Filed under: alcohol | Tags: alcohol, alexis, anastasia, beer, brooklyn, dress, friendship, martini, new york city, tequila, wine, women
Oh how people change. I moved away from Anastasia for a year and she did a 180 on me. Not that it is a bad thing; it’s just entertaining to reminisce about the old days.
I remember the day that she told me that gin martinis were vile and she had no idea how I could drink two of them. Text from last weekend: “I had two martinis and I could drive a car NASCAR style right now.” My, how people change. And only in a year.
I met this girl (Anastasia) who believed that beer was life’s nectar and a pair of clean jeans was acceptable for all occasions, Brooklyn was Timbuktu and going to Manhattan on a Sunday was like giving birth. Soooo painful. Video games were the only acceptable Saturday activity, exploring the wonderfulness of NYC on a weekend was out of the question.
Asking Anastasia to come into the city on a weekend was like asking for her first born. And trust me, she won’t even let me be in her wedding party, so I guarantee she won’t let me meet her first born. Even worse than asking her to come into Manhattan on a weekend was asking her to come visit me in Brooklyn. Queens to Brooklyn was like Germany to Bangladesh. Who would travel that far to visit someplace that wasn’t as cool as Germany and why? Brooklyn to Anastasia was like another world. Brooklyn didn’t exist. Queens was better than Brooklyn, hands down.
One time I went “all the way” from Brooklyn, middle of nowhere to Anastasia, to the Upper East Side-five minutes from her apartment. I asked her to meet me for happy hour. Her response? “Yeah there is no way in hell you are getting me to go to Manhattan on a Saturday.” Wow.
When we did go out, Friday’s only, Anastasia’s drink of choice? Beer. Beer. Beer. Try suggesting a tequila shot and you might get punched. I, of course, was going through my “dark” period, where tequila and gin martinis were necessary for survival, so we had a hard time seeing eye to eye on drinks.
I am not complaining, I loved down to earth Anastasia: the girl who didn’t know what a dress was (even in the brutal heat of a New York summer), thought that a skirt was the Universe’s punishment for women, museums were a waste of a Saturday and drinking wine and hard liquor was for pansies who couldn’t handle beer. I sure do enjoy drinking beer, sitting on the couch in jeans and a hoodie, but I also enjoy a fancy night out sipping wine. So imagine my surprise when I recently started hearing stories about gin martinis, tequila, dresses and Brooklyn. WHAT? Who is this woman?
Anastasia now: wine and gin has replaced beer, an occasional tequila shot isn’t out of the question and Brooklyn not only exists but is even inhabitable occasionally!
A status update about a month ago mentioned Anastasia buying a dress and I almost fell out of my chair. A dress?! One of those things that show legs and boobs? Anastasia? She has legs? Just plain crazy. Anastasia has sported five dresses this year, I’m in shock. Wonderment, if you will. I cannot wait to go sip martinis at a fancy bar with my “new” friend!
Anastasia has ventured to Brooklyn a few times, goes to museums, hangs out in the city no matter what day it is, doesn’t say: “Alexis, you know what day it is,” when I call her on a Saturday. To be blunt: she’s a martini whore now. Love it! I’m sure I have done just as much changing as Anastasia, seeing how we met each other during “dark” phases in our lives, but now that the sky has cleared, we are getting to know new sides of one another. She met me when I was face down in tequila 24/7 and I met her when Brooklyn, to her, was an abomination.
Times, they be a-changin’.
-Alexis Patron
Filed under: douche baggery | Tags: alexis, boyfriends, dating, girlfriend, relationships, sex, sex-ting, tequila, women
I never wanted to become the “other woman.”
It all began very innocently.
Two drunk friends upping the stakes of a regular game of fooseball. If he won, I’d kiss him, if I won… well I don’t think I got anything out of it. Doesn’t matter anyways, I lost and had to kiss him. Innocent turned into PG 13 when one kiss turned into full make-out outside in the freezing Wisconsin winter air.
Ah, but how innocent kissing turned into fucking. At his parent’s house by the way. While his mom was home. It was magical. Especially since she came and watched TV with us later…
The post-sex awkwardness did not exist. I don’t live there, so we remained friends and parted ways. It was one of those post-sex-high-five then peace out situations, very unattached and unemotional. That is my favorite situation. Of course, now every time I go back to visit I have a fuck buddy.
The second time I had a vacation romp with my old friend was during a family wedding that I swung by his work and had a little fun. His work? A funeral home. Enough said.
We didn’t really keep in touch in between our wild sexual encounters, until one day when he out of the blue emailed me. Thus beginning our email/texting long distance sex game.
We were both young, single and bored. Why not send naked pictures and talk dirty?
I had never done the cyber sex thing so I was nervous. The first picture I sent was of my butt. Very PG 13. I kept it this way out of fear that he’d show our mutual friends or he’d send them to my father. All of which would be a bad situation. We continued on the PG 13 track for months, just emailing pictures, nothing too exciting. Plus he would always mention how much “fun” we had during my visits. To be honest, the sex wasn’t great, but I enjoy the concept of having vacation sex.
After a few months of our email affair, the emails ended. I heard through the grapevine he got a girlfriend. I was bored of the cyber sex anyways, so it was good for me. Plus my fear of them ending up on facebook kept me from wanting more.
One night however, after I had stumbled home from the bar at 5am NYC time, I got a text.
“How are you? I miss our fun.”
Huh, maybe he broke up with the chica.
In fact, no he hadn’t. He still wanted to do pictures. Turns out, after two months of dating the girl, he wanted more of my action. Something I wouldn’t have wanted to offer if I was sober. Three shots of tequila and two gin martinis said different. Alcohol = horny. And I was alone.
The filter I had the previous months flew out the window as did my morals. PG 13 turned to R. He could ask me to take a picture of anything and I did it. Of course he reciprocated. Once I sobered up, I freaked out about the girlfriend thing. He said he deleted the pictures and she’d never know. What a classy fella.
In my drunken/depression months of early 2008, this continued often. Sex-ting had become the only relationship that I had. I never wanted to be the other woman and I never actually slept with him again, but I still felt like we were cheating.
Now, more than a year later it hasn’t stopped. And he is now engaged. I’ve gotten him to stop for months by saying I didn’t want to do it anymore, but he is addicted I think. He will ask me if I want a picture, I will say no and he will send one anyways. I have so many penis pictures on my phone, it’s disturbing. I delete them when I remember. He doesn’t even send them at appropriate times, like 3am on a Saturday. Now they come when I’m having dinner with my parents, or eating breakfast on a Tuesday. It’s very strange. He has put me in the category of the “other” woman and I don’t know how to get out of it. And he’s ENGAGED!
He talks about wanting to fuck me when I come visit, I just don’t know how someone can be engaged, yet completely dishonest.
I don’t reciprocate anymore with the pictures or sex conversations, but when I get drunk… well lets just hope I don’t get that drunk again.
I really don’t find looking at penis pictures to be any sort of a turn on, so I am unsure as to why he keeps sending them!
- Alexis Patron
Automatically when you wake up next to someone naked after a night a drinking, your mind races. You think, “what the fuck, what the fuck did I do last night?!” Well, luckily that wasn’t the case when I woke up to a naked Brandy on that Sunday. Don’t get me wrong, I was shocked she was naked, but I had nothing to do with that. She was passed out when I got home and I didn’t realize she was naked until the next morning. Brandy, gotta love her, she’s a good friend and another fellow bridesmaid, and yes I have motorboated her boobs, but I just wasn’t planning on sleeping with her naked.
My head hurt. I don’t think I had been that hung over in forever. And awesome, my mind – complete blank. Could not remember anything from the last two hours of my night. Fantastic. I know when I don’t remember a thing it means I must have done something super stupid.
It was time for the breakfast recap… I wanted to die a little bit.
At the traditional breakfast recap, it was Kaci, Brandy, Katie, two other girlfriends, Kaci’s mom, Kaci’s boyfriend and Kaci’s brother. Kaci’s mom peaced out early because she started throwing up. Which is typical after a traditional Montana wedding.
I was sitting next to Kaci’s brother, Ryan, who I hooked up with in college. Kaci freaked out at the time. Yeah, that didn’t go so well. So I knew better than to try and do that again… well, soberly knew better.
The stories began… which all of them seemed to revolve around me. Every time they told me about another person I mouth fucked at the reception, it was like a bullet to the head. You know, when you realize you did something super stupid? Yep. As I sat next to Ryan a sneaking suspicion came upon me… I think we made out. So of course one of the girls blurts that one out, “Hey Ryan, didn’t you make out with Alexis too?” “Nope!” He answered enthusiastically. I breathed a sigh of relief, Kaci would have killed me. But I still had a sneaking suspicion that we may have…
When Kaci wasn’t around, the other girls informed me that yes, in fact, I did mouth fuck her brother again. Awesome, just awesome. He’s hot though, so I’m not complaining!
So what did happen Saturday night? I’ll tell you this for sure… I am not allowed back in that town again! Well at least not until people forget about the shit show that I starred in on Saturday night.
Saturday
At 9am all of the bridesmaids met at the salon to get ready for four hours. We all complained, because who needs to get ready for four hours?! Turns out we needed that time. Jill allowed us two glasses of champagne each before the wedding. She didn’t want the priest to kick us out. Which was a definite possibility given the veracity of this group.
I do have to take a moment to share what happened with my hairstyle. I had one of the small town hairstylists do my hair, never doing that again. I should have just curled it myself. I asked for medium curls… 45 minutes later she is done, I look in the mirror. Holy fuck I looked like a French poodle on steroids. My hair stuck out past my shoulders in these tiny ringlets that went out of style in 1850. She loaded it with hairspray so there was no getting out of it… Wow, my friends were laughing so hard they had to excuse themselves to the bathroom so as to not offend the hairdresser. Good, I didn’t want to get laid anyways.
Luckily my hair is so thick, it calmed down before the wedding, but still was a disaster.
The wedding was beautiful and went off without a hitch. It really was a beautiful experience. But now for the fun part.
Once the wedding was over… it was time for debauchery!
We showed up at the reception hall after about an hour of pictures. It was time to drink. All of us bridesmaids had these bright yellow dresses that I referred to as my “Golden Ticket.” Meaning – I was going to get what I wanted, when I wanted. With both men and booze. I loved my “Golden Ticket.”
Shoving my way to the bar with my golden ticket, I commenced the inhalation process of alcohol. Drink of choice? Lime vodka and redbull. Nasty. Everyone else was doing it, so I jumped on board. Of course the treasured favorite of tequila came later.
Let’s piece the night together. Here is what I remember: most of the reception, making out with at least two guys, falling on the floor during an exquisite dance move, tequila, more kissing, more tequila, and finally pictures. Ohhhh the pictures. There is a beautiful picture of “snapper delight” in the bathroom. “Snapper delight” was my weekend nickname since I had a freshly waxed vag… I have no idea who had my camera and why they would take a picture over the bathroom stall. I actually don’t remember the actual dance move, but I slide across the floor and I believe I knocked over a child, who immediately started crying. I think I hear his mother say, “Oh honey, it’s just drunk Alexis being herself, she didn’t mean to karate chop you in the face with her heels.”
Here is what I don’t remember: Leaving the reception, going to the bar, the third and fourth guy I made out with getting home. Oh wait, I remember drinking a martini at the bar! Yes, I remember something from the bar!
Pictures put me at the bar after the reception, so I know I went. But the next thing I remember is running away from a guy’s car, freezing and trying to figure out how to get to my friend’s house. Why was I running? I think he was finger banging me and I finally came out of my drunk blackout, realized who I was with, and got the fuck out of there. Fast.
The guys:
1) Aaron – yes I do remember making out with him. Picture to prove it.
2) Oh shit I forgot his name… I swear I knew it before. Ok well he is like three years younger and I made out with his brother also.
3) Josh – brother of “no name” listed above. Also, the same guy who I remember running away from his car. What is my thing with brothers? This is the fourth set of brothers. My god. Plus I have made out with two of my best friend’s brothers. Jesus. That is a weird phenomenon. Gotta love similar DNA.
4) Kaci’s brother – which to this day we will both deny… and I cannot 100% guarantee it, but the girls say I did. And I have a lot of pictures with him, so I’m assuming I did.
The recap breakfast was very informative. I spent most of the time shaking my head. And saying “yep, yep, I did do that.” But that wasn’t the worst part. It was going to Jill’s mom’s house for presents and seeing all the adults from the wedding. I was greeted with laughter and “oh shit, you were tanked last night.” Lets just say, I made an impression.
-Alexis Patron
Most of my debauchery begins after this glorious Liquor infiltrates my blood stream. Tequila makes my decision go from normal to depravity in under three shots.
My love affair with tequila began shortly after moving to NYC and taking a bar tending job. One of the Greek owners introduced me to Tres Generaciones Anejo. After the first sip of the 100% blue agave tequila, I was in love. This affair started off slowly, only two or three shots a shift.
As things got a little more outrageous, the bar manager started acting neurotic and one of the owners eye fucked me daily, my shot consumption skyrocketed to about 8 or 9 a shift. It was more of a defense mechanism in the beginning, something to help me forget the nastiness that took place at my bar, but then tequila just became a part of work. I went months without ever taking a day off from drinking. Not my proudest days, but I did do some hilarious things during my binge.
The “show” (meaning: acts that I would perform whilst drunk off tequila) began fairly innocent, PG 13 if you will. I had this beer trick that I would perform for the patrons. My giant knockers were the perfect bottled beer holder, so I would place my favorite cold brew in my cleavage and bend backwards and drink the beer. I got better and better over time, I didn’t have to stand up to swallow as often, so it was a success. I was a hit!
Things progressed rapidly. My boobs became a prop. They helped me earn a living and with tequila as my best friend, it made my inhibitions just low enough to allow for some pretty entertaining times. The boobs were not only good for holding beer but for holding shots, of course for someone else to drink not me. I tried to bend backwards and drink a shot once, and let’s just say it is not that much fun snorting tequila.
Oh but I did do that once. My customer taught me to roll up a cocktail napkin, dip it in the tequila and then snort it, apparently it has a better effect than just shooting the tequila. I do not suggest this, however.
But it wasn’t enough to just show off the tops of the tatas, they were itching to do more than just tricks.
With a bar full of men, I found it appropriate to show a little more of what mamma gave me. I decided to share nipple. Not both, just one.
Of course I had to go into the freezer to perk her up a tid bit before releasing her. Then I went back out to the bar, stuck my hand into my shirt, whipped out the left side, stuck her back in and then drowned my last hint of morals and dignity in another shot of Three G’s.
Luckily tequila never made me strip in public… only in private. But it sure did make me do many things that, well now I just shake my head and say, “what was I thinking.”
Time to put down that bottle of Patron.
After mastering the hilariously overplayed dick-in-a-box routine, it appears Justin Timberlake is now taking on the
lucrative business of becoming a master distiller.
As if we really need another reason to take our pants off for Justin.
Nope, he doesn't need the tequila to get us naked.
On a different note, we had a lousy week. Would you believe that some people out there just don’t get a kick out of debauchery and don’t find our blog particularly amusing?
We know. We were shocked, too. Srsly.
But we have been getting a tiny bit of attention on Facebook lately, so if you want to help cheer us up, feel free to post the blog on your facebook account. We don’t want your drunken, slutty friends to miss out on the fun either, do we?
Happy Friday. Drink one or seven for us this weekend.
-Anastasia and Alexis
Filed under: alcohol, birds and bees | Tags: alcohol, alexis, eric dane, men, patrick dempsey, rangers, sex, tequila, women
When I start drinking tequila, not only do I do the dance to “Hot in Here,” but it makes most men go from zero to Patrick Dempsey in under three shots.
Mmmm
Enter Baldy McMan Boobs (BMMB.)
In a confused, homesick, alcoholic, overweight, unhappy, challenging stage in my life, I met a man. Oddly enough this won’t be the last time I find a totally under-qualified man to aid me through my discontent with a new move… my second post-move/disaster strikes/alcoholic stage, man-child who aided me through unhappiness I will write about soon and he was much, much worse than BMMB.
Shortly after moving to NYC I found a job in a bar. Not just any bar, but a bar that was so dangerously teetering on the edges of hell, I thought for sure they were going to push me in. The nasty bitch of a bar manager was Satan’s cheap whore herself. She was horrifying. After starting work at this bar, the tequila connoisseur in me started to blossom. Tres Generaciones Anejo, that’s my stuff. Like a bee to a flower, that shit was my nectar. My alcohol problem didn’t take off until about January though and this was only October, so I was just a blossoming alcoholic when I met BMMB.
Working right next to Madison Square Garden, we would get in a lot of Ranger fans. One particular night, my first night not actually training, a young man comes and sits at the bar before the game. He was funny and charming, not entirely cute, but his charm won him some points. I wasn’t drinking yet, so he was average looking, sort of chubby, whatever I didn’t pay much attention, he lived in Connecticut, enough said. Once the tequila began slowing to work it’s way into my blood stream, Connecticut turned into Paris, BMMB’s double chin turned into Eric Dane’s strong jaw, a car salesman turned into a corporate lawyer… it all sounded good. Which must have been what prompted me to say yes to joining him for a hockey game in another state.
even better
I really wish he had turned out to be Eric Dane.
Apparently it didn’t matter that I didn’t like hockey, nor did it matter that BMMB could be a crazy person that would leave me in an alley somewhere in Connecticut, I was game.
I should have known it was going to be a bad idea when I didn’t tell any of my friends that I was going to Connecticut for a weekend. BMMB and I talked/texted every day since I met him, so I was starting to get interested and I was totally excited to go to CT. The first weekend that I went was kind of fun. Granted I was remembering a hot, intelligent, lawyer, and when I got to CT and saw the receding hairline, man boobs, car salesman, I was a little disappointed. Good thing I had prepped ahead of time and got shitfaced on the train on my way there.
I called Anastasia while in CT and she judged me horrendously, but the weekend turned out pretty well. The next time I saw BMMB was in Long Island for another hockey game. This continued for a few weeks.
Side note: I had just met Anastasia, so the fact that she continued our friendship after the BMMB fiasco amazes me. Typically you show someone all your good cards upfront, you put your best foot forward, but with Anastasia… I laid it all out there. Within the first month she met the alcoholic side, the poor judgment in men side, the bitchy side, the total neglect of advice from friends side… basically she met the drunk bitch whore Alexis.
Anyways, during our budding friendship we both had full-time jobs so didn’t get to hang out much except on weekends, but I was spending mine in CT. Being the crazy, persuasive, pushy and kinda mean gal that she is, she proposed multiple arguments as to why I shouldn’t go to CT one weekend. She even put our friendship on the line, saying we wouldn’t be friends if I went. I’m stubborn and when I set my mind to something, I do it… so I went.
She was right, I shouldn’t have.
The second time I went to CT, the sober side of me started to see BMMB’s true colors. His unjustified cocky-ass qualities started to show as well as the balding, man boobs. This time I wasn’t so drunk so I remember most of my trip. The sex was actually pretty good. He made some strange noises though, not grunting but like a mmmunting noise instead. It was a mmhmm plus grunting. Strange. And I had to watch his boobs swirl around as a woman’s does. I imagine that when a woman’s boobs do that, it is sexy. But when a man’s boobs swirl about as if two raw chicken breasts were sumo wrestling, then seeing his face scrunch up like a baby pug… well lets just say I definitely wasn’t even close to having an orgasm then.
When that was over the only thing that could make it worse was waking up next to him. It was one of those wake ups where you forgot where you were and you do a silent “AHH” in your mind when you roll over and see who you are lying next to. Ugh being sober sucks. Drool down his chipmunk cheeks and snoring like a moose, it was sad on my part. Too damn bad I couldn’t leave until he took me to the train.
I was starting to get disinterested in BMMB shortly after that visit, so it was time to bring in Anastasia. BMMB came to my bar for a hockey game and I invited the girls. Anastasia was so unbelievably unimpressed that she couldn’t contain herself while talking to him. After telling him he was lazy and unimpressive with utter disgust on her face, she told me I was retarded and that was that. BMMB got mad at me that my friends were “bitches,” I got mad at him for something… who knows, I was wasted. So I made out with a random customer at the bar and that ended that.
-Alexis Patron
Filed under: douche baggery | Tags: anastasia, Christian Bale, tequila, terminator
Apparently the set of Terminator 4 turned into my college dorm room circa 2006 when Christian Bale decided to pay homage to my tequila-induced, “you’re a fucking cocksucker” tirade delivered to my ex boyfriend.
Cheers, Christian. It was a valiant effort, but you just don’t do it with my class.
-Anastasia Beam
