Posts tagged ‘shindia’
Fire Island kicked my ass. It was an impromptu trip. I literally just rolled out of bed onto the floor on Saturday and remembered I had promised to meet Shindia there for a lawyer’s barbeque that afternoon. So I shoved every gay tank top I had into my bag and headed out to the island.
We were staying at the hotel which is awesome because its close to everything and not awesome because the toilet broke so we had to use the one in the trannie’s dressing room downstairs. Yes, I did walk in on a tranny. No, I didn’t ask her to move over so I could piss frozen margaritas into her makeup stool (read: toilet).
The title to this post is a little misleading. I am a trickster–just ask anyone who has ever believed I have AIDS or am in Jail on April Fool’s Day can attest to. (That would be every single person of importance in my life–as evidenced HERE. )
As I may have mentioned the key components to an amazing vacation are equal parts crazy time and down time. This post is about the times when I thought to myself: “Well fuck my ass, I am really lucky to have best friends like these. Not bad for a kid who used to sit at home watching Queer As Folk in Panama City and think: ‘One day I will move somewhere bigger and have a group of gay friends that I can call family.’”
Logan got the drop on me. He pulled the wool over my eyes. He bamboozled the shit out of me. While I was chatting up some North Carolina guys he said “Can I talk to you privately for a second?” I assumed he wanted to talk shit and went with him, completely trusting since I am normally the only sneaky bitch in the group. He took me over towards the pool and shoved me the fuck in, right in front of god, drag queens and queers everywhere. I wasn’t even upset that I had a drink in my hand. This prank was that awesome.
*My birthday dinner was a hot mess. I say this knowing full well that a birthday dinner is really a reflection of a person–so mine was disorganized, crazy, drunken, and quite an adventure. A complete shitshow. I’m actually proud. In order to save time I have just inserted the facebook message I had between Jats and I regarding the dinner,which he missed because he was day-drunk and passed out.
In order to scale back my daytime drunken fiasco’s, I only went to brunch twice this year. Can somebody please tell me why it always lasts 12 hours? I am up at 6 am because I went to bed by 11 pm after trying drunkenly to watch the sequels to both Titanic and Mean Girls, and unsuccessfully drunk texting my fuckbuddy. The exchange is as follows:
Him: What would it take to get you to come over here?
Me: A million dollars.
Me: I’m not worth a million dollars. Read more…