind the charges.

The night of November 7th, 2009 Brian, the defendant, went to his mother’s one-bedroom apartment around ten o’clock that evening. In his hands, he brought with him a plastic bag with two fifths of brandy and went directly to the only bedroom. It was to be noted that Brian was technically not even supposed to be at that apartment, as he had gotten into an altercation with the landlord of the building and was no longer welcome on the property.

Brianna was raised by Brian’s mother, Viola, who had guardianship over her. Viola and her husband Albert lived in the living room of this tiny apartment. Albert resided in a hospital bed that was set up in the middle of the room, and Viola, who has battled cancer for a few years, cared for him. She slept on the couch while Brianna lived in the only bedroom. That night, she had two of her friends over (Monika and Aviance), and they were hanging out and listening to music on myspace.

When Brian got there, Monika had been hiding in the closet. All three girls were on probation for various reasons. Monika, due to the terms of her probation, was not to be hanging out with Brianna or Aviance. The fact that Monika was there caused a slight upset but it quickly dissipated. Brian provided the girls with the alcohol and took his seat on the window sill in the bedroom.

The timeline of events is unclear, but it wasn’t long before the girls had finished the fifth of brandy. Aviance and Brianna, who were described as “girlfriends,” had spent somewhere around 20 minutes under the blankets on Brianna’s bed while Brian sat at the window sill and Monika occupied herself with the computer. Brianna had gotten sick from all of the alcohol and had thrown up outside. After that, she came back to her room and passed out in bed. She remembered being warm and taking her shirt off to cool down but she kept her shorts on. Some time later, Brian and Aviance had gotten into an argument and Aviance was asked to leave. Monika left shortly after.

Brian had been watching TV on the edge of Brianna’s bed, but he, too, passed out in the early morning hours of November 8th. Brianna testified that the next thing she remembered was waking up at 4:16 AM with her dad inside of her. She pushed him off of her, pulled her shorts up from halfway down her legs, and went to the living room. She fell asleep in the recliner beside the couch, next to her grandmother.

9-1-1 dispatch received a call at 8:26 that morning, with a girl wanting to report a rape. Police were sent to the scene. Brianna was taken to the hospital via ambulance while the police stayed to investigate and interview everyone at the scene.  Brian had confessed to the detective that he had provided alcohol to his the girls but was surprised to learn the reason behind the police’s appearance at the apartment; he had thought it was because he wasn’t supposed to be there. DNA samples of Brian were taken, his clothes were sent as evidence and he remained in custody. At the hospital, Brianna was examined for somewhere between two and four hours. A rape kit was completed and her DNA samples were sent to be analyzed.

We heard testimony from a sexual assault nurse examiner, one of the policemen at the scene, the DNA analyst, the detective on the case, Brianna herself (even though she was quickly deemed “unavailable” due to her “lack of memory” and inability to cooperate and answer the prosecution’s questions), Aviance (Brianna’s friend and “girlfriend”), Viola (Brianna’s grandmother), and three other members of Brianna’s family.

It was incredibly difficult to have to keep all the details of the case secret. It was difficult to think through the case without talking it out. I think you guys can tell I’m just one of those people that needs to talk about everything, and that I can’t make a decision to save my life. With all the testimony I heard, the evidence in front of me, I didn’t know what to do.

It was hard not to think of the victim, how this had certainly not made her life better, how she had little support through all of this, how this had been traumatic for her. It was hard not to think of the defendant, how his life was ruined, how his family was torn apart, how he could be in prison for a very, very, very long time. It was hard not to think of the family involved, how they would never come back from this, how this had torn them apart.

I left court each day exhausted. My heart ached for everyone involved.

Well, I can tell you that 23 doesn’t really feel any different than 22.

I can also tell you that last night, out on the town, celebrating my 23rd year on earth with some of my best gals, I had the best time. It was a top night.

Thankfully, none of us had the sense to bring a camera to document the shitshow that was my birthday celebration. I did manage to snap a couple pics on my crackberry, which I will of course share with you here.  I can’t post all of them because some are embarrassing, so those will just stay on my phone for my own viewing pleasure, for moments when I need a good laugh. Or to remind my old ass that I was once, indeed, young, pretty, and fun.

that measuring cup doubled as a shot glass

At dinner, I ordered a Shirley Temple. I turned 23, I’m at a nice dinner with my mother for my birthday and I ordered a Shirley fucking Temple. Who am I?! And while I was sipping my mocktail of sprite and grenadine, I had a thought: cherry vodka and sprite! So I went and got burnetts cherry vodka, like I’m in high school and will drink anything with alcohol in it ’cause you take what you can get when you’re underage. Except not me, when I was underage I almost exclusively drank Bacardi. But that is neither here nor there.

I sent the following text to my friend: “So, I bought cherry burnetts for tonight… I’m pretty much gonna die”

It was pretty much right on point.

the only appropriate photo of the entire evening

I had a birthday crown. It was made for a four year old, I’m sure, but I wore it all night long. The “jewel” on the top of the crown had a button on it that made it light up and blink different colors. I was very excited by this for the simple fact that I could use it as a beacon to locate my girls when we inevitably got separated. Needless to say, that idea didn’t really work out, but in theory it was genius.

The best part of last night was that we haven’t had a night like that with a bunch of us girls together in a while. And we also haven’t scattered like that in a hot minute. There were six of us and there was a time when none of us knew where any of the others were. It was awesome. I decided to wander away from the group (okay, so that’s pretty normal) and go somewhere else with someone else, and as I was leaving I ran into Meg and Kirsten. We went to another bar and didn’t have any idea where the other three went. We only found out later that Le and Mil went home, and Sen had left to go to another bar with other people.

I woke up this morning still drunk and thanked my lucky stars that I was alive! Then I ate a piece of birthday cake and found religion, it was that good.

It was a top night.

I hope 23 is a good year!

Add this to the list of conversations you probably don’t need to have with your parents:

stole that quote from Grease

hi dad

hi dad hi hi hi

daaaaad, i loooooove youuuu

dad, my alcohol tolerance is unforgivably low. i blame you. your genes have failed me.

and then FINALLY, I got a text back.

“Hiya Kate, i love you too”

Quickly followed by:

“You’re out of practice, been out of the game. Take a breath, relax, and then sip your cocktail. But don’t give up.”

bahahahaha you’re the best dad everrrrr

“Thanks, you’re the best too.”

In other news, I was embarrassed when I was reminded by Erica that I sent the following text last night:

i peed in a tree.

Knowing me, I am sure I sent that as a mass-text. This is upsetting.

And illegal. Luckily, I’m sneaky and don’t get caught.

So, sorry this one is super short. But like… I’m just in a bad way today. Too much to drink, you know how it goes. bahaha

See ya Tuesday!

xoxoxo