Rollin Dirty

By day, I am mild-mannered (mostly) Ashley. But what you might not know is that I have an alter ego…Smashley, the heroically amusing drunk. People get jealous of other people who have had the honor of meeting Smashley. The legends of her escapades are told to captive audiences, longing for a glimpse of this creature.

Well…this weekend Smashley came out.

I went to Pismo with Boyfriend and the Rollin Dirty crew. It was a wind-blown, sleep-deprived mixture of motors, alcohol and offensive language. On Friday night, I rolled off the back of Boyfriend’s quad and nearly broke my neck. On Saturday, I sat on the beach for most of the day while the boys tried to break their necks. But on Saturday evening, I got a little brave…or stupid. I asked Boyfriend to show me how to jump. I just wanted a little one. Just a little tiny one. He chose some ridiculously steep dune and I lost momentum halfway up the thing. He told me to hit it faster. Apparently I did. When I came off the top of that hill I had the sensation of floating through the air. When I landed I looked back at Boyfriend, staring in disbelief. He showed me my tracks…I had jumped 25 mother-effing feet. I, being me, burst into tears and started shaking and we promptly rode back to camp where Boyfriend bragged to his friends and I poured myself a drink.

This was the first inkling that Smashley was lurking about. After finishing an entire bottle of margaritas it became obvious that she was present and accounted for. She danced like the little monkey for the crowd and passed out sometime shortly before dawn.

Morning came, and I got to deal with the repercussions of that crazy bitch. So, if you go to Pismo and you see a bunch of evenly spaced sand mounds near the end of the beach…beware…Smashley makes me sick…a lot.

The Company Holiday Party

Up until this year I have avoided the company holiday party. I have done the little intimate celebratory lunches with my coworkers, but the big shindig with semi-formal attire…not so much. It isn’t that I am a grinch…we just all know how I feel about these events.

This year…I had no good excuse to get out of it and I somehow got talked into attending. Boyfriend and I got dressed up in our finest finest and I was pleasantly surprised. It wasn’t that bad…we even got a fun little prom picture to prove it. The food rocked my world and I could just talk to Boyfriend and stuff my face when there was nobody to talk to.

There were a few awkward half hugs and long pauses…but all in all…not too bad. And once I was adequately liquored up, I knew it would be even better. So I quickly bee-lined to the open bar and ordered my gin gimlet.

Now I understand that the youth of our world can only make mojitos and margaritas…but a gin gimlet is not so hard…two ingredients…you don’t have to go to bartender school to figure that one out. Anyway…so, after ordering, I watched as the kid (I swear he was like 15) searched frantically for something. He asked his fellow bartender and they both looked puzzled. Finally, he came back to me and said, “we don’t have any onions.” “That is fine,” I said…since there should be no onion anywhere close to my gin gimlet.

He filled a tall glass with ice and poured the gin in…so far so good…that is the biggest gin gimlet I have ever seen…but I’m not complaining. He then picked up the vermouth and poured a few drops into my drink. Ummm…I have never seen a gimlet made with vermouth…but maybe that was his special recipe…I am open to new things. The he grabbed the gin again and filled the rest of the glass with gin. He shook it up and grabbed a martini glass. “Can I have it on the rocks,” I said as he looked at me like I just killed his puppy.

He poured it in a shorter glass and handed it to me. Ummm…thanks…for my glass of gin.

Later on…he saw me and ran over. “I found the onions,” he said. I just swayed a little and hiccuped at him…since I had just finished my second glass of gin.

For all you aspiring bartenders out there…here is a PROPER recipe for a gin gimlet:

1. Fill glass with ice
2. Add 1.5 ounces of gin
3. Add .5 ounces of Rose’s lime juice
4. Garnish with a slice of lime

Roar

Last night was a lesson in wildlife. Los Gatos…translates to “the cats” but it should be called the “the cougars.” The ladies were out in force last night. As we (Boyfriend and his two friends) entered the club ready for a wild night of drinking and dancing…it became obvious that we were being watched…and by “we” I mean Boyfriend and his friends. The 40-somethings were on the prowl with their sequined crop tops and collagen swollen lips.

The Timberlake was bumping and these ladies knew every word. I was basically fighting these ladies off Boyfriend with a large stick. I thought I was gonna have beat some old bitches down. Luckily Boyfriend’s friends were all too single and willing so the attention was easily diverted. One particular little piece of work (not so much a cougar…more of a haguar) who had a little ti miny martoonis pulled one of these unsuspecting boys out on the dance floor and was “dipping it low” in possibly the most disturbing manner.

She proceeded to chew him up and spit him out. But I got pictures…blackmail is sweet.

P.S. NaBloPoMo is over…woo. I am guessing that my blogroll over the next few weeks is gonna be a little sparse…but never fear. I will be here blogging away.

Ah-hem

I have lost my voice. It is gone, missing, nowhere to be found. I try to say "hello" and "squeak" comes out. Apparently singing “hold on loosely” and “highway to hell,” at the top of you lungs will do that to a person.

But even if I could talk, which I can’t, I wouldn’t be able to hear myself over the ringing in my ears.

I went to a work event tonight and the performer was a bunch of has-beens from Journey, Chicago and other similar bands who are called “Big People.” Have you ever heard of a lamer (yes I know it isn’t a word but it is perfect for describing this band) band name? I didn’t think so. And yet, regardless of lameness, they rocked the house.

Halloween…Take Two

I know that Halloween was here and has gone this year, but when Halloween falls on a stupid day like a Wednesday, the masked debauchery is likely to span both weekends before and after.

So I have Halloween party tonight and I am a little anxious about it…not for the normal reasons either. About a month ago (with lots of beer in us) boyfriend and I had the most brilliant costume idea. Discussing our plan we got giddy with excitement. This was truly the most original and funny costume ever.

Over the past month I have tried to keep the costume secret (for extra effect) but have needed to tell a few people, just to share our brilliance. These are some selected responses:

“That is kinda messed up”
“Are you sure want to do that?”
“You are going to HELL!”

So…um…yeah…the costume is a little blasphemous…a little persecutive…and apparently not that funny to my closest friends…oops. I can’t even bring myself to reveal what it is here for fear of death threats.

I just hope we don’t get beat down be an angry mob of zealots.

Networking Tips for the Socially Stunted

Networking can be tricky business. Here are my simple steps to mediocre success in a social situation. Watch and learn:

1. Stand with your back to a wall…that way you can see everyone who might come up and try to talk with you.
2. Make sure to wear lots of jewelry so you have something to play with to look busy.
3. When you can’t think of anything to say, just giggle and mumble a little…people will think you are talking but will be too polite to ask you to speak up when they think they can’t hear you over the party noise.
4. Eye contact is dangerous…don’t do it…or else people will talk to you.
5. Eat…a lot…it isn’t polite to talk with your mouth full.
6. Find the one person you know and glom on…don’t let go.
7. When all else fails…break into a almost jog and go in and out of doors like you are doing something super important.

With these easy techniques you can be just as much of a party goober as I am.

Kinda Like Hot Dog on a Stick

I feel like puke on a stick. Good visual...just think about it and try not to throw up a little in your mouth.

Anyhow, I am not sure what is wrong with me. It could be the fact that I sat in the sun for two days straight with no hat or sunscreen. It could be that I slept in the freezing cold outside. It could be that I ate way more than my fair share of mountain man food (MEAT!). It could be that I drank enough Coors in a can to drown a mini horse. It could be one of those things…but chances are that it is all of them coming together to create a perfect storm of yuck in my system.

Ain’t No Party Like a Wednesday Night Party

Here is my poem
Even though I do loath ‘em
About my Wednesday night of bowlin’

I drank way too much
And fell down and such
And did some good old ball rollin’

With three Miller Lights
And no end in sight
We headed to the alley a strollin’

The game it was fun
Three pitchers became one
And the beer it began to be tollin’

The game, it was finished
Our sobriety diminished
And the next morning it was upon us

We headed for home
We wished Drew “Shalom”
And headed upstairs with much slowness

Thursday it came
We greeted it with disdain
And were relieved to be mostly hangoverless

But alas we were wrong
The headache was strong
And now I need a cold compress


Goodness gracious…I have skills! Hangover poetry rocks the house!