So, Brian, my ex-husband, works for a Tree Service here in town.  He drives the chipper truck and is a secondary climber, which is effing scary because we have little girls, and I’ve already had my oldest child lose his Daddy way too soon.  But anyway….apparently, today he drove over and got stuck in a septic tank.   He calls me and says, “Well, my day started out okay, and they it got really shitty.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

Poor guy!

Dude.

Saturday night, I am going to be in the midst of about thirty kindred souls for the great spectacle that is known across the land as Avitaween.  Can I just tell you how much I NEED this break from the cesspool that has become my life lately?  I am going to be drinking, which tends to make me less socially awkward and more myself, so hopefully I will cement the bonds I have tentatively built between the friends that will be there, and not scare the shit out of the ones who haven’t met me.  I’m praying I don’t tuck my skirt into my underwear on one of the many trips I expect to make to the bathroom to make room for more alcohol.  I suppose skipping the underwear would solve that problem. *snort*

If you can’t make it this year, I’d pour one out for you, but hello!  That’s alcohol abuse!  If I’ll be meeting you for the first time, I’m pretty much exactly like I write here.  Maybe a little more reserved until I get comfortable, but what you read is what you get.  Don’t be scerred.  If I’ll be seeing you again, just know I am counting the days until I get to spend some time with you.

It’s not something I plan on, by any means.  Making a grand entrance calls too much attention to me and makes me uncomfortable.  but inevitably two or three little things hold me up. (Usually Emily and Faith and sometimes one or both of the boys.)

So, I went to the Hard Rock Cafe in Orlando on Saturday night to see Sheila, who I was very lucky to meet at BlogHer09 and fall in love with when she peed her pants.  (She didn’t *really* pee her pants.  But when she spilled her drink on her lap, it sure looked like she did, and that’s all that matters to us cackling hens, yanno!)  Her husband and son are tres adorable-I spent much of dinner chatting it up with Travis about Universal Studios.  He’s a chatterbox, which I was totally prepped for, having a daughter the same age.  (Sometimes I have to literally BEG Emily to stop talking because my ears are going to bleed if I listen to one.more.errant.thought. that she lets slip past the filter  But that’s another post, my dears!)

I got to see Adam and Britt again, which was super cool.  Adam is being prude about sharing the theme for his world-famous Halloween party, “Avitaween,” just yet, but I completely forgive him because he knows every word to Britney Spears’ ‘Womanizer’ and isn’t afraid to prove it.  And, Britt, you know, I just love her.  I have a completely heterosexual girl-crush on her because she is fun and so real-I actually get kind of tongue tied around her because I want her to like me so much.  I know, total. dork.  And on the not-so-completely-heterosexual side, I am totally crushing on Hilly now, too-I’m fairly certain we briefly met at another gathering a while ago while she was in town visiting Britt, but we didn’t actually talk and I met fifteen other O-town peeps there, so I’m not 100% sure.  This time we got to chit chat a bit, and she freaking rocks.  And she’s freaking gorgeous, too, which someone ought to tell her every single day because, hello! GORGEOUS!

After dinner, complete with a Thriller re-enactment in the middle of the adjacent dining room, Sheila’s boytoy (*giggle*) and her little man went their own way and the rest of us moved on to Rising Star in CityWalk.  I had never been to karaoke before, and I had all kinds of preconceived notions about what it would be like.  Let me tell you, if you haven’t been, GO.  It’s WAY more entertaining than you think-even if you won’t torture the crowd by getting on stage yourself.  Some people sing so well you think they sound better than half the shit you hear on the radio.  Some *might* sing well if they weren’t totally wasted.  Some can’t stop giggling enough to even choke out the lyrics scrolling in front of their faces.  And some wear way too tight, too white, too short, and too low cut dresses for their, granted, in great shape, but pasty and grandma-year old bodies up on stage to belt out “Proud Mary” while doing a shimmy that gave some of our party the heaves.  Just sayin’!  Sheila was still fighting the bug she thankfully didn’t pass on to Bri or I, lol, so she ended up leaving early.  It sucks we didn’t get more time to profess our undying love for one another, but I love her enough to want what’s best for her-even if it means she leaves me. *sniff* The rest of us left on a high note, so to speak, after a patron and the emcee gave a crowd-pleasing performance of ‘Baby Got Back’ that had half the women dancing in front of the stage-including a bachelorette who could really shake the little tush she was working with-and the other half dancing in their seats.

It was a good time-well worth the four hours total driving time.  And speaking of driving….let me take a moment to please remind you to just pay attention when driving.  We came upon an accident scene on the way home that appeared involved a bicyclist who was hit by a car.  He looked to be in very bad shape, and we said a prayer for him.  Since my oldest lost his father in an accident, I feel a stab of empathy whenever I see a bad accident.  Not that I didn’t before, of course, but now I KNOW how it feels to have to tell a child he’ll never see his Daddy again on Earth.  Also?  I ran over a small alligator outside of Clermont.  Brian told me to go back.  I told him I could drop him off and he could walk back, because I wanted to get home, thank you very much!

Oh, and a word of advice?  If you weigh over 200 lbs, maybe wearing heels to the Hard Rock isn’t such a good idea.  The walk from the freaking parking lot to the restaurant had to be almost two miles, and by the time I made it there, I already had blisters forming.  I toughed it out until we left Rising Star, but by that time the blister on my left baby toe was so bad I couldn’t put my foot in my shoes at all without wanting to find a cigar cutter and remove it.  So I carried my shoes and walked barefoot back to the car.  I had some hand sanitizer in the car which became foot sanitizer, and when I got home, I washed and Lysol’d my feet.  Because-Circle K feet is not a good look. Especially when paired with blisters on four toes.  Guess I’ll be giving myself ghetto-fabulous home pedis until they heal, because OMG, the worst one still feels like an icepick in the toe!

So, today is the Huz’s and my close girlfriend Jess’s birthdays.  Brian turns 34, and Jess, the tender young morsel that she is, turned 21.   Both of them have to work early Monday morning, so it was decided that we would celebrate Saturday night, since after midnight, Jess could drink.

Now, I have some social anxiety.  I have made some strides, but I feel much more comfortable with my online friends in person than I do with friends of friends or people I don’t know.  As usual, I got really cranky and flustered just before we left.  My poor family dealt with my scowl and snappy mouth pretty well, but I bet they were glad to see me go, get out, and unwind a little.  I doubt they understand that the prospect of going out is what winds me up in the first place, hah.

Jess and her friend Jen showed up, and we headed down to Land O’ Lakes, where we met up with two other friends, a couple named Erin and Jeff, and we all ate at Chili’s; my treat for the birthday kids.  We had to wait for Jen’s boyfriend to get off work, so we headed for Jeff’s apartment.  We stopped at 7-11 for gas and beer-not necessarily in that order *snort*-and my night got lively when I looked in the store from the pump and noted what looked like a seven foot tall cashier, with the top 18 inches being hair-standing straight on end.  I tried to get a pic, but short of racing up to the window and going all camera-phone nazi on the unsuspecting sasquatch, this was the best I could do.  I kid, but really, I’m amazed by the gravity-defying hair products he must use!

Once we got to Jeff’s apartment, Jess was served up her first birthday drinks.  There was homemade sangria, some beer, and a few shots to be had…none by me since I was one of the designated drivers of the evening, of course.  Jess doesn’t drink much, and she was being silly before too long.  She pulled a $10 bill out of Jen’s purse when Jen went to the gate to let her boyfriend in and put it in her bra, and put on her sunglasses.

I asked, “Are you playing dress up?”

She giggled and said, “I have to put on my serious face!”

I said, “Are you looking for it in Jen’s purse?”

*snort*

She kept standing on one leg and saying, “If I can stand on one leg, I’m okay!”  Bri had a beer, and everyone hung out while Shawn ate his take out from Chili’s.  We were waiting for midnight to head to Channelside in downtown Tampa, so Jess could order drinks and get into an over 21 bar.

The party really seemed to kick off on the ride down to Tampa from Wesley Chapel, though.  Well, for some of us anyway.  Jess was w.a.s.t.e.d.  She was trying to get me to make out with her, which I would not do, not because she isn’t hot, because she totally is, but because she was drunk and I’m not that kind of girl.  Really! No matter what Twitter says!  So, she bit my cheek!

Crazy ass drunk girls!  We found ourselves in Howl at the Moon at Channelside with a giant bucket of some kind of drink mix that had thirty thousand straws in it, watching dueling pianos play classics on up to Madonna songs.

Silliness and laughter abounded..one of my favorite moments was when Jen was on the dirty ass floor, and I was all concerned…

“Why are you on the floor, Jen!?”

“I lost my headband!”

“Honey, it’s not worth sitting on this filthy floor!”

“Yes, it is! It has TWO BOWS!!!!” she wailed, just before declaring victory when her groping hands fell upon it.

Erin wasn’t so lucky-we all had our phones on with the light reflecting on the ground looking for a costume jewelry ring she lost.

Jen popped up, shouting, “I found it!”

Erin excitedly said, “You did?”

And Jen said, “Yes, but it’s broken!”

Brian was the only one to get hit on-he went outside for a cigarette and a guy asked if he could buy him a drink. *snort*

As the night wound down, we urged the birthday kids to finish the bucket, but Jess was just about done for the night.

Jeff passed a note and a tip to the piano guys through the waitress though, so we got one more treat-Jess got called up to the stage and serenaded, and Brian even got the birthday song, too!

When we left, Jess puked outside.  Which is pretty standard for a 21st birthday, I suppose.  I drove home with two of my favorite people passed out in the car after enjoying their birthday celebrations with their friends, and all was well in the world.

Except for the fact that I have the most freaking annoying laugh EVAH!

If you are a blogger and you aren’t a part of One2One Network, you seriously need to sign up, like NOW.  The coolest opportunities come up, and for an example, I am going to see Yanni Voices in concert, in Tampa, and I get to tell you all about it!  Which is killer, but the best part?

I get to give away a set of tickets, too!

The show is this Saturday at 7:30pm in Tampa, so if you are a local, leave me a message and I’ll announce the winner Thursday which means there are only two days to enter-chances of winning are HIGH, so drop your name in the bucket and let’s go enjoy Yanni’s amazing compositions enhanced with the gorgeous vocals of four fresh young talented upcoming stars!

It’s been a rough season for la familia.  Comic relief is always my drug of choice, so imagine my delight at finding Name Your Wang!  According to the Weird Facts on the site, 60% of men name their penises, so why not register his pet name for his thrill hammer?

The only caveat?

-The Rules-

1.  No cuss words
2.  Nothing vulgar
3.  No other rules

I don’t know about you, but all my pet names for the Huz’s penis involve vulgarity and cuss words.  I’m a dirty girl, what can I say?