The Southern Sex and the City

Soul mate: (n) 1822; a person who is perfectly suited to another in temperament; a person who strongly resembles another in attitudes or beliefs. They have many similar interests and share an almost equal interest in their life direction. They will think alike and in many cases will be able to continue speaking a sentence where the other one has left off. They are a mirror of each other, although they do not have to be exactly the same. However, each one compliments the other with their individual strengths and weaknesses and they will understand each other by being on same 'wavelength'. There is no limit to what a true Soul Mate might do in order to provide their support and, on many occasions, it is not fully understood why they do so. (Webster Dictionary)

A friend is the one who comes in when the whole world has gone out. Maybe our girlfriends are our soulmates and guys are just people to have fun with.

I have the best friends in the whole world.

I met Charlie 10 years ago in a hallway at high school. She was wearing overalls and thought it was ok to comment on the money hanging out of my pocket. The money was a carefully executed plan to get more money and the overalls just begged me to make fun of her. She took it in stride though and we've been together ever since. We's like peas and carrots.

I met Poppy shortly after that..working lemonade stands trying to holla for a dolla. The attraction wasn't instant due to Poppy's natural ability to be flighty but it wasn't long before she too joined the wolf pack. Poppy has connections that only publicist dream about. This is a bitch you want on your team.

I've known Mercedes the least amount of time but that doesn't make her any less important in my world. She's a down ass bitch and gorgeous. We can get into bars and drinks bought for us just because of her boobs. She's quick to go along with whatever you need and loves a good fight.

I met Kate my freshmen year of college at Auburn. I was at a guys apartment watching ESPN or playing cards, when she came in. She stumbled up the stairs out of her mind wasted. I knew before she even spoke that we'd be fast friends. After she offered me the left over tuna casserole that had been sitting on the stove for 4 days, I knew then we were in it for life.

Esperanza (who I call Z) and I formed a tight friendship over books, history and religion. The 2 short years that I've known her seem like 20. We get it. We get each other and we get our desperate need to talk about current events, the country's past presidents and the constitution. All over a good margarita.

I met Mikey through my brother. I'd known of her for years but never had any one on one time. I was partying with the boys one day and Stephen said Mikey was coming over. I usually hate all of his friends but this time it was different. Mikey came with her own personal cooler full of goodies and vodka. A girl after my own heart. She hates all the same people I do and devoted herself to Ketel One. She doesn't take shit and she was never scared of how deep I roll. Bitch got a slot on my team the instant her cooler cracked open..it was love at first drink.

Kate and Z are married and can't always be down to clown but that doesn't mean that they are any less on my team or any less apart of my heart.

These are my bitches. We ride together. We die together. And that's true life. I can't even begin to describe the loyalty and the complete love we have for each other. If you mess with one of us, we will light your shit up. We're brutally honest with not just people on the streets but with each other. We keep it real. We don't judge. We make every attempt to have clear cut understandings about the way we feel. We don't do drama. And we don't do amateur hour.

We will go to war for each other and not think twice about the firing range we may have to stand in front of. We protect each other, we cover for each other, we are committed to the goals and success of each person. If you come at one of us, you'll be coming at all of us. Don't think for one minute you can get away with anything. We will find you. There's not a single one of us that wouldn't do hard time because some fuckhead thought they could get away with some bullshit. If you've never heard the song "Goodbye Earl" by the Dixie Chicks...now would be a good time to look it up.

We are rude but honest. Ruthless but loyal. Loud and annoyingly opinionated but silent when you ask for last nights details. We will lie for each other, kill for each other, die for each other. These girls and I will parade these streets and I'll be damned if you rain on it.

So when you think you wanna talk some game sprinkled with bullshit on it or deny something we know to be true, you should start sleeping with one eye open cause my whole bitch ass crew is coming for you. There is a special place in hell for the haters and the betrayers and we'll be your one way ticket greeters.

They're my soul mates. I will fight for them. They will fight for me. I have the best friends in the whole world. You should be so fucking lucky.


Stay classy. Stay on point. And above all...stay alive.

Ballers on a Budget

This is alittle different but the information is too good to not share with the team.


My friends have been real innovators (ßthis is my newest favorite word) lately. I’ve never been more proud. You know that moment when something truly wonderful falls into place and you think “Huh..why haven’t we been doing this the whole time?”

I’m all about a good time. I’m also all about a cheap good time. The same goes for my friends. Cheap whores. Yes. CNN has been telling me that the recession is over but we all seem to still be experiencing a personal recession. We got shit to save for. Like the giant slide and bouncy float that will hold 40 people for the pool. But just because we’re all on budgets doesn’t mean we rely on guys for our drinks or cut back on the amount of alcohol intake.

No my friends, in fact we up the ante. Get out your pen and paper and take notes. You’ll need this for future reference I’m sure. First of all..happy hour is your friend. Half priced drinks and $1.00 beers are enough to get any true alkie’s legs moving. Now the important way of saving money…pack a cooler in your car..frequent it during the night. Make sure your purse is big enough and you have the right bottles. No cans. They’ll catch on to that shit. Downsize your purse. You’ll need room. Guys find a good girl friend to carry the goods. She’ll be down to clown. Recession hits all children of shape and size. No one is safe.

The number one thing you kids need to remember is this: Miniatures. One miniature bottle holds about a shot and half maybe. Coke/Diet Coke/Dr. Pepper/Sprite/Whatever your heart desires is free at the bars. FREE bitches. Free.Because coke is like water at restaurants..they make their money off the liquor and although you’ll get some funny looks cause you clearly haven’t been drinking just coke.. keep on rolling. Now follow along…one Jack/Coke is say $5.50 at the bar. It takes at least 2 to get you started. SO you’ve already spent $11.00 before you even have a buzz. ß Not recession proof material.

BUT if you go to the liquor store get 8 minitures…that’s 8 drinks for those of you who can’t count..it will cost you $13.00. That’s right $13.00. Say it with me…Recession. Get a coke as soon as you walk in…drink that shit down..scuffle your drink under the table or grab yourself a lookout and pour one of the goods in. And BAM you have 8 drinks that cost less than 3 drinks at the bar. And BAM you get a buzz after say…3. What’s not to love? I’m trying to learn you guys something important here.

My lady friends and I did this very activity this weekend. I don’t think we’ve ever gone quite so balls to the wall and been so hammered in the downtown night life. For under $20.00 and not relying on guys to pull our drinks. Cause you know what that means..they expect payment. Sooner or later they expect payment.

And that’s my money saving tip lovers and friends. Get you some minifriends and join in on the budget saving skills we’ve already acquired. You’ll be glad you did.

Stay classy readers. Stay on point. And as always..stay alive.

The Recovery Process.

O good Lord. It’s like I’ve been in the East Indies looking for the cure to Ebola.I didn’t realize 2010 wanted to bend me over without vaseline. There has been no romance to our relationship. My soul usually goes into mourning after the football season ends. I like to refer to the time before March Madness as “recovery time." You may or may not be familiar with this term. Doctors like to throw it around after major surgery to indicate how long a patient will have to recovery from the trauma the body goes through during said surgery. Let’s call 2009 the surgery and the last 4 months the recovery time.

I use the recovery time just like any patient who’s been through a trauma would…in complete seclusion. Of course the 27 snow storms that could rival some of Massachusetts finest blizzards also aided the recovery time by forcing me to drink at home.Snow storms can make you go crazy. I think everybody I know right now is pregnant. Why? Cause when you’re locked up you either fuck or get fucked up. Naturally.. I always choose the latter first. You get great ideas like doing shots for every snowflake that hits the ground..the line at the liquor store is out the door and people in line are high-fiving like crazy and before you know it..you're dropping $150 on alcohol.

No power and two feet of snow can take anyone’s alcoholism to another level. There are many creative games you can play too..for example “Find the treasured alcohol”… After the first blizzard.. buy a thirty and put it in a cooler..hide it out in the backyard. When the second blizzrd has deposited 2 feet of snow on top of said cooler.. get a shovel..make a treasure map and hand it out to all your snowed in friends. Then take photos. You’ll want to remember these days. When the sun comes out and the snow is finally starting to melt…vodka bottles start popping up everywhere. Similar to burying nuts for the winter. Let’s call it Snowmageddon. Livers can’t take it and they’re overrated.

I started to emerge from the recovery process for March Madness until my bracket ended up looking like swiss cheese and consisted of just a bunch of teams that lost. Way to go Kansas. Despite March Madness living up to its name..we will be doing big things this year.

This summer I'll be heading to Mexico for the real tequila and a 5 day Latin lover who doesn’t speak English. Of course Saturdays will be a repeat of last year with the beer pong float and the octabong. Cinco de Mayo is coming up. You definitely don’t want to miss the debauchery that will be my life in the coming blogs. Because the doctors say…after the recovery process..the scars will fade significantly..you will begin to feel like yourself..they will encourage you to maintain a healthy diet because the right food and drink combo can help you regain strength and sometimes they recommend physical therapy. I'll definitely be liquoring myself up according to my healthy diet and hitting the gym to get ready for my physical therapy with my Latin lover. Doctor's orders.

So here’s to the nights where the sand is your seat..the waves kiss you feet..your friends outnumber the stars and even the chilliest of nights are still warmer than the cold one in your hand.

Stay on point. Stay alive. And above all stay classy.

It's the most wooonderful time of the yeaaarrr.

Well kids. It's the holiday season again.

I love the holidays. Any holiday that makes a special drink equipped with alcohol so you won't kill your family is an alright season for me. Come to think of it ..that's every season for me...but I digress.

Garrison Keillor once said "A lovely thing about Christmas is that it's compulsory, like a thunderstorm, and we all go through it together." And go through it DO I.

This holiday season kicked off much in the same fashion it does every year. J and I usually have a strict schedule we adhere to the entire 2 months of November and December. It is strageized and carefully catered to our liking- plan. One that takes the other 10 months to plan out. We sit down at dinner like we are writing the next Declaration of Independence. This is the one time of year where we will allow blackouts without explanation. All throughout the season we will cheers to each other with one word.."Holidays."

There's a BIG event that launches us full speed- mass flying- rutter pointed forward into the spirit of the holidays. This year we decided to skip Thanksgiving with the familys..because the holidays are about us.. and go hunting and from there head to the Iron Bowl. A true spectacle.

As I've previously said in past blogs...we go full stealth mode. We took a day off of work to prepare. Get our minds right if you will. Much in the same way Rocky trains for a fight. Hunting is not for the weak. And neither are our holiday celebrations. After loading the cooler down with our holiday specials we were headed to Memaw's house.

Memaw's house is exactly what it sounds like...in the middle of the country..where deer roam free and unaware. J and I ready for the hunt.. decide to call it an early night and head to the back room for some shut eye. Little did we know that the holiday Grinch would try to throw us a curve ball.

The scene was this: 2 a.m. Both of us are sleeping restlessly..Thinking about the tree stand no doubt. When J seizes up..scratches furiously and rolls over. Odd.

Then my hand was on fire. FIRE I tell you. We both ninja flip out of the bed and immediately turn on our night vision and throw up our Marine hand signals.

Bathroom is what J's hand says. Shit on a Mulberry bush is what my hand reads.

The hair on my neck stands up...someone is trying to sabotage my holiday spirit. We turn the light on and discover a wasp. In our bed. On a mission. I made up cuss words at this point.

15 minutes later.. tobacco and barbie band aids on our stings we are nestled back into bed.. like live wires waiting for the enemy to strike again. I said "Self..if this messes with your shooting range...I will choke a wasp."

5 a.m. Thanksgiving Day. Despite the set back.. we are surprisingly alert. And ready. Stealth mode is on standby as we trudge out to the tree stand. Jingle Bells is playing in my head because...it's the holidays.

9 a.m. Nothing. I didn't even see a leaf move. At least we'll get to go back to Memaw's and everyone will be at the community center getting ready for TDay and the bathroom will be free and we will have nice hot showers.<---I also allow myself to dream whimsically during the holidays as well. It's the season of hope.

11 a.m. J and I are screaming out new cuss words and singing "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" as we wash each others hair in freezing cold water. Memaw has limited hot water. 30 people went before us. I would have boiled some hot water on the stove if only I had known. Survival 101 guys.

12 p.m. pop a top again cause it's five o'clock somewhere. You gotta be on point if you wanna hang with us. Turkey is being served and we're kicking it off right. Later on in the day we're feeling extra spirited and volunteer to take the knee high children on a nature walk. With beers in our hand, we taught them all about the importance of a nature walk stick and what kind of tree a Christmas tree is..and team work.

As we sang our last rendition of "Proud Mary" around the camp fire and our cooler is in desperate need of a full up...we decide to head to Auburn for the iron bowl.

After I get us to the AU using a map and a pencil..my skills run so deep...we waste no time mixing drinks and getting this football party going. After party hoping..Lil Wayne sing-a-longs and explaining what real liquor tastes like to the poor college kids..it's 5a.m. again.

J and I...like the Vietnamese soldiers we are..have stayed up a full 24 hours. Why stop there? Lets pull for 48. We've got that illegal speed in the car. Always reach for more children.

Tailgates and power hours later we're inside the stadium mixing drinks and heading out for a hearty War Eagle game. The game I screamed and yelled and almost passed out at..and that is true life.

As the weekend wound down to a close and we took a moment and survayed our accomplishments. What we realized was that real dreams do come true! I will list them in a bullet format below.

• Lost our voices. <---We make this a point during football season. If you still have your voice you obvi didn't yell loud enough at the refs. I'm not sayin, I'm just sayin.


• 48 hours up straight. No sleep. No lie. We go so hard.


• 72 hours of straight drinking...a continuous buzz was going at all times.Ccollege kids were in awe. That's just how I roll.


• 7 dollars left in my checking account. Sad day on this one. At least it went to a worthy cause. Alcohol and football.


• Feel asleep while farming on Farmville at 4 in the morning.


• Used our Marine techniques to shimmy my car out of a nearly impossible road block.


• Hissed at bitches and almost got to fight one.


• Have not taken a hot shower since Tuesday..it's now Saturday.


• Left behind a legacy. My cooler gets a standing ovation when we enter a room now. I've never been more proud.

A success? Check. Welcome to our Holiday Extravaganza. It keeps on poping until the ball drops in the New Year. Then we just call it our life after that...

Stay tuned. You'll definitely wanna see what Crazy gives me this year and how drinking can bringing everyone closer.

Happy holidays. Stay alive.

And this is why I am such an inspirational person. I am the Joel Osteen of alcoholics.

I'm not the blogging type. I'm the stroy telling type. I wish I could put my hand motions and animated face in blog form. Like at this moment I would toss my hands up and jester forward to the right alittle and squint one eye and tilt my head to the left. True life..you are missing out.

Regardless of the lack of hand motions and actual animations the internet can't provide for you.. unless I get inspired by a true life event..I can't blog. Won't happen. I will sit and stare and eat peanuts and nothing will be blogged. I get death threats and skittles thrown at my windows because I haven't blogged. Seriously getting bear traps next week.

That being said..true life hasn't really impressed me lately. It goes without saying that I've been drunk and funny shit has happened. Like smoking weed for the first time and seeing unicorns and cheetos...it's football season. Things always get out of hand. But nothing that inspires a blog.

Until last night. My birthday was on Wednesday. I usually just make skittle vodka..and toast myself..I may say something like "Hot bitch you are fine again this year." or "Heres to you and not being in rehab this year." or "Celebrate good times come on!" while I electric slide across the patio.

I decided a quiet dinner with some friends would be rewarding. Only my friends are anything but quiet. And dinner..usually consists of more liquid than actual food. There's an old saying "You are who you hang out with." and it's no different in my circle. We drink whatever you put in front of us. We talk constantly about weight gain and botox. If one of us is doing it..chances are we're all doing it. We have unhealthy obsessions. The latest phases to hit us are boob implants and latin dance class. We are loud, rude and ruthless. We're mean and can roundhouse kick your nose in. These are my bitches. We ride togther. We die together. And that's true life.

So after work we all head over to Conners steak house. As soon as we sit down the waiter is over asking what we want to drink. Common folk would say "I'd like a water" or "I'd like a coke." We however have our IDs ready and are spitting out our first choice of alcoholic beverage for the night. I ordered a whole bottle of Pino Grigio. Keep it classy San Diego. Poppy always on her toes says "Let's just go ahead and start off with two bottles of Pino Grigio." I like a fast drinker..er thinker.

Party starts rolling..old people are shaking their heads. We're swapping sex stories and laughing so hard we're snorting. The waiters love people like us. We come in ready. Poppy is snapping photos while I'm animating a story with my hands and odd facial movements. You can always tell when we're getting tipsy by the number of times we say "Real talk right now.." followed by some sort of idea/drink order/insult.

"Real talk" is flying left and right. We're making fun of each other and yelling swears. The waiter has just brought over a birthday shot of Ketel One. MY kind of restaurant. No singing..no double double chocolate lava cake..or off beat clapping that requires me to knee kick everyone to the ground. A DOUBLE SHOT OF ALCOHOL. My soul is singing. The quickest way to my heart is through alcohol.

By this point it's safe to say we are drunk. We've gone through 4 bottles of wine between the 4 of us. Not to mention the shots we took. The fact that we were able to walk out of the restaurant and make it to the club across the sidewalk is the work of an angel.

I'm told I made sure everyone knew it was my birthday. The bartender handed me water instead of the vodka I ordered. I was cut off before I even started. Definitely a new high.

I wish I could tell you how the night ended..but I can't remember. I would like to point out that the drunk me is so cute taking care of the sober me. I managed to get my face washed, teeth brushed, contacts out without losing an eye, and a glass of water by my bed for the morning. Drunk me is so thoughtful.

Next year I'll be 25. I'm planning on shutting the block down and having a street party. We're still partying the whole weekend for my birthday. It's like hanukkah. I'll post first thing Monday morning if I survive.

Alcohol is my way of life.. and I aim to keep it.

Oh vodka. I could write you a sonnet.

Hello my little fat cherubs and heavenly harpists.

As you all know..I'm ADHD and I drink alot of vodka. Therefore I've left you all blogless for far too long. Blame it on the mojito season. And beer pyramids that won't make themselves..lets be real.

As I reflect back on the month of July...I realize very quickly that most of it was a drunken blur. Just how I like my summers... and every other season for that matter.

July is by far my favorite month of the year. It's the hottest..so I can really embrace my mexican heritage. It's also when our nations Independence Day takes place. Two things I don't screw around with in the summer...the limit I can push my body in terms of sun and the highest alcoholic level I can achieve...and the fabulous excuse to light shit on fire and drink yourself into a coma and blame it on our nations birth. Terrific. Well planned fore fathers. I tip my hat to you.

This fourth I spent it with my boss. She's good soul people and she never lets you down on the alcohol. Her family was joining us from the deep south and I knew I was in for a real treat. I got up early that day..drank an Amp Overdrive followed by some more alcohol because I needed to be alert and ready.

I realized I had stumbled into something special when the grill back fired and her aunt dove behind a chair and told all of us to get down because there was a drive by. She was about 3 days drunk when she got there...so you can imagine what great friends we soon became. She stumbled around with her words...but because I speak fluent drunk ...we had no language barrier. I also owe my deviled egg skills to her. I hope you come by my house on Christmas.

Every weekend in July my friends and I would lay out by the pool. Popping tops at 9:30 AM and staying well into the afternoon. Nothing like the scorching sun rays to help dehydrate you and get you drunk faster. Ahh summer..how I wish you could stay...we bought a beer portopong float and we stole an octabong (an 8 person funnel..it's great for under water). The cops have been called on us twice and I believe UAB has moved me up the liver transplan list. After laying out ALL day, we'd drink some Amp Overdrives and head out into the downtown oasis for more drinks and some hardcore bump and grinding on the dance floors.

After a month of building up our tolerance levels to Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan rehab worthy.. we decided to celebrate with an all girls beach trip.

Three days. 12 girls. Coolers full of alcohol. The octabong. The portopong. And luia decor. There's not awhole lot I can say about this trip because there's not awhole lot I can remember. What I do know is..we put our SEC college drinking skills to the test and came out victorious. We drank some frat boys under the table and danced til 4 in the morning. I remember testifying to the band singing "Purple Rain" like it was my life's theme song. J and I discovered that you get more free drinks when you say you're twins and that you just turned 21. I'm pretty sure..someone sang happy birthday and dedicated a song to us. I take pictures so I can remember what happened the night before...

Like I said. July was one big drunken blur...and if that's how my summer was...I can't wait til it's the holidays again. So come on and help me out Ketel One..if you have a drink please put it high in the air and repeat after me..Bring on August. I'm planning to do alot of outdoor adventures drunk.

You stay classy readers.

Dave.

So I decided that AA may not be the best choice for me. After I discussed it with Ketel we came to the conclusion that rehab is for quitters. Also they frown upon "Slipping" more than twice a week. I felt like if I had to get up everyday and say "Hi. My names B. I've been sober for.. *looks at watch*.. 34 minutes..and now.. how to make the perfect mojito." I might cause the whole class to slip. And not everyone is a happy and experienced drunk like me...which would result in broken limbs..a stab to the eye or maybe a swift kick to someones lower extremities.

I did however decide that it would be a good idea to write a book about me and Ketel. We've had such a happy life together since I was 12. I feel that I owe it to him. Oh, Ketel One..let me count all the ways that I love you. The day my dad found alcohol in the back trunk of my car when he was going to NASA..you were there. I was only 16...what a day that was. Didn't really turn out like I expected.

I was sitting in my room piecing together the previous night when Dave said "Can you come downstairs?" Ihad to think quick...usually my parents would come upstairs if they needed me..I only went downstairs when they had incriminating evidence against me. My childhood home operated much like a prison. You only have to see the warden when some shit went down. I said "Self...what did you do last week...cheated on two tests...fooled around with my boyfriend in his car in the school parking lot..got caught by his coach..ate some bad lettuce..drank on all the days that ended with Y. Lets see....I blacked out friday from a party...what could it beee?"

I rounded the corner thinking this has got to be about me not changing my oil last week. Dave's a stickler for changing the oil. He even made me write down how much gas I put in my car in a small booklet. That didn't last. Not only because I hate the word booklet but because I have ADHD. You can't ask me to focus on more than one thing at a gas pump. There would be a fire and small children crying. Dave still carries one in his pocket. Ask him about it...make sure you have a spoon to pluck your eyeballs out with close by.

As I got to the kitchen he was standing..odd..waiting for me.."Come with me." Hmm he must have got the note I left him about needing a John Deer gator. They can hold at least five coolers. But to my surprise..it was my cooler he had a question about. He flipped it open..and to my complete enjoyment there sat, glistening with small beads of water dripping down the side..3 bottles of Ketel..two empty bottles of Ketel...a few Mikes Hard Lemonade, two bottles of wine, a 12 pack of Bud and a bent and soaked condom box.

"What's this?" .."I think they call it alcohol Dave."

"Did you just call me Dave?..and not the alcohol..the condoms?" My dads very gifted at staying calm..especially if you can act nonchalant about a situation. I think he appreciates that I can talk to him like a colleague.

I shrugged and looked at my fingers. I noticed for the first time I had a white bandage that took up my two last fingers on my left hand. I would need to call and get some answers later. "Me and my friends blew them up and stuck them in Steve's truck..."

"So these aren't for what I think they are then?"

"Jesus Dave I'm not 12. No they're not for SEX." Yet. With that Dave shrugged..closed my cooler and patted me on the back. "Good..I thought I was going to have to ground you.." and with that he left to go eat more peanuts and read time magazine on how to save more money on gas.

Huh. Nevermind the amount of alcohol that could have caused a small explosion. Dave just didn't want my cherry popped anytime soon.

And that's when me and Ketel become inseparable. I truly believe I owe not being put in the D home or Bradford..at age 16 to Ketel.

So I'm writing a book... about our adventures together. We'll call The Vodka of Life. Because life...it gave me vodka..not just lemons. And it's been happy sailing ever since.