Booze, Strippers, and The Awkward Robot.

This has been a tough week. I'm not sure if the added yuckiness is because of week 12 or simply magnified by week 12, but either way... This week has been almost a total bummer. Not only does the final weigh in fall right on top of my "monthly visitor", but Smarty McSmartpants over here decided that, in an attempt to not feel quite so terrible about my recent breakup, that it was a good idea to go out drinking with my buddy Joey....on a Wednesday night... when I had to work the next day... and then do my final weigh in today.... Yeah.


So now, not only do I have a bruised and swollen (possibly sprained?) finger, a definitely sprained toe (which is good because initially I thought it was broken), a fist shaped bruise on my left shoulder, and a bruise the size of a car bumper on my left hip, BUT I've also got alcohol bloat to add to my "lady troubles" bloat which is JUST SUPER! I haven't weighed in yet, but I'm willing to guarantee that I'm up a pound from last week.
 

As for what actually happened Wednesday night I'm sort of blurry on a few of the details. I think it went something like this: Meet up with Joey and his roommate Dave, start at a dive bar, then to a weird bar inside of a gym, beer in a bucket,

Me and Dave

...walk home, take a cab to a douche bag college bar, jeiger bomb, golden tee with Dave, walk to a different douchey college bar which was empty, Joey finds some stripper he used to do the no pants dance with and she drives us to yet another douchey college bar that is masquerading as an upscale, European inspired underground bar (that means it was dark, in a basement, and had red velvet curtains), every girl in the place is roughly 5'4" 200 lbs. and wearing 3 inch long tight as shit jean shorts and I begin to suspect I've somehow landed in an episode of the twilight zone. It was like a Snooki convention without the Jersey hair poof. All the guys in there were wearing Polo's and slightly cocked fitted baseball caps. Luckily Joey is a man whore, and "knows" the bartender so we get a bunch of free shots, and this is where the night took a turn for the worst(?). At some point Joey and I get into a fight, which means that one of us went up to the other and threw a punch with no reason or warning (it's sort of how our friendship works), and this is where I get the bruises on my shoulder and hip. The fight turns into an awkward dance off where the three of us showcase such classics as the Off-Rhythm Robot, and The Sprinkler.


This goes on for possibly a little bit too long because when we're done we realize the stripper has disappeared and when she comes back she's got a new guy in tow, but she does agree to give us a ride home which I guess was pretty nice of her, even though I think Joey was a bit disappointed with his replacement. On the way back to their apartment Dave and I are in the backseat rifling through her personal belongings (clothing,mostly underwear, that she swears are clean) when one of us, and I'm not going to say who, decides it's a good idea to take a souvenir. We get home safe and sound and I head upstairs with them to sober up before going home where we discover that she was lying about the clothes being clean and the dirty, glittery thong ends up hanging on the stuffed bear in the boy's living room. 

I'm still not clear on how I hurt my finger and my toes, but I was wearing sandals so the toe thing could've occurred during the dance off, and the bruised knuckle (which also has a whole in it by the way) I THINK has something to do with punching Joey and somehow colliding with the keys he had in his hand. Maybe I don't want to know.

It was a fun night, but not worth the consequences really. I'm still recovering physically, I sabotaged my weigh in for the week, and it didn't make me feel any better about my trashed relationship.

Not actually me

Here's something I don't understand: When you're with someone and they say things like they'll never leave you, or whatever, and you call bullshit because no one can say that with any certainty- you get called jaded, or cynical, etc... But as soon as things aren't going exactly how they want them to, or their feelings or pride get hurt, and they decide it's time to bail out on you completely, suddenly everything that was said before doesn't count. This is why I called bullshit in the first place... I guess I just don't understand saying pretty flowery things to someone just because... I don't understand a lot of things I guess. Sometimes I feel like an alien.