tricks and treats

So, I know I promised to write about Halloween earlier in the week, but as everyone knows, I suck at life, and therefor did not.

Halloween was insanity. It was so much fun, mostly because I was with my all my favorite people, and we were all drunk drunk drunk, and I got to second base with a Frenchman.

So, Jeanne came home for the

weekend, and we all got ready at her house and tried to give out candy, although not many children came looking for candy. This was a great disappointment for Jeanne, but the night was a success anyways. Owen parted ways with us from Jeanne's but we all looked fabulous, and it was great to hang out all together.

We went down to the Blue Light, where Precious was just finishing her shift, and got to drinking immediately. Now let me tell you a secret: I make this killer "punch." I don't really make it, since all it contains is Trader Joe's pink lemonade and Sky vodka. The tart taste of the lemons completely cancels out the taste of the vodka, and before you know it, you've had four glasses, and you're completely tanked. Well, this was my treat for Halloween. We polished off almost an entire container of the punch before we even set foot in a bar. If you've read this blog at all, you know that this is a recurring theme, getting too drunk too early, that is.

It was ok though. We had a great time, the bar was packed, and everyone was wearing crazy costumes. Jeanne was a super cute bunny rabbit, Chris (her man) was Dr. McDreamy. Just kidding, he was just an awesome doctor. Precious was a slutty little Cinderella, and I was a butterfly, with pink wings and very little clothing. I swear, there were about 13 different moments where I was sure I would loose a nipple, but I think they stayed in my top for most of the evening.

Obviously, with my tits out and all, I met a "Frenchman," who had a penciled-on mustache and funny hat. He was totally cute, and young (which I've been loving lately) and we called him Pierre. After the longest dry spell I can remember to date, I finally got a little action. Not enough, of course, but some (totally second base. What up.)

I'm so apathetic about random sex these days. It's like, I really want to get some, but I'm so over hooking up with these random guys. I did enough of all that a few years back, and I feel as though I should be getting some consistent dick. The problem is, as it is for almost all other girls, I only want who I can't have. It's like I have a built-in radar and become extremely attracted to only emotionally unavailable and completely self-centered men/boys. What gives? I've totally had boyfriends. In fact, before I moved to San Francisco, I never DIDN'T have a boyfriend. So is it the guys here, or is it just me? FML.

In any event, Halloween was a great success, as was my costume and my public make-out scene. If you need more photos, please, be my guest. That album also contains this past weekend, which I'll get back to momentarily.

Now, I'm sure you're wondering what happened to that old guy. Remember Blue? The older man I met at 15 Romolo who was hitting me up all the time since (see "Sexy Bartenders" post.) Since that night, which was like a month ago now, he has been texting me non stop. It's like, call me on the fucking phone and ask me out to dinner already! He just texts me these flirty little nothings, and I think he's beginning to feel comfortable. As if we know each other, and it's appropriate to make sexy comments through my blackberry! Hi. We don't know each other, buddy. We met and hung out for like an hour when I was tanked and working a Dos Equis promo. You really think I feel close to you? No. I don't. And what's the deal with guys and their texts. Contrary to some people's beliefs, I don't think that you can have a relationship or get to know each other via text messages. You need to at least hang out in public, go on a date, whatever, before you hook up, right? At this point, Blue is SO DONE. After weeks of trying to set up a date or come meet me while I was out, he sent me a totally inappropriate text late on Friday night. It was so bad, I can't even repeat it. Seriously. All I need to say is that it was regarding his penis. 'Nuff said. I let him know that I was so not into his gross banter, and now it's done. Never again.

This totally applies to Pierre as well. He's a little texter also. He called, and tried to arrange dates a few times, and I couldn't do it this week due to my completely booked and important schedule. After I couldn't meet up, I guess he thought I wanted to jump straight to late-night attempts to hook up via text. Absolutely not. You have to take me out if you want to get some. Really, people. Don't get me wrong, I'm totally down with texting. In fact, I'm constantly texting. But during the early stages of a relationship, whatever kind, voice on voice contact is somewhat necessary, and face to face is preferable. So know this, men of San Francisco: I want a fucking phone call with a dinner invitation. If I'm unavailable on the night you choose, try again, Bitch! I swear, these guys need lessons from Le Petit, aka Andy, this guy I dated last year, who took me out to like a dozen really nice dinners and took me and Precious to clubs, etc. I never even put out. Go figure.

Onto the next one...

Owen's birthday was this past week. It's true. Oh, the madness. I love birthdays and I love to celebrate my friends, but to be honest, it only makes me want it to be MY birthday again! I had a fabulous, wild birthday party this past year, and I want to re-live it constantly. We had the party at Charlie's apartment, which is fabulous, and we had a fantastic time. We'll get back to that another time. (Sigh, thinking about my fabulous party...)

For Owen's birthday, I think he usually goes a bit low-key, but I encouraged him to really DO something this year, and do something we did. He invited his friends to get burrittos and martini's at La Cumbre and Martuni's, respectively. La Cumbre is delicious, and Martuni's is this fantastic little gem of a bar right on the corner of Market and Valencia Streets. You walk in, and the array of Tranni's and 3-piece suits is enough material for the rest of the nights' entertainment. On top of all that, they make incredible cocktails. I had 3. Ok, 4. We all had a great time, I spent too much money, and we laughed a lot. Yay!

The night wasn't over, though, oh no. The brave few who continued went on to Aunt Charlie's to dance our asses off to amazing, obscure disco hits. Seriously, best ever. I think I was actually supposed to be my current age in 1981, considering how I feel about disco music, style, and dancing. So I busted a few moves, you know, to show all these sexy men how it's done.

We danced for like 2 hours, continued getting wasted, and I hit on at least 3 blatantly gay men by the time we left. I believe that Owen had a fabulous evening, which was the point, and the rest of us were just lucky enough to be along for the ride...

There was an additional shitshow on Saturday evening involving me alienating yet another bartender, and nearly crossing the line with a not-so-single bartender at Blue Light... Oops. The details of the night are blurry, but there was a lot of laughter, beer pong, a surprise guest appearance from Courney (a fabulous FIDM alum) and we ended up at Ashton's Lombard street apartment around 2:30, followed by pancakes at 4. Jeez. Oh, yeah, I almost forgot, Pierre stopped by Blue Light on Saturday trying to hang out, but I was a drunkface asshole, too busy flirting with the not-single bartender to give him the attention he deserved... He is still trying to make plans with me, but I think he's lost a little enthusiasm based on that episode. Oh, well, you win some, you loose some. In my case, I guess, I loose most and win very few, but I'm holding onto those few for dear life.

I'm leaving for New York on Thursday, for a week, and I'm so excited! I'm not sure whether or not I'll have a chance to blog, but I'll try, god-dammit! And I promise to try to get back to my regular blogging schedule, not just for you, but for me.

Friendship.