Sunday Funday, Awkward Monday

23 Jul

So I had a super calm weekend until yesterday. Not really by choice. Of the handful of friends I have so far in RVA, all of them were either chilling out, out of town, or occupied with plans that I couldn’t (appropriately) demand an invite to. I blame the weather for my distaste for this weekend. If Mother Nature weren’t such a bitch and could spare a little SUN, I could have happily basked in the warm rays of glory like one of those cute little turtles. Anyway, in retrospect, as always, getting a solid 9 hours of sober(ish) sleep both Friday and Saturday was a good thing. Plus Saturday didn’t completely suck because drinks at Comfort make even a bland day not-so-bland. 

But Sunday, by God, I was determined to fit enough weekend to make up for it all in one day. Sidenote: don’t go to On The Rox for brunch. Great for happy hour, not so much for brunch. Unless you want a breakfast burrito or waffle. Because that’s about all they got. Back to the point, I was on a mission. Until my partner in crime decided 2:30 was an appropriate time to call it a day. Excuse? You’re leaving? Wha..? 

All hail the magical power of the internet. Within minutes I was on my way to Lady Nawlins. And what a damn fine Lady she is. You know what is NOT fine? Rumplemintz shots. Yes, that is an “s” on the end of shot. No one ever wakes up and thinks, “Damn! Those rumple shots were a great idea!” No. Instead, you wake up trying to piece together your evening. Which I may have not been able to do had I not found a McDonald’s bag with an empty spicy McBites container – I did have the good sense to not use the ranch dipping sauce even in my stupor. Ranch is for the birds. Really dirty birds who probably also eat sticks of butter.

So where’s this going you may ask? Right. Seeing as hitting the drive thru usually isn’t my go-to move (eating an entire box of cereal while apparently throwing it around my apartment like confetti would fit the bill), I clearly do not have my car. This is a good thing considering I was in no shape to drive it, but it created QUITE the dilemma. I feel like death and my car is in Carytown. Ugh. Maybe my co-worker can take me to get it? Let me text her. Wait. Where is my phone?

 Discover my sun-staches and mascara are missing as well. I can see it now.. RAAAAAAAAWWRRR! Where is my credit card?! Let me just dump my purse upside down and get all this shit out of here to help me find it!!! Who needs stuff anyway?

ImageLost Awesomeness. So Sad.

So let’s recap the situation. I’m dehydrated and slightly nauseous. I have no phone or car. I have to be at work in an hour. So I ran to Carytown.

Yes, ran.

It was so painful, you guys. That must be what running feels like for most people. I was breathing fire and sweating bullets and I’m fairly certain I died and just barely came back to life. And of course the hills were bigger than usual. They probably went back to normal size as soon as I was done. And then on top of that, I was half panicking that my car wouldn’t be there. Because then what the fuck was I going to do? To hell with running the 3 1/2 miles back home. But she was, she was there! My beautiful pTERRAdactyl on the corner of Main and Stafford.

Don’t mind me, morning commuters. Just pickin up my car. Totes normal.

Didn’t exactly have time to shower for work, so I kind of smell. Did iCloud my phone. According to the app it looks like it’s at the bar. Also confirmed on twitter that I did in fact leave it there. So I got that going for me.

I would like to end by stating that I am super classy. I do this type of thing often enough that my parents knew I lost the phone because I wasn’t over-sharing my life on social media for more than 12 hours. So my dad called my office. Thanks for relaying the message, co-worker. And thanks for caring, Dad. Just another day in the life of a responsible 27 year old. I’m still trying to figure out how I can possibly be the same age as people with babies.

The good news is, one of my friends was kind enough to make my day look like a walk in the park, since she went home with a 23 year old who still has frat memorabilia on his wall. You know what they say, one person’s shame is another person’s reassurance of their life.

Happy Monday, everyone.

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: