little sarah Big World

Tag: drunk

Going Out in Valpo

-OR-

And to think, this all started in a church…

…where we went to hear classical guitar. And eat Oreos. Then we drink wine from mini bottles on top of an overpass. And then we went to a bar/club.

…where we drank more, danced to live rockabilly music, hit on the coat-check girl, got hit on by inexpert boys of all nationalities, and danced ’til the wee hours of the morn.

Then I walked home alone, got lost, and asked some sailors for direction. I was maybe still drunky when Brett woke me up this morning to catch our bus.

Don’t tell Mom.

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Don’t Mind If I Do

Popcorn and wine for dinner? Check.

Jazz it up with vegan butter and a nutritional yeast/spice mix from Nicole? Of course.

Creme de Cassis in your white wine to make it pink and sweet? Absolutely.

Portlandia clips on hulu and drunk texting? Indulge:

“Man, i was going to tell you to come over earlier, but then i was all ‘Naw, im tired,’ but now im drunk. That is a complete story.”

AND

“Im preparing myself for two months of non-stop female bondage. In the best sense possible”

Sitting on the couch with a huge grin and loving every minute of it? MUST BE A THURSDAY!

 

Shit Girls Say…and Do

~OR~

Oh What a Night

One great–and probably unanticipated–benefit of smart phones is that you can wake up after a raucous ladies’ night and quickly scroll through your browser’s history to re-live the night before, remind yourself what the topics of conversation were.

Ours included: “hot Neville Longbottom” and “expectorating”.

Also there are leftover drawings of boobs, with both innie and outtie nipples, and a picture of a house (because those two things are related?) on the reverse side of my little sister’s body parts coloring sheet. Yeah.

*       *       *

What I’m saying is that, while girls do say some silly, endearing things, we talk about so much more. More than you could ever guess. Things that would make you blush. Or giggle. Or cry. Or sometimes all of the above.

We tend to drink while this is happening. And eat. Sometimes a sit-down dinner, sometimes a potluck, and sometimes an epic snack-fest. Also sometimes all of the above, as pictured above.

Then in the morning we make breakfast together, and check our browsing history. And laugh.

Then repeat.

Happy Birthday to Me!

~OR~

The Lessons I Never Learned

Today is my birthday, and that is a happy thing. I am one year older, one year closer to remembering that I can’t have 7 drinks on a Saturday night and feel fine the next day. Right? This is a lesson I will learn, eventually?

Because hangovers are NOT a happy thing, and yet I’ve devoted the past two Sundays almost exclusively to honoring them. Oops.

Today I am 26 years old and not even stressed about it. I’ve been working on embracing confrontation, on standing up for myself and fighting for what I want. So 26 seems promising. I had ridiculously high hopes for 25 (that being my favorite number and all…), and though it was certainly a year of growth, acceptance, and transformation, it was also kind of a lonely shit fest.

My hopes for 26 are more reasonable. It is more about steady change and movement.

I think Lindsey friend said it best when she said “I always think odd years are going to be awesome, but the even years are usually better.” TRUE.

Especially if you put a lot of value into numbers, which I DO.

Today is my birthday, I am 26 years old, and I have received many lovely, thoughtful gifts, chief among them thing homemade e-card from Kevin. All photos were taken by him, in Madrid, and…

…and the panda thing is a reference to Saturday night. Night of the 7 Drinks. Apparently, in a late night international phone call that I do not remember, I drunkenly lamented that I would “never be as cute as a panda bear.”

Aaand then I fell asleep on the phone.

*       *       *

Oh, but that was back when I was still 25, Friends. Today I am 26, which means that last night I only had six drinks, and today I am only a little hung over. Totally different. Totally mature. Totally worth it:

I Am a Big Girl

So I can:

-have popcorn and dried fruit for dinner

-with a side of wine

-okay, many sides of wine

I can:

-spend a night by myself, and it will be okay

(it does not mean I’m undesirable)

-dance by myself

-and it is not pathetic

-it is just dancing

It is a release.

@ Susie's, gettin' ready

This was Halloween for me, pretty much.

Yann Tiersen is a Trickster

How to See Yann Tiersen in Concert Without Knowing It (In 10 Easy Steps!):

1- Go to an outdoor concert/festival in a foreign country.

2- But first stop at a bar/café to drink a glass of wine and wind up drinking two glasses of wine, plus some gross beer given to you by the new French friends you will make (Alex and Pauline), the friends who have just watched “Bowling for Columbine” that very morning and want to know if all Americans carry guns and keep making little pistols with their hands and going “Pam! Pow!” They are maybe a little drunk.

3- Arrive SUPER early to the concert after Chase’s host mom convinces you that in France, people arrive on time, and that you will be late and sorry if you don’t leave RIGHT NOW! Hurry, hurry! Dépêchez-vous! Allez-y!

…and then you have loads of time to kill.

4- Keep drinking wine. What else are you supposed to do? The concert doesn’t start for almost 2 hours. Eat a crêpe, then, why not?

5- Wow, those 5 glasses of wine sure are going straight through you! You should probably visit the toilettes, where friendly French people will explain about using a plastic cup to scoop sawdust out of an oil drum which you then pour on top of your “pi-pi,” because it’s “très biologique.” Fun!

6- Notice that none of the bands are being introduced nor are they introducing themselves, with the exception of Beat Drunx, and that’s only because they have to represent (“When I say ‘Beat,’ you say ‘Drunx’! Beat! [silence] Beat! [silence]”).

7- Oh, well! Because the band that’s playing right now is REALLY awesome. Oh, man, that dude is just SHREDDING it on the violin! Ooh, and now the guitar! Is that 7/8 time that I detect? It is! Cool! Ooh, and now a song in 5/4 time–awesome! Man, the crowd is really digging this guy, this group. Hey! The violin again! Dude, he is WAILING!

8- Get distracted by the crowd of people dancing outside the bathrooms. Dance a little, yourself, why not?

9- Stick around for The Inspector Cluzo, a rock/funk group that you will later realize is the French version of Tenacious D (and, oh, you will feel proud for drawing that parallel). It’s now almost 2am and you have had at least 6 glasses of wine and 2 crêpes. But, wait! What? Why are they taking down the stage after T.I.C.? And the other stage, too?! But…did we…did we MISS something?

10- Realize that step 7 WAS, in fact, Yann Tiersen.

…And that is how I spent my Friday night (and why I was so hung-over yesterday).

~The End~

“See’s Fudge” and 2 Marys

Made this for Mary’s going-away party; got the recipe from my own Granny Mary.

It was a big hit at the party, where I drank way too much because I was so happy to be making new friends and getting along and being liked, etc., etc. Then the next morning I woke up still wearing all my clothes, with the cell phone the my pocket and everything–a brutal hangover–and I had to have Kevin help me fill in some details from the night before.

Ah, well, but, this is how we learn, right? Except that I have maybe done the same thing twice this week (getting too excited about new friendships/possibilities and forgetting to count how many drinks I swallow). My new thing is no longer feeling like a social pariah. Anyways, Fudge:

“See’s Fudge (from Great Grandma Jennie Nielsen

-1Stick chopped margarine. That means, 1/4 lb. I use Butter.

-1 cup chopped nuts (I skipped this part, because Mary’s allergic and because ew, gross)

-16 oz package choc chips

-2 cups white sugar

-1/2 can condensed milk (reg. canned milk)

-10 large marshmellows (Granny uses 15, I used mini)

Bring butter, sugar, and condensed milk to a boil over medium heat in a medium saucepan medium saucepan. Boil for 5 minutes, stirring CONSTANTLY.


Remove from heat and add the chocolate chips and marshmallows, stirring until mixed together.

Pour into a buttered glass baking dish or a foil-lined metal baking dish.

Refridgerate for at least 2 hours.

When set up, cut into squares or roll into balls and dip in melted chocolate.

A Journey to the Stars

Clark Planetarium, Salt Lake City

 

Kevin, on Mars

 

Best Friends on the Moon

 

I wish I could relax. Sit back and enjoy the ride. Be the person in these photos.

Or should I not have told you the truth? That I am only human, after all.

Things I Write When I am Drunk

At some point you have to stop caring.

My jeans have crusted-on brownish-orange patches, on the upper-left thigh, but not so thick. A little translucent, and this will not be resolved so soon.

Yesterday I spilled breastmilk–not my own–onto the sleeve of my gray hoodie and had no choice but to walk around, every hour a bit more sour-smelling, until 9:30, when I arrived home.

I had walked all day in the cold, expecting the moment when I’d reach home and be able to drown myself in a hot, hot bath.

But Mom was running her own bath, and what can I do? It’s her house.

And, anyways, I have no “home.” Don’t you remember, Sarah?