what happened here

how to recover from getting the fucking carpet pulled out from under you

Step 1.
Be in Seattle in the summertime.

Step 2.
Have amazing friends.

Step 3.
Buy something way cute to wear.

Step 4.
Go on a week-long social bender that includes boozing on multiple bar patios, attending a burlesque show, hanging out on the grass in city parks under sunny blue skies, playing leap frog in the streets, singing I'm On a Boat in the streets (while dancing), playing bingo (while dancing), singing karaoke while eating cake (while dancing), getting drunk on a Sunday evening and playing Jenga at a bar (...while dancing). So pretty much, boozing and dancing and chilling with wonderful lady friends who you are in love with and would totally bone if only you were a lesbian.

Step 5.
Resolve to be done with "crazy", and move onto "stable".

Step 6.
Buy a car.

Step 7.
Throw a fucking party.

quotable(/motorboatable)

"If I had big boobs, I would shake them."

"A fart is a turd honking for the right-of-way."

"I stun them with my personality gun (pew! pew-pew!)."

"Have the balls to have the boundaries."

"Don't you mix your crazy with my crazy."

"I put the F-U in 'fun'."

champion

Two Bingo nights in a row at The Chapel, and I've walked away with:
- two free drink cards,
- a 32-oz beer stein that was once filled with margarita, and
- a trophy of a woman with my name on it, kicking a soccer/very large bingo ball.

I don't like to brag, but it would appear that I am very good at this game.

i take it back

Despite drizzles and an eerie 4th of July chilliness (which I've never before experienced), I would have to revise my previously announced perfect weekend and say that this one beat it by a long shot. There was a candle-lit, seriously delicious evening of Serious Pie with a favorite couple, and there was brunching and coffeeing, bocce ball in the sun and happy hour with friends old and new. There was karaoke in a bar made for such an activity, and subsequently, singing in the streets, creating an experience I've always wanted to witness, if not be apart of: a real-life scene that could have been taken straight out of a musical. Or filmed and put into one.

I was walking with some friends just after last call, singing with one of them songs from the Grease soundtrack. Said friend set the stage with all the necessary showtunes theatrics (jumping onto the trunk of a car, dancing through the crowded corners of Pine street in Capitol Hill, all while singing "You're the One That I Want" and "Summer Lovin'" along with me). Hoards of drunken people were gathered outside of a pizza place, hanging out in that time of night between the last drink and your (or someone else's) bed, when the excitement from the night is mellowing, and the effects of alcohol bring strangers together in a friendly, noisy atmosphere filled with potential energy. Many were humming along with the tune as we passed by singing. But the scene was complete when a chubby, grubby, long-haired, grunged-out sausage vendor sang every word along with us as we passed, pointing to us and rocking out with the gusto of a chorus member from a Broadway play.

It was, in a word, fabulous.

Then top it off with two delicious barbecues, a glorious fireworks display seen from a crowded rooftop, and the feeling of loving life, and being loved in return. Even though I had to work today, and am feeling sluggish from the emotionally taxing/satisfying weekend, I say hell yes. What a weekend.