Tag Archives: vodka martinis

ocd, a bad attitude & mid-year resolutions

posted by:  audra

in an attempt to start june off with a better attitude, i’ve made a little listy-loo for myself of things to accomplish this month.  as an added bonus, i’ll be including some of the stupider things i’ve done in recent memory…because we all love to hear about others’ failures.  sort of like a mid-year resolution list.  and anyway, we hate it when our friends become successful, right?  it’s true.  morrissey doesn’t lie!

what?  whatever.  okay, here we go:

*i will start working out.  even though it’s hot & i hate sweating, i am getting fat girl arms and it’s terrible.  i have also developed a built-in plate holder on my midsection.  gross.  i know i say it all the time, but things are getting out of control.

*i will not pull over on the side of a dusty gravel road out in the middle of nowhere & urinate on my kate spade flats.  again.

*i should stop smoking in the car.

*i will not order any more fruity, sugar-rimmed bitch drinks at the bar, just because they’re different from an extra-clean ketel martini.  i’ll stick with the big girl drinks.  thanks, but no thanks.

*next time i play pinochle with the parents, i’ll wear elbow pads to avoid any unsightly blistering.

*whilst cleaning out the car, i’ll remember that i wadded up two semi-sharp cheese knives in a zip-loc & stuck them in the glove box.  when i remember this, i’ll surely be able to not hastily grab the baggie, compact it down with my knee, & pierce a hole through my jeans & knee…then cutting the shit out of my fingertip.  also, note to self:  keep band-aids & bactine in the car.

*i’ll get drunk by myself more often & watch pretty in pink on repeat for several hours.  i haven’t done this in so long that i feel like i’m losing myself!

*i will not stop telling you all ‘i told you so’ when you fuck up.  because i’m right, you know i’m right, i’m always right, and knew i was right from the start.  i always look out for your best interests…and anyway, who loves you more than any of your other loser friends?!  me!  i do!  i love you!

*i’ll start being more honest about not liking slumdog millionaire.  i keep saying, ‘oh, it was good…not that great…i liked it alright.’  but i really didn’t like it!  it was annoying.  it seemed long.  it was a stupid love story.  it made me feel gross.  god, i need a rape-shower just thinking about it.

*i’ll keep making fun of our neighbor with the ocd tendencies:  flipping the patio light on & off a certain number of times, flicking the locks on her sliding glass door & window repeatedly before retiring to bed for the evening, talking to herself…it’s ridiculous.  shit drives me mad.  that bitch is crazy & desperately needs some meds.

*we will blog more often.  for realsies.  just like in the beginning…remember?

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no need to slit your wrists just yet…

posted by:  audra

how is it that you’ve been able to carry on?!  seriously, we’ve been super-lazy & really uninspired lately…combine that with being busy, & then a whole stream of unfortunate events…well, it just leads to lameness.

but fret no more.

i have news.  sort of. well, at least i have something moderately entertaining to talk about…?

following what could have possibly been one of the more poor quality weeks i’ve had in awhile, i get a speeding ticket on my way into work friday.   my driving record is clean, & was only following the flow of traffic at 70 mph in a 55 zone.  big fucking deal, yeah?  oh, this cop was quite the  ass!  he was short, really, really unattractive, pudgy, & had a real attitude on him.  i believe it was his personal mish to ruin some swell girl’s friday…even though he told me to ‘have a nice day’.

wait–i should’ve prefaced the story a little better:  i was feeling like such a bad person last friday, that i gave money to a homeless lady i see on the freeway ramp all the time.  if she were to clean up a spot, i think she’d make a damn fine dame judy dench stunt double!  anyway, i just needed something to make me feel better…even if it was supporting her meth habit.  so i did something nice, & was expecting karma to reciprocate the generosity, & went about my way.

but that didn’t happen.

fuck you, officer douche bag!  you’re a dick & you successfully ruined my friday.  i hope you’re happy & i hope you went home to find that someone has sewn rotting sardines into all your draperies.  have a nice day.  next!

but wait again–it gets better!  saturday sam & i went out to see some friends we haven’t seen in like, 4 years.  we get drinks, giggle uncontrollably & fun ensues.  i had maybe 4 or 5 ketel martinis.  extra dry, please, & keep it clean…a martini is the only thing i don’t like dirty.  i haven’t had any hard liquor in some time, & had actually stopped drinking it in favor of beer or wine, because i tend to get a wee bit too tipsy.  you see, good vodka tastes like water & i really, really like water.

the 7 of us pile into a cab & we head to a show down the way.  i’m sitting in the very back, so i’m last to get out.  apparently, i’m way excited to get into another bar & get myself a drink, so i step a little hastily out onto the little running board (or whatever).  whoopsies!  i start to fall (but not all the way down this time, thanks baby jesus).  someone catches me (i’m still unclear who, but thank you…justin?!).  i blurt out something like, “oh my god!  i’m totally not that drunk, i swear!  my heel got caug….”

someone (again, not sure who…it’s all a blur from the trauma) says to me that my heel has broken off.  what?

not just any heel.

my favorite-favorite red marc jacobs heels, peep toe, nearly mint condition, never had a scratch or had to get them resoled, deliciously tall towers of shoe perfection.

broken.

even the pad on the heel came off!  of course, instead of just taking off my shoes like any normal person would do, i walked tall & acted like nothing had happened.  i think i pulled it off pretty well…but i did have to hobble just a little bit…and fill every single bar patron in on my ordeal.  strangers even — the bartender, a plastic surgeon, a cute boy named garrett…

it was rough, but i made it through the evening.  i have to say, once we got back to the car, it made it easier to drive not having a heel on my right foot.  i was still upset though.  what’s a girl to do?

vintage shopping!  sunday afternoon sam & i dragged ourselves out of  hangover hideaway & went to my favorite vintage store.  i had a good feeling about this trip, because just friday night i dreamt that i went a’vintaging & found loads & loads of amazing stuff.   well kids, i didn’t find loads of amazing stuff…but what i did find were these things:

  • handbag i wanted in december.  it’s super cute, a bit too small for me, but 1950s flat flip top handbag with a mirror inside.  the reasons i didn’t buy it were that it’s a little beat up, & the mirror is unglued.  they still had it.  i almost bought it.  almost.  i couldn’t deal with the disintegrating leather.
  • blue & black striped jumpsuit, satin, circa 1985.  so rad!  i decided against it though.  really, how many times can you be seen in something like that?
  • black 1960s audrey hepburn-esque sleeveless cocktail dress.  super cute & doesn’t exacerbate my extra cushioning too much.  i actually bought this one.
  • tab hunter on vinyl.  i think this one speaks for itself.
  • super rad vintage ruched clutch, black leather, 1980s.  it’s tiny & awesome & looks like something lorna doom would carry.  i love it & am wringing my hands bloody in anticipation for wearing it out.
  • ready?  okay.  i found the raddest 1960s fetish stilettos.  i tried just one on in the store, & had to have them!  black patent deliciousness.  obscenely tall…they put all my other heels to shame.  i measured.  6″(!).  sixxx inchesss.    that means that when i put them on, it makes me nearly 6’0” tall…except i can’t stand in them.  they are literally so fucking tall that i can’t straighten my knees.  if they had some sort of platform on them, they would totally be more wearable, but they don’t.  so, they either become sitting-shoes or sex-shoes.  i’m cool with either.

here are the shoes…i know you’re dying to see them!  i swear on chanel, they don’t look half as tall in the photograph as they are in person.  trust me.  i know tall shoes & can walk in them better than flats.

jealous yet?  you should be.  sam & i then went out for yet more ketel martinis & beer & wreaked havoc at the porn store.  i needed something to go with my shoes, of course.

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