Tag Archives: parties

Uptown Girl


Many months ago, my lovely friend Delightfulness invited me to a party that at the time was to be held at a To Be Determined date. Her boyfriend’s wakeboarding group holds annual Video Premier Parties, and she wished for someone to help keep her entertained while he frolicked drunkenly with his mates. I quickly agreed, as any chance to dress up and hang with a like-minded pal is never to be passed up. After getting all fabulated last night, (as in, dolling ourselves up fabulously) we made our way to Uptown Minneapolis.

There is something to be said of Uptown. Surely, it is over-populated with hipsters and other wanna-be uniquees. But who cannot be awed by the beautiful old buildings that don every corner, and the many businesses trying to be different from all the others? We arrived to the bar where the party was getting started after driving around trying to figure out how to get there because the normal roads were blocked off for the annual Art Fair. Before we stepped into the specially-reserved Messanine Room, I was pleased to have my extensive cleavage ogled by a man with a Heinekin and a wife in the elevator.

Upon entering the “super-special M room”, my friend and I plopped down quite lady-like in the overstuffed leather chairs that are impossible to get out of and proceeded to analyze and Joan-Rivers the steadily growing guests. Later on in the evening, I actually texted my Rockstar the picture I took of the Girl In the Too-Tight Dress as she became known, because the fact that I could see her entire crotchal area and almost her bare bottom could not rudely be kept to myself. It seems that karma most certainly came around on that incident, when Delightfulness disbelievingly pointed out the two non-gentlemen sitting near us indiscreetly taking pictures of my boobage in my sparkly dress. I asked her if I should note to them that such pictures should be used for masturbation purposes only. She, for some reason found this hilarious.

There was one thing that greatly disturbed me. In the wide open party room, the bathroom was blatantly obvious and open to the general public. Of course there was a door with sufficient locking mechanisms to promote privacy while one did their business; however, I needn’t point out that men who imbibe multiple liquorous beverages care not who sees them pee. And so, I decided after seeing at least four men in the urinal position, I needed to find a different restroom to use. Delightful and I headed upstairs to seek one.

Alas! There was no restroom to be found on the open roof of the building, but as we descended once again to the lower levels of the Underlings, I was stopped by a security guard on the stairs.

“Wait! Wait!” He cried in his burly black man way.

I looked around in horror, afraid I had in some way offended the Uptown way of life as I walked down the stairs in my 5″ heels.

“Yes?” I replied hesitantly.

“How you doin?” (Ah, I thought. I understand) He flashed his flirty non-ugly smile at me. “Come here, come here.”

I difficultily ascended a few stairs and leaned forward to hear his whisper.

“Where you from? What’s you’re name? Can I have your number?”

I gave him a million-dollar smile and shrugged.

“I’m Nobody from Far Away, and I don’t know my number.” Delightful and I raced down the stairs when he nearly flung his cell phone at me while trying to convince me to enter my number. Apparently the tie I stole from Delightful’s boyfriend was a Security Guard Magnet.

The rest of the night was a blur, as my older-than dirt brain began to wear down. After leaving the party and trekking a good four blocks in the rain to procure a slice of pizza for the drunken boyfriend of Delight, we were on the road home.

I must say that having a plastered individual back-seat driving is a humourous and yet somewhat-annoying experience. After driving around Lake Calhoun and a few neighborhoods where we could have gotten shot, we found our way back to the interstate. The night was made complete with a late-night stop to Taco Bell, which was disturbingly disgusting. Within 30 seconds of setting foot in Delightful’s apartment, I was sprawled on her couch snoring nearly soundlessly.

P.S. We took a picture in our fabulous get-ups, and laughed hysterically when it looked as though I was pointing at Delight’s much-smaller-than-mine boobies.

 

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Filed under Entertainment, Fashion, Friendship, Humor, Life, Uncategorized

Party or Bust?


So I got to wear my fancy dress last night at my Rockstar’s Mystery Dinner work party. Too bad I was drunk by the time I had to get dressed and couldn’t fully appreciate it. Oops! To tell the story of what ended up being a sucky party, I suppose I shall have to inform you of what happened at last year’s…

Once upon a time last year, Sparklebumps had a boyfriend who worked at a cabinet shop. (Because he’s very good with wood. HA!) Apparently, for some strange and mystifying reason, the Rockstar failed to mention his amazing and witty girlfriend Sparklebumps in any way to his co-workers. So when we went to the Christmas party, the company employees were immediately intrigued by this boisterous lush of a Sparklebumps who proceeded to get hammered in less than an hour. I will admit here that everything about my personality is magnified ten-thousandfold when I’m drinking, so that the funness I gush extends to those around me. (Yes, ok, I will also admit that I find myself completely amusing when I’m drunk, which in turn amuses other people immensely. I think.) So besides for getting to know everything about every one of my Rockstar’s co-workers (including that some of the guys’ women had bubbles that I invaded), I accidentally on-purpose happened to slap one or two of the guys, including the boss. (To which I announced to all the horrified employees “You know I just did what all of you guys want to do every day!”) Be assured, I apologized profusely to each and every person I slapped, and explained that I really did love them all and didn’t mean anything by it. I believed myself to be forgiven, as drunk people tend to be more exonerating than the non-inebriated. Anyhoo, I ended up cleaning up the whole party, (as I am wont to do when tipsy) hugged everybody goodbye, and went home with my Rockstar telling me how utterly “incorrigible” I am. He was amused by the whole thing, since he thinks he works with a bunch of idiotic AssHats.

This year, the party began outdoors with assorted alcoholic refreshments, and needless to say, because of my drunken antics of the past year, EVERYBODY remembered me. (And my DDD’s that they insisted were fake last year.) I noticed immediately that there seemed to be two cliques situating themselves far from each other- the dorkiest of the employees, and the slightly less-dorky. In highschool, it seemed I was one of those rare people who could mesh easily enough with the popular crowd and the misfits, so with my yum-yum Bacardi Diet in hand, I flitted from one group to another. I realized last night that dorky people are much nicer than less-dorky people, so yay for them that they were graced with more of my presence. Anyhoo, we then were instructed to go get changed into our costumes for the Murder Mystery Dinner.

When we all congregated in front of the dinner building, I believe my Rockstar was slightly embarrassed to find he was the ONLY one not wearing a costume. (I TOLD him!) Oh, well. We went inside and the silliness began.

I had the pleasure *snort* of getting to sit next to my Rockstar’s Boss. He was nice enough, though I think he remained watchful and gaurded in case I decided to slap him for some drunken reason. The dinner dragged on for at least 3 1/2 hours, in which time I entertained myself by getting to know the waitresses and asking the other costumed people for accessories of theirs that i thought they could live without. (I accrued a spelunking helmet, 1 cigar, 1 silken hankerchief, a top hat that I decorated with the edible flowers from my dinner, (which somebody ate) and one admonishment from a bitchy wife saying how I was worse that her kids about asking for stuff) I also got to sit straight across the room from my Rockstar, who I made googly eyes at and shared annoyed looks with over the ridiculousness of trying to getting a bunch of intoxicated people to figure out a murder mystery. After the dinner, (at which we discovered that I did NOT kill anybody) we went back to change into duds and then congregate around a fire pit.

I had the distinct pleasure to meet a few guests of the place who were NOT part of our party- two lovely sisters who were very sparkly, their mother who liked wine, and one of there husbands who had a distinguished suit coat on and carried a very debonair Louisiana accent. These happened to be the most interesting people I encountered all night. After I walked them all out to their car, (amidst many hugs and “I’m so glad I met you!”s) I marched on looking for the fun. I entertained myself by mixing drinks and pressing them into people’s hands insisting, “It’s really good!” and imbibing 3 ham sandwiches. I rushed from person to person, asking how things were going, and argued with the Boss on the many reasons I, as a non-company employee, deserved one of the cigars he was handing out. I even managed to obtain a cowbell someone had been rewarded, and sported it proudly between my busooms until someone took it away. (Boo.) The night took a turn for the worse while I was conversing very nicely with one of the guys, and then he belched in my face. I realize that people generally beomce more uncouth the drunker they get, but I maintain my manners at all times, and expect others to in the least not belch in my face. I slapped him and he got really pissed and told me I was, “A waste of air, and to go get a life.” I apologized for slapping him (though I still believe he was ruder than I) but he would have none of it. I asked one of the other guys what he was so pissed about, (as I do not believe my drunken hand could have slapped him THAT hard) and he said, “You know, when you showed up for the first time last year and slapped someone, we all thought about THIS much of you”(holding up fingers to indicate not much) “And now we think even less.” Well, la dee da. So I decided to go back to our cabin and take a jacuzzi bath.

I realize that I can be somewhat obnoxious when I’m drunk, but really, I just want everybody to have a good time. I don’t even attempt to talk to women anymore when I’m drinking, because all I receive in return are looks of disgust, and I don’t know if it’s because they think I’m nuts or are just jealous. I don’t try to steal their men, and I try to include everyone in conversation. But apparently, there’s something threatening about me.

While I took a bath, my drunken Rockstar kept me company and we gossipped about how un-fun everyone there was. (or as he put it, “I work with a bunch of dickheads, don’t I?” When I got out of the tub, we realized that everybody went to bed, (some partiers THEY are) and so he and I sat near the fire pit and just talked. I told him next year, we shouldn’t waste our time and should just stay home with our fun selves.

P.S. I stole a mammoth bowl of candy they had sitting out for everyone. The funny thing is, everyone saw me walk right out of there with it and didn’t say a thing, so obviously they didn’t want any. That was the highlight of my night. I have now enough candy to feed a third world country. XOXO

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Filed under Beauty, Entertainment, Humor, Life, Love, Uncategorized, Work

A Chance To Dress Up


I have decided to post twice today, as I will be gone this weekend, and so I know you will miss me.

It is a grand tradition at my Rockstar’s work to have an annual Holiday Party. In past years, the party has been accompanied by a hefty bonus check for each employee. Sadly, in the last few years, the bonus has been replaced with a better Holiday Party and fishing shirts embroidered with the company logo. This may be the reason why my Rockstar is so bitter about about this year’s festivities. I shall elaborate…

The boss decided to have the party early this year, so next week, he is paying for an all-inclusive night at a bed-and-breakfast, complete with a Mystery Dinner for all his employees. (I believe this is at least partly because he doesn’t want my drunken crazy self anywhere near his house like last year.) When my Rockstar found out, he came home and slammed his lunchbox down and said, “Look at this stupid bull-shit he’s got planned.” I read the brochure, and being the up-beat, fly-by-my-seat gal that I am, exclaimed what fun it would be. My Rockstar said we weren’t going. I was sad.

A while later, he told me he had, in fact, signed us up to go. I was ecstatic, as any excuse to wear heels NOT to work is cause to celebrate. I asked what I should wear, and my Rockstar, knowing me as he does, to;d me, “You don’t have to dress like a prom queen.” Boo.

A week ago, we received invitations suggesting attire. I have been selected to play a bookish Agatha Christie- type, and was told to wear a long flowing dress. As I, like any other girl, looked into my closet and saw nothing to wear, I went to the store and found a last-year’s prom dress for $10. What luck! I brought it home and swished it around excitedly for my Rockstar. His response? “I already told you not to dress up.”

Now dressing the part is not mandatory, but if you get the chance, why wouldn’t you? In the least, I would have expected him to be thrilled to show off his much-younger girlfriend (me) in a long flowy gown complete with DDD’s. Wouldn’t you? So the question is, do I be the fun, fashionable girl I am and wear my fabulous dress when it sounds like most people AREN”T dressing up?

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Filed under Beauty, Fashion, Humor, Life, Love, Uncategorized