a night on the town.

Fear not, friends, I'm alive and well, and with something to actually write about.

So Ash and I have been spending a lot of money...too much money, really...on feeding our hunger for weekends full of booze and entertainment in the form of traveling to places like NYC and Boston.  Well, as she's continued to abandon me for a different state entirely (see previous posts), she one day woke up and realized how much she missed being around such an awesome roommate and decided we needed to have a night, but something that wouldn't cost too much, and that we wouldn't have to travel far.  

Solution: a night devoted to visiting the local bars in a consecutive fashion in order to further acclimate ourselves to the town we've lived in since last October.  Or as we so eloquently called it... a townie bar crawl.  

Since all you fans are well-aware that toxic scorpion bowls live but a mere 1 minute walk away from our residence, we figured why not start the night off with a bang (and by bang I mean a bowl....of intoxication), along with some yummy edible options.  It was pretty quiet at the fusion asian cuisine bar, sans a bartender who kept criticizing us for drinking too slowly.  Look, we had to pace ourselves... after what seemed like an inch's worth of drink consumed, we both were already looking at each other saying something along the lines of...

Me: Shit, I am already feeling this.  Like already way past buzzed.  

Ash: Yeah, me too, and we still have so much food to eat.

Me: There's so much drink left.  

Both of us: UGGGGGGHHHHHHH why do we do this to ourselves?!  

Me: Can I have that last scallion pancake?

So finally we both sucked it up, and sucked it down, because once the food was gone, we were pretty antsy to go visit some new places.  

The next bar we went to we've been to on occasion, and they have a lovely deck outside complete with bar, tables, and industrial sized space heaters for your convenience.  It felt good being submerged in a sea of townies, as we gingerly sipped our drinks that had a satisfactory booze-to-mixer ratio.  Some older gentleman asked us something about if we fished...and then it turned into us saving his seat for him...I dunno, I wasn't following the conversation, but once he was back, we moved over to our own space.  I could see in my peripherals there were three guys plotting to come talk to us, and I just wanted to give a shout out to how random and poorly executed their "game" was...

Boy #1 to #2 & #3: (awkwardly loudly) Alright guys, we better get going!!! 

All 3 are saying bye to various surrounding people; they go to walk out, and then one guy turns around last second with the other 2 following and comes up to us...

Boy #2: Hello, ladies.  You guys come here often?

Ash: Eh, yeah, occasionally.  (In reality the last time we were at this particular bar was October.)

Boy #3: Nah, man, if you guys were regulars we woulda seen ya.  Never seen ya before!

I didn't realize townies had such a keen sense of their surroundings.

Anyway, we chatted with the guys for a while...the leader of the pack was totally jones-ing Ash, and I had to just keep drinking to stop myself from laughing out loud.  I don't think it ever gets old when I hang out with my girlfriends who aren't interested in the male gender get hit on repeatedly.  It generates a rather maniacal laugh that comes from deep within my soul...but I'm not bitter about men, or anything...

So long story short, Ash fbook friend requested the guy, because he was hell-bent on it and convinced if he didn't witness her doing so, she never would.  They asked us what we were doing that night, as in wondering if we wanted to accompany them to some party, but we had bigger and better plans for visiting bars we hadn't yet been to, and then to top it off, a few of Ash's friends were inviting us out to another bar, in a neighboring town.  So we ditched our plans to head down the street, and headed off to Scioli's.

Family friendly by day, buck-wild by night.

Now, I knew of this place, because it's located in a large plaza where it stands adjoined to one of the Planet Fitnesses I go to on occasion.  I figured it was going to be a small bar inside of a pizza bar.  What I didn't realize is we had a club-like atmosphere in our "backyard" that left us continually thinking we were somewhere else, like Worcester, or say like... the Jersey Shore...minus guidos.  As we pulled up around midnight, we noticed a huge crowd of people outside, and although confused as to why so many people were chilling in the parking lot, we walked in with our mission to find Ash's friends.  

But denied we were by a large bouncer named Troy, for the rules were something like after 12am, no one comes in.  Now, that would be understandable if the place was full to capacity--I've been to plenty of bars before where you need to lather yourself up in lube because it'd the only way you're going to get past people.  This was not the case.  The initial bar that we could see, complete with pool tables, was roughly warehouse sized, with lots of empty space.  But people behind us kept coming and being whiney bitches to the bouncers, who were getting irritated and yelling at everyone to get lost.  I pulled Ash back...

Me: Um so, I guess we're not going to get in?

Ash: Trust me, we're getting in.  I can just feel it.  

Little did I know my roomie is a bouncer-whisperer.  I watched as she worked her magic.  We stood quietly off to the side while others harassed the bouncers.  Then, she showered him with a mature friendliness, making him aware we weren't there to give him a hard time, that she knows what it's like to work at a bar, etc.  Key points being you try to connect with these individuals, making them feel empathized and, after being able to talk to them on a first-name-basis, convince said bouncers you are not whiney bitches like all those who preceded you.  I witnessed the change, the twinkle in his eye that let us know yes, we will be let in, but we must be patient and inconspicuous.  We waited about a minute, and thanking Troy, we were in.  

Drinks in hand, we were scoping out the scene for her friends.  Once again we were surprised because as we ventured further back, there was an additional large room complete with bar, dance floor with stage, and screens playing music videos to the music that was blasting.  Eventually we caught up with the friends and let go, dancing to our own beat, as not a lot of people were on the dance floor.  But the crowd grew, and before we knew it, Ash and I were surrounded by men, again.  I don't blame them, we're pretty awesome on the dance floor-- the fact that we can move and her and I seem to channel similar thoughts makes for a good-looking pair of dancers without premeditated choreography.  

So did I mention there was a stage?  Well, I pushed Ash into dancing up there first, because those that we occasionally saw take a whack at it were nothing special, and also I initially wussed out.  She looked great up there, and a few of our guy acquaintances continued to dance with me and we cheered her on.  Then the dollar bills got busted out.

Bad Decision: Making your roomie get up on a townie-bar dance floor stage.

Better Bad Decision: Throwing $ bills at her, encouraging others to do the same.

Well in reality, it was one of the guys who started, but she didn't see it, so I grabbed the $2, got her attention, and threw them right at her.  I'm proud to say she made a whopping $5 that night.  

So I got up on stage eventually, and we had a ton of fun dancing over men and dancing with other girls up on our platform.  Even our guy friends jumped up at one point.  I thought Ash was making out with a Latino man at one point, but further clarification revealed he was the one trying to kiss her neck, she was not giving him the light of day.  Make yourself wanted, yet untouchable...well done.  Then the lights came on-- time to go!  We made it all the way to the door and then Ash turns around...

Ash: Fuck.  My keys.  I lost them.

Me: Well, you had them when we came in, they are bound to be in this building.  

So we searched high and low in the dance arena, but to no avail.  At this point I got paranoid that someone stole them, and kept insisting we go out to her car to make sure it was even there.  But we spotted Troy, our lovely bouncer friend, and let him know we couldn't find her keys, so he helped look.  I mean we searched for a good 10 minutes or so, and then when we thought all hope was gone, a magical man with a magical pair of car keys strolled right up to Troy saying he had found them.  Overwhelmed with excitement we both hugged our Troy man, and with guys in tow, peaced out in the FJ.

So we thought these dudes wanted to have an after party.  Turns out the house we ended up going to wasn't theirs, but a buddy's, and no one else was really there.  Sketchy?  Yeah.  But they were harmless enough, and Ash needed to pee.  Dude #1 decided to ask me to follow him outside, as Dude #2 waited for Ash, and I knew what I was getting myself into.  I also knew Ash wouldn't leave me unattended for long, especially considering the obvious fact that guys aren't her cup of tea.  So off I meandered with Dude #1 to the backyard.  Yes, you heard me, because that's how it's done in town.

Bad Decision:  Making out with random dude outside in the back of a tailgate.

Better Bad Decision: Not allowing it to go much further than that.  I said much.  

Meanwhile back in the house, Ashly was wondering where I was, after hanging out with Dude #2 for a while and awaiting my return.

Ash: Where's Amanda?

Dude #2: I dunno, they probably went out for a walk.  You want a tour of the place?

Ash: Hmm, yeah, sure, that's cool.  

(after many minutes pass)

Ash: No seriously, where's Amanda?

Dude #2: She's probably already on "the tour".

Ash: (thinking) I suddenly don't want to be on the tour, anymore.

Eventually my paranoia sunk in, as I kept hearing Ash's voice, so I said it was time to go.  We dropped the guys off at yet another location, and finally headed home.  We decided at 3am as we went to bed that we were much better off spooning in bed with Royce in the middle.  And even though we only had a scorpion bowl between us plus an additional one or two drinks over the course of the rest of the night,  I got a nice crash course in re-learning what a true hangover feels like.  Ugh.  

Life Lesson: It's important to be aware of your surroundings.  

Otherwise, being in the backyard in flip flops leads to poison ivy on your foot.   

Please excuse the pedicure.

Hey, it's important to be an active member of your community.

LSLP, Amanda xo

3rd times the charm.

One of my best friends, Anna, had a birthday recently. But she didn't have just one birthday celebration, she had three. The first of which was the day I returned from NYC last week. I had been so proud of myself for pulling it together on that extra day I stayed in the city, getting a solid nights rest, and being at the top of my game for work the next day. But then a birthday dinner turned into a birthday fire circle (don't ask), which then turned into birthday scorpion bowls in Boston, which then turned into me going to bed at 2am and waking up hungover for work the next day. Sigh. Points for intention?
The second birthday celebration was a bonfire where we drank first Champagne, then Bloody Mary's (who the hell has these at night?), and then some fruit juicy vodka concoction. Despite the random mixing of beverages (when will I learn this is a Bad Decision?) we woke up the next morning ready for round 3.

The Liquor Store.

No, not the kind you walk into with money and walk out of with a brown paper bag of joy. The kind that is actually a club in Boston that they have cleverly named so that every time you tell someone where you are going ("Oh, I'm gong to The Liquor Store tonight. Want to come?") you sound sad, pathetic, and strongly alcoholic. Then there is a 10 minute explanation that this is actually a club/bar and you are not merely going to browse the aisles of booze, drooling, for your evening's activity.
The main pull of Liquor Store is a mechanical bull. They pride themselves on being the only bar in Boston to have one, and I pride myself on being able to beat it on the rare occasion I go there. I have literally had the operator guy throw his hands up and let me just dismount the thing. You ride crazy horses for 16 years, you can stay on a fake bull being moved in circles. It usually takes the operators about 90 seconds to realize that I'm not remotely trying to look sexy, but instead that I have determination in my eyes and a death grip on the rope handle. Then they turn it up.

I was pretty excited for a go at the bull, but sadly didn't get my chance due to the fact that I got bucked off something else earlier in the day and busted my back. No, not a horse...I wiped out on my motorcycle dirt biking through the woods behind the barn. Miraculously I  didn't injury myself on the actual wipe out (OK, so it was more of a slow motion tip over), but instead I hyper extended basically every muscle in my body trying to lift the damn thing back up once it had tipped over.

Bad Decision:  Trying relentlessly to lift your 375lb motorcycle by yourself when you are a 115lb girl.
Better Bad Decision:  Not attempting to tie your nearby horse to the motorcycle to see if he can pull it up plow horse style (because the thought definitely crosses your mind).

So instead I was relegated to the sidelines to observe others getting chucked and embarrassed one after another. You would not believe the number of girls wearing dresses and skirts that rode this thing. Now, if you are going out for the night to a bar that has a mechanical bull and you think, "hmm, maybe I might want to ride that tonight", wouldn't you consider the idea of putting on pants? Apparently not. You could actually see the moment of realization on some of the girls' faces as they mounted the bull and then thought, "wait...I didn't think this through..." Got to appreciate the variety of underwear though.

Due to an abnormal amount of energy, I agreed to follow up the Liquor Store experience with an after party at Anna's friend's house. What I didn't know at first was that these guys lived in Roxbury. I'm sure Roxbury is normally a great place, but there were a few concerns here:
1)  The last time I went to Roxbury I got barricaded in a parking lot by a man with a gun.
2)  I am wearing top siders, blue khaki's, a tucked in shirt, and pearls. (Are there yachts in Roxbury?)
3)  Am I too sober for this?
But it was Anna's birthday (for the 3rd time), and I really can't say no to an after party. My memories of gun man spun in my head as I parked my car and we approached the apartment, but upon entering I was greeted by a wiggling pit bull licking the air excitedly in the hopes a face would come within reach to kiss. I immediately felt comfortable (perhaps not the normal response, but definitely the right one).

If I ever seem concerned, please place an animal within my reach.

I spent the rest of the night petting that dog and observing with amusement as one of the (wasted) guys tried to repeatedly hit on me by saying, "Ashly, Ashly, Ashly," shaking his head and then going, "Hey, hey, what your name?"  His approach may not have been the smoothest ever, but I will give him points for persistence. And points for being so drunk that it was amusing and hysterical instead of irritating. So I sat on the couch with a pit bull in my lap as the guys rapped to a boom box and passed some tiny plant around.

Life Lesson: Something stereotypical will most likely happen every time you go to Roxbury.

I'll go get my grilllll.

-LSLP, Ash.

Not all sterotypes are true.

Hate the deed, not the breed.

8 legged fury.

Recently there has been an influx of spider activity in my house. I don't know where they are coming from, or how they are getting in, but I am positive they are plotting my death. I can tell because I see them curled into little balls in corners I can't reach, and then... BAM. They are all sprawled out in the middle of a wall or ceiling, pulling the trigger on whatever they've been planning, being all, "THE TIME IS NOW, MOTHER FUCKER." and getting ready to spring at my face. OK, so maybe none have actually leaped at me, but that doesn't mean they won't. These spiders are horrifying in appearance as well. They are all light tan colored with these long ass legs that make me feel itchy when I see them.
They look like this:

Once you're asleep, I'm going to walk on your nose.

Do you even have any idea how hard it was for me to Google image search for that? I'm having PTSD tremors right now. ...I feel like they are on me.....Is there one on me? ARE THERE SPIDERS ON ME?!?!

OK, sorry. Lost it a little right there.

When I encounter one of these little beasts, the usual protocol is as follows:

          1) See spider.

          2) Turn head, pretending you didn't see spider.

          3)  Look back at spider verrrrry slowly. Yeah, no, he's definitely still there.

          4) Shiver and run out of room.

          5) Find Amanda.

          6) Beg her to get the spider for you by hopping from one foot to the other going, "spiderr, spiderrr, spiderrrrr"

          7)  Scream as Amanda kills spider.

          8)  Shake entire body uncontrollably. (I want you to picture a wet dog shaking here)

Bad Decision:  Engaging in multiple life endangering activities on a daily basis, such as riding a motorcycle, and jumping 4 foot fences on a horse.

Better Bad Decisions:  Not adding Spider-Death-Battles to this list.

The fact that Amanda will generally come to my aid at any moment I find a spider gives her infinity points in my book. (In return I give insects with singers dirty looks when they come near her.) Last night, however, I arrived home to find not one, but TWO spiders having a meeting about my death on my bathroom ceiling. I proceeded with steps 1-4 of the protocol. And then it hit me......

AMANDA IS NOT HOME.

My heart dropped, my pulse raced, I may or may not have broken out in a cold sweat. I grabbed my phone and called her.

          ME: Ummm...Amanda?....um..when do you think you'll be home?

          AMANDA:  I don't know...haven't left yet. Why?

          ME: Uhhh....well..There's..um...TWO SPIDERS IN MY BATHROOM.

          (initial attempts to remain calm failed here.)

          AMANDA:  Oh god. You're fine. Just kill them. You can do it.

          ME: I cannnnn'tttttt. (peer around door frame into bathroom.) Oh god, they're huge.

          AMANDA:  frustrated sigh

          ME:  What can I use to kill them? I have to remain very far away. What can I fashion together?

          AMANDA: Use the swiffer.

My roommate is a genius.

One swiffer wet jet, one paper towel, two pieces of tape:

I will swiff the shit out of you.

With my new power weapon I headed into the bathroom....after I stripped down to my bra and underwear. If those 8 legged wolverines were going to jump at me, I was not going to give them folds of fabric to hide in.

I did not think to take pictures of the rest of the battle because, well, you know, the HORROR. But here is a dramatic re-enactment:

This is our ceiling now. We be chillin. Get lost human, we are trying to plan your demise.

What? I don't even see you. No that's not a swiffer weapon behind my back.

I tentatively lifted the swiffer, aligned it with the first spider, and smacked the ceiling with it. First spider down.

But now the second one knows what's up.

He moves an inch.

I scream.

"MAN UP, ASHLY" I yell at myself, and smack the ceiling with the swiffer weapon again. Second spider down. Oh my god. It's over. I did it. I DID IT.

.....

It's not over. Their bodies are still on the floor....

That's what you get for killing us, you murderer.

I look frantically around for something I can use to pick them up with that won't require me to feel them through cloth. A box of light bulbs on my dresser agrees to sacrifice part of itself for the greater good.

You're worth 300 watts to me, light bulbs.

I attempt to scoop up the first spider with my cardboard shovels, but I end up screaming once or twice and throwing everything I'm holding to the ground. Eventually I am able to pull it together enough to scoop him up by repeating to myself, "it's just a piece of dust, it's just a piece of dust." Then I go for the second one. The second I touch him with my cardboard he moves. IT'S STILL ALIVE. I grab the swiffer and smack the floor a dozen times like a maniac.

That one's the faker.

Finally the ordeal is over. 10 minutes of panic, 10 minutes of swiffer prep, 10 minutes of hyping myself up, and 30 minutes of battle. One hour. 2 spiders. Me.

I have won.

....And then I found two more in the laundry room. Luckily Amanda had just arrived home.

Life Lesson:  They never stop coming.

Is it on me?

-LSLP, Ash.

i live like a peasant.

This is the conclusion I have come to after my most recent long weekend in NYC, where I lived like a total baller for 4 days. One of my good friends, Tana, who lives in Saudi Arabia, was in New York for a few weeks, and it just happened to be her birthday this past weekend. When she left the country after college, this girl gave me both my horses (also known as my entire life), a fab TV, my father a Porsche SUV for a great deal, and half the furniture I had in my old apartment. There was no way I was not going to go see her for her birthday. So back to NYC I went...

Now Tana knows how to roll right. Upon arrival, I met her at the Ritz-Carlton where she brought me upstairs to the Presidential Suite we would be staying in. It was bigger than the first floor of my house.

Shall we have a dinner party? Because we could.

There was a dining room, a living room, an office area, 2 bedrooms, and 2 and a half baths. And, clearly, champagne in the fridge. I thought only Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman stayed in these. Am I a hooker? Is there a middle aged business man hiding in here somewhere? While I gawked at the suite like some commoner, Tana waited patiently for me to return to reality.

Come. Sit on the couch. Or the chair. Or that other chair. Or that one over there.

A shout out to Tana and her family here for treating me to more dinners and drinks than any one person should ever be treated to. Yum.

Friday night Julia met up with us and I took the two of them to a bar I liked that I had been to once before (Yes, I have been in this city enough times now that I am actually recommending bars to people that live here). We walked in, and in less that 5 minutes the only lesbian in the bar came over and I got her to buy me a drink. Why can't this happen every time I walk into a straight bar? This would totally eliminate the homo guilt I struggle with. Not that I was remotely interested in this girl, but somehow I felt significantly less guilty accepting a drink from her. Let's not spend time analyzing that.

I felt so overly confident from the drink experience, that I somehow convinced my two straight friends that we should absolutely go to to a gay bar next. I'm not big on celebrity sightings. They are normal people. If I met one I would probably just be like, "hey, what's up?", give them the head nod, and continue on my way (possibly secretly hoping they would be intrigued by my aloofness and call after me). But when we spotted a group of girls clustered around someone, and I glanced over my shoulder and saw it was Finn from Glee, I forgot my "play it cool" approach and turned into a teenage paparazzi. I yelled, "AHH! FINN!", and whipped out my phone, frantically pressing the camera button while it refused to cooperate with me. I didn't end up getting a picture in time, but spent the rest of the weekend in an I-Saw-A-Glee-Cast-Member high. Also fitting, is that this was on the way to a gay bar- Glee gets associated with the gays even when it doesn't want to be. My father's response to me telling him this story was even, "Don't a lot of gay people like that show?" How hip of you Padre.

We finally arrive at the gay bar, and the bouncer is a super butchy lesbian who hands us a pink and leopard printed business card and tells us to come back next weekend for her birthday. Which is Sex and the City themed. I had to just stand there for a minute smiling like a weirdo at her waiting for her to appreciate the irony with me. I'm not sure she ever did.

Later that night after arriving back at the hotel we ordered Mac & Cheese from the room service menu. The formally dressed server entered the room with the fancy table containing our mac and cheese served on silver platters and I remember thinking, "Don't look drunk. Pull it together. You're at the Ritz. This is classy time. Shit, you are in your PJ pants. That's OK, you can pull off classy plaid flannel." But I mean really, I was receiving Mac & Cheese from room service at 4am. The only option for this is drunk.

I LOVE YOU ELBOW NOODLES!

Saturday was Tana's birthday, and to celebrate we went to "The Box". A little background on this: it is a common perception of those who are only vaguely familiar with this establishment, that it features a live sex show. This is not true, but will defiantly prepare you for what you will witness there. I encourage viewing the website, as it gives you the general feel of the club. Very old school, glamorous, theater type place that is black tie optional, and I can best describe as a Burlesque-Variety Show-Circus-Strip Club hybrid. It was unlike anything I have ever experienced, and not remotely comparable to anything in Boston. One of my top 5 favorite places I've been to, hands down. (No it's not because of the strip club factor, you pervert) (OK, that might've helped.) 

Some examples of performances perhaps?

Woman in cooking apron meanders around a man tied to a chair. She takes off her thong and shoves it in his mouth. She then pulls a cake out of a fake oven, places it on a table, and smashes it with a hammer. Cake splatters everywhere. She kicks him over in his chair. He somehow does not crack his head open. She whips the apron off and walks around the stage butt ass naked. She sits on him as he lays on his back still tied to the chair. The curtains close.

Totally normal thing to watch as you drink a vodka cocktail, right? Ummmm.....

One of those circus hoops hangs down from the ceiling. A girl performs extreme acrobatics on it...you know the kind....hanging from her ankles, spinning in circles, pulling herself into the hoop and spinning through it to hang back down. She is also completely naked.

Have another vodka cocktail. This is the kind of entertainment you wish was in every club. Everyone else in the place thinks it too, don't worry.

Break dancers come out and rock the stage for a bit. No nudity here.

I knew something normal would happen eventually. Short lived though.

A fairly elderly male member of the audience is brought on stage to be "saved." Which apparently means given a lap dance by four women in bras and thongs dressed as nuns. At one point they are all sitting on him while he's laying on his back. He miraculously does not have a heart attack.

None of these nude performances were done with the intention of arousing the audience though. It was all very artsy with the intention to shock and surprise. I loved it. A handful of other similar performances occurred, and in between there was amazing music and the stage turned into a dance floor for the audience. In honor of Tana's birthday we had a private table with bottle service, which going forward is the only way I want to experience clubs. I just can't go back to standing around and walking back and forth to the bar. I've been spoiled.

I've also been spoiled to taxi's. Instead of taking one of those yellow death machines to the club, we took the Ritz-Carlton's black Cadillac Escalade. The driver put up with us smoking in the car, and blasted music louder than even I do. To summarize, I spent my entire weekend feeling like I was filming a rap video.

The night winded down, Tana got a backstage tour, I held my friend's hair while she was sick, and by the time we made it back to the hotel it was 6:30am and the sun was out. I woke up in the morning feeling like half a human. I had a 4.5 hour commute ahead of me back home, and the thought of doing it made me want to die.

Bad Decision: Requesting Monday off work at noon on Sunday.

Better Bad Decision: Texting your boss when he's drunk at a baseball game to make this request.

I am lucky enough to have a boss that is understanding of hungover pain and flexible with my time off work (Thankssss Dannnn). So I remained in NYC an extra day, ate some more amazing food, walked 40 blocks to the point where I got shin splints and cramps in my calves (I'm so in shape), and got a solid night's rest before heading back to the burbs. But don't worry, I'll be back for you soon new york...

Life Lesson: Just because there are nude people on a stage, does not mean you are at a strip club.

Don't make it rain.

-LSLP, Ash.