Would you rather...

...get trapped inside Kat Stacks vagina...

...roll around in fake blood at the crack house with Lindsay Lohan...

...or have a baby with Kelis?

If It Ain’t Broke, Don’t Fix It

In a recent interview Heidi Montag told Extra that she wanted to make her boobs a size ‘H’ for Heidi. This was surprising to me, only because I wasn’t aware Heidi was up to the letter ‘H’ in the alphabet.

Heidi, who is only 23, is already a triple D after her second breast augmentation. And I’m guessing those breasts don’t feel nothing like sand. Nor do they feel like juicy clumps of fat as God intended.

By now I’m sure the news of Heidi’s interview with People Magazine on her 10 hour plastic surgery procedure has been well spread. If not, recent photos of Heidi should suffice. She looks like a young Donatella Versace blow up doll. Don’t stand too close folks she might be exuding her toxins.

Yikes is right.

Bitch if you need 10 hours of cosmetic surgery to fix things just give up. Find something more satiable in your life besides your looks. Even her douche of a husband Spencer Pratt tried to talk her out of it beforehand. He suggested she might need therapy and thought she was losing her mind to go through with it.

I always joke around about getting my boobs blown up, but I think if it came down to it and I had the opportunity I’d pass it up. Although if they can find a way to make my big toe smaller so the nail lady doesn’t gawk at it when I get a pedicure, that would be nice…

If you could get work done, would you? Or have you and for what reason?

Hood Summer Fest 2009

So I went to a pool party @ the Clarion yesterday. * crickets * I know, that should have been my first red flag. I was lucky they even had a pool. It was a hood fest in its entirety. Clear plastic heels, fake Louis Vuitton and the guys came in groups of ten, dressed in plain white Ts with white towels on their heads.

There was a model contest. Let me rephrase that. There was a booty shakin’ contest. About 10 to 15 girls graced the stage (um box?) in their bikinis. Each one was announced by name and their hobby. I want to say that 90 percent of the hobbies had something to do with dancing, entertaining and possibly doing the splits.

All this happened within the first hour. I needed a drink. My boy was like, “Don’t trip, I got a bottle coming.” One hour later, in room 122 was a bottle of Hennessey, Patron and some cranberry juice. * side eye * I decided my best bet was the bar.

On my way back from the bar, I noticed some girl had decided to take a dip in the hot tub. She’s in the tub. Her fake ass ponytail was lying next to the tub. One of the 25 photographers at the party runs over, snaps a picture and then literally picks up this random girl’s hair and throws it in the trash.

OMG. Yes. This actually happened...

Let me not lie, even though I felt like I was cast in Plies’ next music video, I was entertained. And on the plus side there were no kids there and no one got shot. However, I knew it was time for me to go home when I found someone’s fake tittie (cutlet) on the ground.

Shout out to Big Dave Presents, Socially Flyy , QB Chronicles and BigBootyRemy for the photo!! You know I love you guys. All press is good press :)

DIVAS

I’ve noticed VH1 has been bringing back some of their classic shows like Behind the Music and DIVAS. I was definitely excited to hear that DIVAS was coming back this year. Remember the old school DIVAS, Whitney, Aretha, Mariah, Celine, Diana, Shaka, etc? There was nothing like some top selling female artists, with the biggest hair ever, trying to out sing each other.

It would start with Mariah singing, “I’m every womaaaaan!”

Then in comes Whitney, “No girl, nah uh, I’M everrrrrry womaaaaan,” belting even louder holding that note longer than Mariah.

Then in comes Shaka, to reinforce what Whitney just did singing, “It’s all in meeeeee!”

And while she’s singing, Mariah hits that high note putting everyone to shame. Diana is just on stage putting her big ass hair in everyone’s face and Whitney is in the background doing the ‘praise the lord’ shimmy.

* sigh *

Those were the music days I remember.

I was disappointed when I heard what the line-up was going to be for DIVAS this year. Kelly Clarkson, Jennifer Hudson, Leona Lewis, Miley Cyrus, Jordin Sparks and more. Ok VH1, I’ll give you Jennifer and Kelly, but Miley Cyrus? * side eye * Miley Cyrus is not a DIVA, will never be a DIVA, probably wasn’t even around when the original DIVAS aired.

*throws hands up in the air*

It might be too soon for Whitney, Celine is preggo, but I’m wondering if Beyonce and Christina were already booked? I know our music is in the shitter right now, but if Miley Cyrus and Jordin Sparks are the new DIVAS, this could be the beginning to the end of American music.

If you want to check out DIVAS , its Sept. 17th, 9/8 central, on VH1.

Another Bald Headed Beezy

I first heard about this from the folks over at Oh Hell Nawl! Solange knew the paps would be outside to capture that fuzz puff. The least she could have done for my eyes was worn a hat or at least gotten lined up with a design. Halle, Amber, Rihanna, etc. hella women cut their hair short and made it look good. Solange looks like she didn’t even attempt to pro-style the edges.

I want to sit here and clown that mess of a haircut, but I kind of feel bad.

In my opinion when women cut all their hair off it’s because they are really going through something. Even Amy Winehouse’s beehive recently got significantly shorter. And we all saw Brittney with the umbrella and the I’m-going-to-eat-your-babies-bitch look in her eyes.

Solange posted something on her twitter earlier today about how she had too much to worry about versus her hair. And that she was just taking her son to school. She said that she didn’t get a style, because her intentions were never to make any type of trend or statement.

Honey, that haircut says a lot. That haircut says pay attention to me now damnit! That haircut says I don’t really have a career, I live in my sister’s shadow and I don’t know where my life is going. Someone. Please. Help.

Whatever she is going through emotionally, understandable, we all have our days. However, financially? Shieeeet. Her sister is Beyonce and her brother-in-law is Jay-z. Please tell me they couldn’t toss this heffa a couple dollars to go get lined up???

Would you rather...

...be a single parent of 14...

...have eight kids and your partner cheats on you...

...or find out a child you've been parenting for years was never yours in the first place???

Yes, Brett and I have a thing going on. Jealous?

* Disclaimer * This post only kind of has something to do with Brett Michaels

Well I was going to write a post on the Swine Flu, but even I’m sick (figuratively) of hearing about it.The only thing I was worried about when I first heard of the “pandemic spread” was whether or not I could still eat bacon. And as long as no one sneezes on it, I can. Problem solved, next topic.

In other ‘personal’ news, the ex randomly texted me at work today…

The ex:“Who’s Brett?”

MsP: “Michaels?”

The ex: “No, lmao, not Brett Michaels. Are you dating a Brett?”

MsP: “I’m sorry, what is to you who I date?”

The ex: “I can sense that you’re still angry. Why don’t you blog about it, it might make you feel better.”

*Side eye*

Rest assured I’m not going to directly comment on that conversation, because similar to the time not to long ago when he called me to get his Method Man CD out of my car, (circa 2009 what the fuck do you need a Method Man CD for?), he is probably reading this and getting a stiff one by me even mentioning him.

I only posted this because it's funny. Oh the irony. Soooo, yeah, let’s all have a laugh and move the fuck on.

Dr. Nosey Ass Asshole, this is me blogging about you.

* waves *

Surprisingly enough, I still feel the same as I did when I woke up this morning, but thanks for your concern. Do you feel better now that I posted about you? Does it make you feel like turning up your Method Man CD and whacking off to the idea of me and Brett Michaels on the Rock of Love tour bus?

It does? Oh goodie!!!

Bleh.

Love will choke you and throw you down some stairs if you let it...

I have a friend from high school, who has been dating her boyfriend since high school. A few years ago they packed up and he moved her from sunny California to Oregon, closer to his family. Nine years together and I wouldn’t necessarily call him abusive, but when asked when they’re getting married he says things like, “I’m never going to marry that bitch” or “Ha, yeah right.”

Not understanding why the person she had devoted so my of her life to over the years thought so negatively of her, my friend did what any female would do, she complained.

“If you don’t like it,” he said. “Then why don’t you just leave?”

Fed up, my friend said, “Ok maybe I just will.”

“If you try and leave me,” he threatened later, “I will slash all four of your tires.”

So what did my friend do? She cleaned. She washed the dishes, fed the animals, did the laundry and scrubbed the floors. The next morning she waved him good-bye and as soon as he drove off to work, she threw all of her clean clothes into her car and drove back to Cali.

When she told me the story about a month ago, I was proud of her. However, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. She would have to stay strong.

The good news is that she’s only 24, so she still has plenty of time to start her life over…

I called her this weekend to see how she was doing. I was in town so I wanted to stop by her mom’s house for a visit. Her response was, “I’m actually on my way back to Oregon, we are going to try and work things out.”

I wasn’t surprised about the news, but I wasn’t happy.

The rumor is that Rihanna and Chris Brown are back together and everyone is angry that Rihanna went back to him.

""All the abusive men are celebrating," Highroller33138 wrote in a posting on the mtv.com Web site. "It sets a terrible example for women everywhere. Rihanna really disappointed me.""

I mean, what exactly did people expect? Shit, look how long it took before Tina left Ike.

Not to be the cynic of all people who see their glass half empty, but I expected it from my friend and I expected it from Rihanna. Most victims return to their abusers for seconds and thirds.

Eve said best, “Love is blind.”

The only thing that really bugs me out of the whole Chris Brown, Rihanna case is that these types of situations happen all the time to people everywhere and now its suddenly an issue. Ugh. Kind of makes me want to punch someone in the face.

Plan B (not the pill)

Since the economy is down I thought it would be a good idea to revise my resume. So it’s a good thing that I have this blog full of so many things I’m good at to base my experience on…

Ms. Fresh Banana Puddin’

1000 Not Quite Sure Where I Am Avenue
You Are Here, CA 86411
1-800-FCUKOFF
mspuddin@gmail.com

OBJECTIVE
Looking for a job where no one cares about my punctual nature and sobriety.

EDUCATION
USSI - U Seem Smart Institute for becoming extra Smarter, You Are Here, CA
A Bull Shit degree in Learning
Minor in Stuff

EXPERIENCE
- Stripping
- Dancing on bars
- Drunk driving
- Any back alley
- Cheap date
- Plan B savvy
- Passing out Drunk (on doorsteps, front lawns, the back seat of your car, etc.)
- Knows someone who knows the personal assistant of the girl who was in that one movie, yeah her sister.

VOLUNTEER WORK
- N / A (I don’t do kittens, babies or old people)

AWARDS
- In The Hole Award (Puking on target)
- Nacho Champ Eater
- Falling face first an impressive amount of times

THINGS I’M GOOD AT
- Hopping fences
- Other people’s credit cards
- Getting free drinks
- Trespassing
- Losing panties
- Drunk texting / dialing / stopping by unannounced
- Getting by on a cup of noodles (Food Max, 24-pack for $3, btw)
- Dancing good while inebriated
- Holding my pee
- Creatively popping a squat
- Starting fights with bitches I don’t know…or my ex
- Decent at blowjobs, but infrequent
- Stuffing bra
- Giving number, email / address out to anyone who asks for it
- Setting things on fire

PERSONAL ATTRIBUTES
- Habitual Thrower
- Insecure
- Clumsy
- Desperate
- Fucking Crazy
- Easy
GOALS / ASPIRATIONS- Keeping a man- Rehab

EMPLOYMENT
42nd and Taylor 11 / 5 – current
You Are Here, CA
Corner Worker – I work hard

Burger King bathroom 4 / 08 – 11 / 1
You Are There, CA
Nothing really – sobered up and ate French fries


REFERENCES
911 – please ask for anyone who moves fast and has really good MEDs.

*A special thanks to my PA for helping me put this resume together on such short notice.

An Open Letter to White People Who Get Drunk and Think They Can Dance Good

Dear white people who get drunk and think they can dance good,



First of all, let me start by saying I feel your pain because I’m half white. My mom has the ability to bop her head, clap her hands, stomp her feet all on a different beat and still manage to be off beat. (Although in her defense she doesn’t drink and it takes a lot of coaxing to get her out on the dance floor). However, my mom’s nonexistent rhythm seems to be a trend among white people and I must put a stop to it.

I guess what I am trying to say is that white people shouldn’t dance. Ever. Just don’t do it. I’ll give you a get-on-on-the-dance-floor-for-free-card for weddings and Bar/Ba Mitzvahs, but the club is OFF LIMITS! Not only do I have to watch that shit, but it looks painful. Your clumsy drunk body being pulled in different directions all at the same time is really confusing and weird.

The slogan, “BEER: Helping white people dance since 1942,” is wrong. What it should read is, “BEER: Helping white people get drunk enough so that they feel the need to get on the dance floor and flop around uncontrollably like a fish with Tourette syndrome.”

The hopping up and down thing or jogging arms, kind of saves you white people, but not really. The thing is that you might wake up in the morning and not remember shit about being on the dance floor, but I do white people. I do. So please, for the love of the downbeat, please get drunk and mingle instead of trying to “cut a rug.”

Thanks.

MsP

I went crazy, but now I'm back.

A Picture of MsP the night she went crazy.

Are you there readers? It’s me, Ms Puddin’.

I had a Britney moment over the weekend. No I didn’t shave my head or give birth, but I did do some crazy shit. Too make a long story short I got into a fight with the ex in the club on Friday night. (Yeah I know, because I’m like so totally mature, right)?

Security literally lifted me out of my barstool and out of the club. On my way out, the ex had the nerve to take a Corona and dump it all on my clothes, my hair, my face, everything! I'm already getting kicked out, was that really necessary?

Ms Puddin’ was P-I-S-S-E-D.

However, by the time I got halfway down the block, I was over the argument and getting tossed out of the club, but the fact that he added that last little beer douche was what pushed me 51/50.

So I did the next logical thing that popped into my head. I went over to his house and I had a Kelis “I Hate You So Much Right Now!” moment. I fucked his shit up. Technically I didn’t really break or vandalize anything, I just made a mess he was going to have to clean up.

So now when I meet guys and they ask me that stupid question, “Why are you single? Is it because you’re crazy or something?” I can say, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am a crazy fucking bitch.”

Ironically I was wearing a really pretty black and glittery cross around my neck that night. So the next day I told my friend in the midst of everything that it somehow got ripped from my neck and was going to ask her if she would help me look for it.

She replied with a, “No, I think God ripped that off of your neck that night.”

I think she is right too. God was like, “Time out, I’m going to need that back, thanks.”

When I sobered up the next day I felt like shit. I hate this situation I’m in with him right now. I hate that it still even exists. I know that in the end it is going to be me who is going to have to grow some and make sure nothing like that ever happens again.

So yeah anyway, that's why I'm crazy...

---------------------------------------------------------

Oh! I almost forgot, on a side-positive-whole-other note. I went to go see Janet Jackson bitches!

It. Was. Awesome. I feel complete.

And I was sitting next to one of the flaming of the flamingest couples ever and we took turns screaming like teenie boppers, “We love you Janet!”

Best part of the whole concert. Must see!

My McDreamy

Speaking of men…

I tried to post this singles add on craigslist, but it got sent back to me. The email read something about inappropriate content. Humph. How can I put out there what I’m looking for in a man if the Internet won’t let me? Anyway, here is the ad, you be the judge…

I am looking for a man who is between 6’ and 6’2”and has a great sense of humor. He must be moderately good looking with excellent hygiene. I don’t like pretty boys. Preferably a Libra, but I will also take Gemini or an Aries.

Penis size should be not too big and not too small. If things aren't looking good in this department, compensate.

I want an educated man who is still street smart. I don’t care what business he’s in, just as long as it isn’t drug or ho related. MUST pay taxes.

Please no baby mama drama. If you do have A kid that is great, however, they must not be a whiny little brat. Preferably potty trained and if they act up I get the right to karate chop them in the side of the neck.

About me: I am a 24-yr-old bartender, who is educated, but hasn’t quite found her niche yet. I’m not desperate, just bored with it all and wanted to spice things up. If you are interested, please email me at (mspuddin [at] gmail [dot] com).

And may the best man win.

Chivalry Died, The Penis Killed It

Ok boys, I’m going to give each and every one of you a chance to defend yourself, but not before I pop you all upside the back of the head.

Honestly, I am disappointed in the men of my generation at the moment. I’m not just speaking from my own experience this time, because three, not one, not two, but three of my girls hit me up over this last week with some, “oh hell naw!” stories about the men in their lives. From infidelity to lying to saying some stupid shit like, “you’ll have to leave the bar right now you’re fucking up my game.”

????????????????

I’m sorry, the only girls I will condone that kind of behavior towards is maybe the ones who walk around with T-shirts that read, “save a virgin, do me instead,” or “cock-a-doodle-do-me.” And I blame them too, but other than that, unacceptable.

Focus boys, focus. If you can’t grasp the concept that girls in porn get paid good money to two-girls-one-cup-it, we got a problem. Please understand reality TV is far from reality and networks purposely cast those girls to walk around on camera in their booty shorts with their titties hanging out.

They get paid to get drunk and make out with half the cast and staff. In fact it's more than likely in their contracts right next to, "blow the director." Besides most of them probably also have the I.Q. of a grape. And since when is that sexy?

What is the deal yo?

Guys listen up—pull out a fucking chair, buy some freakin’ flowers and “you’re ass looks phat in those jeans” does not constitute as a compliment. Also, don’t tell a girl you want to be with her if you can’t back it up by your actions.

For the most part I’m just really disgusted. I know some of the guys that read my blog are married, faithful and all around good guys. Well can you leave some pointers to the rest of the dumbasses out there?

Right now I am opening up my comments for a session on the etiquette of how to treat a lady or at least how to weed the ladies out from the floozies. And for those of you fellas who feel the need to defend yourselves, please, be my guests, because I just don’t get it.

Picture of the Week

Man, so much for change.

I've been trying (not very hard) to steer this blog away from its usual debauchery, however, this picture was too priceless not to post and make a banner out of. I just had to put it up. I’m so deep and meaningful it hurts.

What were we doing? I have no idea. a) totally making out and getting hot and heavy outside the bar. b) cement wrestling. or c) we were just plain old sloppy drunk bitches who fell and could not get the fuck up.

Anyway, I’m trying to start something called 'drunktalk' on my blog. With that said, if anyone knows how to take video from a digital camera and make it youtube style, holla at me…

Top 5 Drunk Moments in Puddin' History

This is my 200^th post! Yeah boi! Lets get naked!

In honor of myself (really, enough about me), I thought it would be cool to take a stumble down my drunken memory lane. Pretty much to remind us all that a camera + alcohol = a bad idea.

So please, sit back, grab a cocktail and enjoy the Top 5 Drunk Moments in Puddin' History...

A recent pic of me at a rock star party strikin’ my signature pose…

I couldn’t even get up, but I sure was trying…

Ok, I’m not even sure whose car that was and I’m pretty sure my friends just propped that cigarette in my hand to make me look even cooler…

Just feeling up a guy in his wedding dress, don’t mind me…

I’m such a fuckin’ lady…

Ok that last one wasn’t me. Seriously.

MsP

Would you rather…

…adopt four kids and then give birth to twins…

…give Kevin Federline custody of your kids…

…or find out you’re an immediate relative to the Hogans???

I'm changing my name to Candy...

So here I am a 24-year-old bartender covered in tattoos. I have a degree, but my skills are limited to me being good in bed and I could probably sleep for 72 hours straight. (Oh I’m experienced baby). My hobbies include drinking and trespassing. Unfortunately I can’t put any of those qualifications on my resume, most companies are looking for a little more, um, depth.

I think I might be having a quarter life crisis.

And to top it all off, I missed the opportunity to celebrate my one year anniversary as a blogger. =( (June 17th, boo-yah!)

Looking at the glass half empty this blows. I go to school all my life and now I have to work until I die. Looking at the glass half full I went to school all my life and now I have to get a job and work until I die. Wait. Ok either way I’m screwed. I’m job-hunting right now and boy does it suck. Can’t I get drunk and lose my panties for the rest of my life? I don’t want to grow up. Growing up sucks. Boo.

It’s kind of funny I post this after telling Nick Hogan to bend over and take it like a man. I’m not going to compare myself to him, but I really need to get my life together. I was looking through the classifieds and our local strip joint is hiring. Hmmmm...

I apologize for my lack of blogging. I need some motivation, a boob job and a sugar daddy. In no particular order…

Borachas

Ok I’m back, but before I get into my trip let me just say I am shocked that some of you don’t know what a donkey show is. Although, lets just keep it that way, shall we? Also I didn't bring the digital, because I didn't want to get drunk and drop it in the pool or period. So this trip is brought to you by Kodak...

Mexico was fucking fantastic.

I’ve never been outside of the U.S. before. By my third night in Cabo I was literally living off of anti-diarrhea medicine, nacho cheese and espressos. I was afraid to shit because I wasn’t sure what was going to come out of my ass, but it was so worth it.

In fact, when my girl told her grandma we were going to Mexico, her grandma told her to go to the pharmacy and specifically tell them, “I’m going to Mexico”. We came loaded with sunscreen, Excedrin, Chasers, Tylenol, Advil, tampons, anti-diarrhea medication, Beano and of course Pedialyte.

We were not playing around.

Our flight left out of San Francisco early Saturday morning.

My girl started drinking on the flight, while I passed out. When we landed she turned to me and said, “I think I’m already hung over.” I started laughing. It was going to be an interesting vacation.

After we went through customs, immigration and all of that, our resort was a 45-minute drive from the airport. When we pulled up to the Rio Santa Fe, they handed us two Coronas and two shots of tequila. No, I’m serious, they really did...

Our trip was all-inclusive so once we checked in, they gave us wristbands, which made it possible for us to eat and drink anywhere at the resort at any time. There was a mini bar in our room that they restocked every 24-hours if necessary. There was a 24-hour sports bar, a disco, swim up bars, side bars, hard bars, back bars, tequila bars, ok you get the point.

After we got settled and dressed to go out, we headed for the sports bar. I asked Pedro (the guy behind the bar) if he had any blueberry vodka.

“Jajajaja,” he said. And then he made us these…

Some blue drank! (Laughing, because it was all bad after that, for real). It was a "adios motherfucker" without ice (sin yellow).

I don't know if we were extra friendly or just drunk, because we met a lot of people while we were there.

Here’s “wedding-dress-guy”…

He was getting married so his friends bought him a prom-like wedding dress and made him wear it. Meanwhile, his fiancé was in Vegas.

Here are our Canadian boys…

We played a mean game of volleyball and I sprained my thumb. =(

These two were on their honeymoon...

She had the nicest fake titties I’ve ever seen. My girl passed out drunk in between her boobs and she’s all, “honey, while you're down there can you suck one of my nipples?”

If it's not obvious enough, we did A LOT of drinking, which all started with that blue drank.

Round 1…mai tais...

Round 2... miami vices...

Round 637... some crazy ass shots...

Now shimmy!!!

I think I woke up everyday twitching like a fish. However, they make an awesome Bloody Mary, extra spicy. We hardly spent any time in our room, but we had a nice view.

Good times, but I'm glad I made it back.

Debauchery and Dating 101

Ok I’m fired from dating. And I’m fired from drinking. I’m fired from drinking and dating at the same time. Seriously. Technically the events that took place last night were not all my fault…

First of all, my date (the cute boy toy I met at the mall the other day) stressed that he wanted me to save my appetite until 7, but was late. Since he was running late, I decided to go over to my girl’s job (a dive bar) and have a drink while I was waiting.

No worries, I’ll preserve my appetite with liquor.

Let me tell you, plopping down at a bar while saying in a bitter tone, “I’m going to cut off my vagina and sell it on eBay,” will get you a free drink. I finished my first drink and was still waiting on my date.

I must have either looked a) miserable or b) easy, because another guy came over and told my girl my next drink was on him. She suggested a drink since I’ve been so into rum lately. I didn’t know at the time, but this bitch gave me a drink with Coconut Malibu, redbull, pineapple juice and a 151 floater. What!? Let me tell you, me and 151 go way back and we don’t get along. 151 makes me feel and act like Johnny Depp in FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS. For real, the room is spinning and I’d like to get off please.

So anyway, I finished my second drink right when my date calls me. I tell him he might as well come pick me up since he is just around the corner. We go to dinner and I have a Mai Tai. Yup. Sure did. By now I’m getting kind of loud and honest. I’m seriously leaning over to this old Indian dude at the bar, next to me, (not my date) and flirting? Yes, fucking flirting. Gheezus.

After dinner I tell my date to take me back to the bar because I’m going to just spend the rest of the night out with some friends. He’s like, “no, I’m going with you.” Um ok, hop on cowboy, because it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

When we get back to the bar, my friend calls me and says he’s at the local college hangout spot. I convince my date (who is sober, btw) to drive me over there. We get there and it’s actually crackin’. There’s a DJ and we head straight for the dance floor. I start shakin’ my ass like I’m auditioning for a music video. Except, I don’t think I would have got the part.

Let me sum up the night:

I yelled at my date at some point to, “get me a fucking drink!” (Ah such a lady). After my date and I finally parted ways, I drunk dialed my ex. I hopped my ex’s fence. (AGAIN) And passed out on his doorstep. I woke up at about 5am freezing, wondering how and where and what the fuck just happened!

Like I said, fired.

The Buddha Made Me Do It

Has anyone else ever been out drinking with a friend, who for some reason decides to steal a Buddha head from the bathroom of a bar?

No. Just me. Ok. F*cking fantastic.

Ya know, I love my friends and I’ve come along way as to whom I choose to associate with. As my mom would put it, one of my boyfriends in high school was three days out of his orange jumpsuit before taking me to prom. She’s a little dramatic, but I can’t say that she is wrong, exactly.

And I’m definitely no angel. For example, how else would I be able to tell you that espressos and vodka mixed, are not a good idea? Kind of like a Chihuahua on crack.

Anyway, I went out with my friend and her roommate Monday night. (The same friend who lives with the guy who told the “Angry Pirate” story). So, three bars into the night we end up at this upscale spot. When we walked in and sit down at the bar, the bartender looked at us and started pouring three waters. Thank God, because one more drink and I would have been butt naked on that bar while my friend made a cocktail out of my ass.

“I’ll be right back,” says my friend.

“Ok,” I slurr. “Whoo-hoo, it’s Monday night baby!”

Ten…twenty minutes go by and she still has not come back from the bathroom. Either she’s taking a sh*t or she is passed out, ass up, on the bathroom floor.

“Um, I’ll be right back,” I said to her roommate. “I’m going to go and see if she’s ok.”

On the way into the bathroom I’m thinking, this is going to be bad. I open the door and this b*tch is like a spider on the wall, hanging on for dear life to a giant Buddha head that is screwed into the wall!

“WTF are you doing!?” I yelled.

“I’m trying to get this off,” she replied.

“Where are you going to put it!?”

“In my room.”

“NO! I mean like how the f*ck are you going to get it out of here?”

“I’m just going to carry it up under my shirt,” she said.

Mind you, this b*tch has on like THE tightest tank top ever and the Buddha head was not small. It wasn’t big, but it wouldn’t make three drunk girls look any more discreet.

All of a sudden, like a bomb went off in the building, she comes flying back, clean across the whole bathroom and lands on her ass. She is still holding onto the Buddha head like someone had super glued it into her hands.

I run out of the bathroom and tell her roommate, “um, we need to go…”

We tell the bartender that our girl is throwing up in the bathroom and we need to exit out the back. Five minutes later three drunk girls come stumbling out of the bar, running, with a giant Buddha head. My friend with the Buddha eats sh*t and I’m like Forrest Gump, gone.

Yes, I could have stayed and tried to talk her out of it, but when this girl gets drunk she gets stu-born. I wasn’t about to go to jail for jacking a Buddha head.

Hell maybe, but jail, no thanks. ;p

MsP