Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off... among other things

It was the summer after Freshman year in college. There was a party everyone was talking about that some friends were having at there apartment.  The rules were simple, only tequila was to be drank.  At the time, I didn't have much experience with the effects of this alcohol but what can I say, it was freshman year of college... Peer pressure will getcha. 

We get to the crowded party to find bottles of tequila (I'm sure it was the cheapest option possible) lined up on the bar with limes slices ready to go.  Everyone is showing off these dashes on there forearm and are obviously pretty drunk.  Well, they take me to the bar and I discover that all these dashes I see are sharpie marks to keep track of how many shots they have taken.  I take my first shot and get my dash... on my chest for some reason.  Let me clarify,  my upper chest.  I remember the music was loud, people were dancing and having a good time, I had a big crush on one of the guys that was there, and 2 of my friends got crapped on by a bird. Right on the head, both of them.  That's completely beside the point, but a funny side note. 

After that, things are a bit foggy.  Appppparently I had 13 dashes across my chest. I'm a large girl, and it was off season from basketball, so my tolerance was probably pretty good... but 13 shots in probably an hour and a half is enough to make crazy things happen.  So i'm sick... my best friend (who didn't drink at the time) takes me into the bathroom, I puke... a lot.  Then I decide I want to take a shower, because that's what always makes me feel better. 

*** UPDATE ***

It has been brought to my attention i have left out an important detail about why i showered. I was peed on... how i forgot this im not sure. I was directed to the bed so I would pass out and my friends could party on and my crush was in the same situation and was placed on the bed as well. He peed on me. How romantic, I know. Soooo that's when I showered, after throwing up and being urinated on.

It wasn't her house, but she didn't stop me.  She gets me a towel when I get out.  What a good friend right? A cute little blues clues towel.  She then proceeds to let me out of the room.  Mascara running down my face, sopping wet, in a blues clues towel I start going through the party rounding up my gang to go home.  It was maybe midnight... the party was definitely not over, but we were heading out... thanks to me.

My sober driver had a explorer, one without backdoors/windows.  For whatever reason, I got in the back. We roll up to the main red light on campus and I had to puke again.  I tell the driver, and have to lean up and throw up out her window.  Of course I lose my towel while I'm hanging all the way out the front window... on the middle of campus... puking out a car window.

*Before any of you start judging me... Let me just say that this is the only night I have ever not remembered a big part of it.

So my friend gets me to my apartment.  I shared an apartment with a teammate and some random girl. Then I decide want to get in the bath now, again... Im soaking and she assumes that it was safe for her to crawl in my bed and I would be in shortly.  Wrong.  She said she woke up the next morning and freaked out when she realized I never came to bed.  She jumped out of bed to find me and apparently woke up me because all I know is I woke up in my bath robe, on my couch in the living room, with a girl I didn't know.  Heads on the same end of the couch and everything.  There was a solid 3 seconds of us just staring at each other before I half awake said 'Um who are you?', and got the response of...'who the hell are you?'

Apparently my random roommate had 3 friends in town.  There was a couple that was sleeping on the living room floor that I had tried to crawl in between, and I guess they told me I couldn't sleep with them... so I crawled on my couch. With a stranger.  Why I didn't just go to my own bedroom I'll never know....

Needless to say, when the song 'Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off' came out... it had a wholllle different meaning to me...

The Men Who Love Me

After the last post about dating I started thinking. 63.7% of the time, there are 2 types of men I tend to attract.  Old white perverts and large black men.  Other women will probably say they feel the same way, but let me give you a couple of examples.

The Wheelchair Whisperer.

I work face to face with a lot of senior citizens and I happen to love it.  Most are just adorable and harmless and even if they do say something out of line, it's easy to disregard as 'ahh they are just old.'  Then there is the wheelchair whisperer.  Picture a slumped over santa clause (but not as jolly, and not quite as old) wheeling himself into our office.  He never comes to my check in, but goes to the one next to me.  As my coworker gets up to retrieve his chart, he usually sneaks in a 'ahhh so beautiful' or a 'omg, so hot' under his breath while I feel him stare at me.  Then when she comes back he's quite.  he always digs through her candy bowl and then wheels himself in front of me to dig through my candy bowl.  The whispers pick back up.  'so sexy.'  'uhhhhhhh' 'gorgeouuusss'.  The catch... NO ONE ELSE HEARS IT.  It pisses me off beyond believe, and I think he's extremely disrespectful.  I'm right here, quit acting like I'm not you old fart.  I left off the fact that his wife is with him sometimes but is always parking the car while he is checking in.  My coworkers might possibly think im crazy, but now when I see him coming I either get up and leave, or call my ex-NFL playing boss to come stand behind me until he's gone.  I can't bring myself to file a formal complaint against him because realistically he is just complimenting me.  In the creepiest way possible. 

My poet stalker.

Once upon a time I had a stalker. Kinda...actually just an extremely strange situation on my hands.  I was sitting in Coach Freemans history class when I got a letter addressed to me that was sent to the high school.  I opened it,  a card and some papers.  I read on,  Dear Kristen,  I saw you play basketball and I think you're very pretty.  I want you to read these and I want to talk about it in person.  Signed, Jamal Smith. I dont remember his name... (but if you lived in UTC Place 3336, Jamal will give a paint a perfect picture.)  The papers were copies of this guys work. Apparently he was a published poet. His picture was there and everything, just a large black man with a fro. One of his poems was included,  the rest was an article talking about 'out of body experiences' and really really strange stuff.  He had written in the white space beside the articles talking about how he really thinks he could get through to me, and other reallllly creepy stuff.  Then, still semi-laughing, I took it to my teacher who said hmm maybe you should take it to the principals office to the SRO officer.  They were a lot more concerned with it than I was... until the police report came back.  Apparently the guy lived in Franklin Co (we had just had an away game there) and has a police record and gets in trouble with the law frequently.  Typically neighbor complaints, and small stuff. But it was enough for them to give me the make and model of his car and other special instructions.  As a Junior in highschool, I was horrified.

Big Mississippi.

One night out in Chattanooga, my girlfriend was at the bar getting a drink when an older short man struck up a convo.  They were just giggling away leaving me just standing there. Well I guess the gentleman with the short guy noticed this and heads on over.  Small talk continues... he informs me that he is the short Brazilian man's body guard.  I inquired what he does that requires a body guard and was given the response.... he's an entrepreneur.  Yea, ok.  So while my friend is dancing with shorty, apparently he slips a $100 bill and a $20 to her.  Damn it, im stuck playing wingman now.  So after many free drinks, my friend kisses the creepy Brazilian billionaire and big body guard is trying to put moves on me.  Not happenin.  Let me explain why... Big Mississippi gets his name honestly.  Picture a much grosser version of Big from Rob & Big on MTV. He is a 40ish African American, prolly 6'6 and 350 lbs.  acne scars all over his face, and just over all I would describe as not appealing... At all. So the night ends... my friend and his friend exchange numbers. Typically he would never have gotten the time of day, but they were talking trips to here, and trips to there, and free this, and free that.  Poor college kid gets sucked in.  So we agree to go to dinner with them when they were coming back through town a couple of days later.  Horrible idea.  Obviously the old men had expectations, we did not and they were both extremely affectionate.  Especially my friends guy.  We struggle through dinner, stilllll not sure exactly how this guy has so much money or what his 'career' is, and they insist on walking us to our car.  Well my poor girlfriends dude wasn't coming up for air he was so into her, and Big Mississippi kept trying to hold my hand the whole way to the car,  and then hugs me goodbye.  Doesn't let go.  I look up into all those fat rolls on his neck, and then he kissed me.  He had me in a bear hug,  I couldn't budge...  He finally lets go and my friend said my face was one that she'd never seen before and she didn't know if i was goin to cry, punch him, or throw up.  Big Mississippi got my phone number the night before and literally called me everyday for 2 months.  I'm not exaggerating at all.  Voicemails included, and yes.. texts too.  I wont even go into detail on what they said, but at the time I was really worried about having a potential drug lords bodyguard as my 2nd all time stalker. 

The Perverted Pressure Washer

This happened way back when I was very young and impressionable.  I believe I was 18 and at home one summer.  My Dad had hired some guy that some other guy had recommended to pressure wash the house.  Well he was out running errands but had told me he was coming and he may need a ladder or whatever and to just tell him where things were if needed.  My mother had just had ankle surgery and was posted up on the couch.  Well he knocks at the door for the first thing, the ladder.  No prob I directed him to it.  He was a scrawny, maybe 5'8, upper 30s, white guy.  Balding on top, facial hair, and just straight white trash looking.  Well he came back to the door again, and I helped him with whatever insignificant thing it was. This happened like 2 more times.  Stupid stuff that he could have done on his own.  Then he asked me to move the cars in the front so they didn't get sprayed/dirty.  Ok, finally a logical reason to bother me... I move moms,  and get in mine to move...

Our driveway isn't even with our house and part of it sticks out into the side yard.  The side yard faces street and we have neighbors on that side as well.  Well I get in my car, look up, and this disgusting and disturbed man is suddenly 5 feet in front of my car with his penis pulled out peeing.  Looking me dead in the eyes.  OH HELL NO.  I throw it in reverse.  Park it.  And start storming to the front door. He has the nerve to start walking next to me.  I verrryy politely (not) told him to get away from me right now.  I get inside to see my Dad pulling up in the basement drive.  I'm flipping out and just straight pissed that this jerk off had the nerve to just do that to me and could not wait to tell my Father who was supossed to beat up any bad guys for my whole life. Nope, my sweet laid back Dad was just as calm as ever. I mean, I was 100% sure he was going to go rip the guys dick off when I told him what had happened.  My mother and I are just in a tissy, and my Dad just calming sat down, probably popped open a beer, and said well we will never use him again.  I was floored.  It wasn't until a few weeks later, I found out that my Dad had in fact gone out and talked to the guy and it wasn't pretty, but my mom wouldn't tell me what he said.  Whoooo does that?! 

Revisiting these stories, I just cant help but think... It's a sick sick world we live in, full of perverts, creepers and mentally unstable idiots.  But what can you do, life goes on.

My First (and last) Blind Date... What an athlete.

Everyone goes through phases in life.  Last year about this time I went through one where I wanted to date. I had been told, 'Spann you're just too picky,' or "you just never give anyone a chance' one too many times. So, I set out to prove people wrong and decided I was going to accept a date offer from nearly anyone.  About that time someone wanted to set me up with a friend who was super funny, cute, and nice. I was shown a picture, he got my number, text me, asked me to meet him at the YMCA downtown the next evening and then to dinner.

I was actually really excited about this date.  He was really cute from his picture I was shown, was charming and funny in his texts, and the fact that he wanted to go to the gym (he knew i was a D1 basketball player) meant he must be an athlete too.

Date night:

We were supposed to meet at 6:30.  At like 6:15, when I was already on my way he informs me he misjudged traffic and would be a bit late.  I said that's just fine, I will just hop on an elliptical until you get here.  30 minutes later, I'm accidentally a sweaty mess waiting to meet this man for the first time. Great.  Then I see him come in.  Wait, that can't be him... he looks like an adult blonder version of Screech from Saved by the Bell, and he has on... no those can't be, wait.. yep. Swim trunks? and a too tight for his scrawny body T-shirt?  -Ok, dont make eye contact, he's never met you maybe you can run out the back door.  I couldn't do it, so I get off the machine and go to say hello to Dustin Diamond and go in for a hug.  He gives me a side hug... strike #2. Silence.  So i offer going to the basketball courts for a game of horse (we had already discussed playing prior to the date). He said he needs to get warmed up a bit and he would meet me in there.  Ok, sure... As I'm shooting I'm reminding myself, don't be picky... So he's not Brad Pitt, he's got a great sense of humor.  And then it happened... Strike #3. He came in the gym and shot a basketball like a 4th grade girl.  If there is 1 sure fire way to turn me off... it's to shoot a basketball with 2 hands.  It's my passion, my pride, and you sir, are making a fool of the sport. I try to forget the fact that he blamed it on the weights he had just lifted during his warm up. But ok, I'm just going to suck it up.  I can't remember specifics, but I think I beat him in horse and only had a 'H'. If his skills weren't bad enough, he continually was trying to touch me.  You know, like subtly touching my arm as he tried to talk to me.  I'm pretty sure the dating for dummies may have left out the fact that you can't do that while playing a sport.  So, i offer to move on to racquetball.... something he claimed to be good at and I have never played before.  I'm not bragging, and maybe I'm a little too competitive and shouldn't have; but I beat him at his own sport. All the while he's still trying to have serious conversation while im focusing on hitting that tiny ball.  I suggest maybe we should move on to dinner, im sure he has more to offer than his athletic ability.

I go to the locker room and throw on a bra, new tshirt, freshen up on the deodorant and leave my yoga pants and shoes on. He wasn't ready, so it sit down.  5 minutes go by... well maybe he showered? 10 minutes go by... is he giving me an easy out?  maybe he left?  and then he came out.  In a 3 piece suit.  Matching hat included.  I say suit loosely because it was like a tacky velour/ velvet material... yes, the hat was too. I would have been happier if he had kept the swim trunks on. Strike #4-8. So, i apologize for not bringing clothing options and we head to our cars.  He then informs me that he needs me to drive because he's still in his 'college car'. I inquire about his age, 29 (strike #9). We head to dinner, my option didn't work out, so he directs me to a 'nice spot' in East Nashville.  We get there and it was actually a bar, and that's 100% ok because I'm in gym clothes and he's in a suit(ish) and i would rather not be seen by anyone I know at this point.  We sit down, he starts talking about this great beer and so when the waitress comes up I order his suggestion.  She asks him what he would like and he looks at her seriously and says 'Oh I don't drink' like it is a horrible thing. Awkward moment #6, and strike #10.

Conversation wasn't horrible.  He lives with his family & has no ambition (strike #11), spoke of the 11 different states he has lived in the past 5 years, and kept commenting on how beautiful my eyes were. I can pretty much talk to anyone if I have to, so besides the awkward 'subtle' touching he continued to do, dinner wasn't miserable. As we are walking back to my car, he informs me that my shoe was untied.  I prop my foot up to tie it on a small ledge, and as I did he leans over and gently rests his head on my shoulder. Top 10 most uncomfortable experiences of my life.  He left his head just laying on my upper back/shoulder while I continued to tie my shoe.  I've never wanted to own velcro shoes more than in that moment. BIG Strike #12. I'm just tired of being polite at this point and just want to get him back to his car. Obviously im being quite on the drive. Then this guy grabbed my hand and proceeds to say, 'Um.. would it be ok if I asked to kiss you?'

Did you just ask permission to ask to kiss me? I just felt really bad for the nerd, and we were at a red light.. so I just leaned over and kissed him. Ha, jusssst kidding. I took my hand back from his, gripped the steering wheel firmly and told him, no i don't kiss on the first date. I dropped him off at his poor clunker of a car, and never heard from him again. 

 += Hopefully, my worst date ever.



I'm not sure how many times he struck out that night, but I sure learned a few lessons from it:

-Don't listen to your friends. If you don't want to go out on a date with someone, DONT
-Stay away from velour suits at all costs.
-Don't ever go on a first, second, or third, date at at gym. Too many possibilities for failure.
-Subtle touches = awkward moments.
-Learn how to ignore your conscious and run when you can.

That was my first and last blind date. 

A Brown Lace Thong and a Breath-Right Strip...

I think my first post was enough self-humiliation for a while, soo I want to share my all-time favorite story and embarrass one of my girlfriends instead...

It was around 11:30 before my 3 girlfriends and I got settled in our hotel right off of Michigan Ave in Chicago.  We debated and then decided to just go out and have a drink or two and have a chill night considering we only had 3 days to cram lots of sightseeing in.  So we take off to just find a bar around the hotel... obviously not knowing where one was, but assuming that we could find one easily.  Not.  30 minutes of wandering around a ghost town (minus the scary homeless men of course) we come across a little Irish pub.  It was dead, but we got a nice little table and ordered a couple of beers.  I still don't understand this part, but 30 minutes later we were surrounded by literally like 10 men.  Mostly old men, but that's not the point. 

The point was, they were funny, friendly, and our glasses were never empty and we were having a great time.  You know chill nights never end up as planned.

So we closed the bar down, got a cab back to the hotel, and decided we needed food to end the night.  When Katie and I left to go on our little food hunt, the other 2 were washing there faces, putting PJ's on, and crawling into bed.  We go to the 7-11 across the street and come home to find them so asleep that they dont even wake up to eat the drunk food.  So Katie and it all, and crawled into bed.

Here's where things get strange.  6:45 am Suzanne bursts through the hotel door, I pop up in bed and witness her digging through her clutch that's on the ironing board by the door.  Then I notice the man... in a uniform? She looks at him like he was the devil and screams, "Here..." and passes over her drivers license.  Obviously satisfied, he leaves and I immediately question if she's ok and what is going on? She glares at me and says, 'I'm fine.. you f'ing left me at the bar.  Just go back to bed Spann." Ummmm... ok. She was in noooo mood to discuss this, soo I went back to bed.  We wake up the next morning, and I inquired if she remembered the little incident the night before.  Ohhh the light bulb turned on, her eyes got big, and she covered her mouth. 

Apparently, Suz is a surprise sleepwalker... hasn't happened before, but she came to and woke up on floor 14 (we were on floor 16) knocking on a door and hearing a reply of  'Honey, I think you've got the wrong room.'  She had been riding the elevator up and down knocking on random doors.  Once the nice lady snapped her back to reality she realized what was happening and that she had no idea what room we were in.  So, she rode the elevator a bit more (keep in mind it's an elevator with windows), and decided that she was going to have to go to the front desk.  Now I will mention my favorite part...

She was wearing a white tank top, a brown lacey thong, and her breathright strip.

Yep... my friend was roaming around the Inn of Chicago in a thong.  And yes, she did have to go to the front desk at 6:30 in the morning when it was full of business men.  Thinking a bit more clearly now, she got off the elevator, and butt against the wall scooted down the hall, around the corner, and to the side of the front desk.  I can only imagine the shock on the workers face when he saw what was in front of him. He said 'Miss, what do you think you're doing?!?!'  she informed him, very politely im sure, that she was locked out of her room.  He then responds and asks her which room she was in and got a quite obvious, 'Well if I knew what my room number was, dont you think I would be there?!' They figure it out, and hurriedly got her out of the main lobby.  You may be asking yourself this question, but yes still barefoot in her thong and tank... Why they didn't give her something... anything to cover herself with, I'm not sure.  So they accompany her back to the room, and make her get her ID to prove she was really staying in the hotel I guess.  And that brings the story full circle.  My friend probably roamed around the hotel for a solid 30 minutes half naked, with a breathright strip on.  I'm giggling again just thinking about it.

The next night...
We are getting ready to go out, and we're in the lobby... (we liked to hang out there as much as possibly the rest of the trip, just to live up her uncomfortableness) Katie asks one of the security guys if he was working last night.  He smile, looks dead at Suzanne, says yes... and points at her.  He chose his words simply and only said, 'No one believed me...'  the rest of us lost it and needed to know more.  Yes, he was working and yes he told everyone about it that day.  By the grace of God, somehow she wasn't on the video tapes (the more i think about it, the more i think they lied to her), and soon a couple of other workers had approached us saying... 'This is the girl?  That's her?!'

My sweet and appropriate Suzanne...

Barefoot with a brown lacey thong and a breathright strip... geez

I am 24 years old, and on New Years Eve I...

I'm not going to tell you what I did just yet.  But here's the story:

I should have known better than to go to downtown Nashville on New Years Eve, it was sure to be where all the obnoxious tourists would be. But with friend in town on a tight budget we decided that it would be the best option.  We got a game plan, and headed out in my roommates mini van.  Yes, I said mini van. We get to Cadillac Ranch only to discover that the cover charge is more than we had expected.  Already getting annoyed with the number of people walking around on Broadway St and not wanting to discuss going somewhere else, J and I decide to find an ATM.  We find it, and by 'it' I mean the only ATM in downtown Nashville. Stupid. The line was about 25 people long, but we jumped right in... still feeling the excitement of the evening.  15 minutes later, and about 7 people closer to the front of the line, I tell my friend I have to use the restroom. I try the souvenir store next to us... no public restroom.  The kind lady told me to try 2 other places with public restrooms.  I head to the first, an ice cream shop.  The line was literally out the front door just for the restroom... Not going to work.  A slight panic starts to show in my eyes when I realize that this could be a bigger deal than I initially thought. I try the second place, port-a-potties lining the street.  In hind-sight, the lines probably weren't that long, but at the time it seemed like the length of the wall of China.  Think, think, think... ahh my old work was across the street. I run into Big River Grill thinking somehow the familiarity would save me.  Nope, just more lines... at this point I was even looking at the men's line too.  I go back to the ATM to find J at the front of the line.  Cash in hand, I'm seeing a light at the end of the tunnel as we finally shoved our way back to the bar with the stupid high entry fee...  Running now, I head to the back bathroom.  LINES... Shit... then I remember the 'secret bathroom' in the other bar that connects that none of the tourists would know about.

I get there and there were 2 girls in front of me.  The one in the front of the line was a 6' plus-er as well and commented on this fact, I then politely ask if I could go next and explain that I've been trying to find a restroom for a long time.  Hallelujah a stall door opens!!!  And then, in slow motion... that tall bitch goes in it. 

That was it... the flood gates opened and I pissed my pants. By pants I mean my too expensive dress, and brand new shoes. And you know once you reach that point of having the pee sooooo bad, you can't stop it.  A puddle accumulated below me. No one seemed to notice though, so when 3 girls walked in and we moved up in the line I leaned to the one behind me and told her to 'Watch out, there's a puddle over there.'  Probably top 5 most embarrassing moments of my life.  I had to take off my panties, throw them in the corner and cover them with toilet paper.

After I rush out of there, I get back to my friends who laughed for a solid 5 minutes at me and told me I smelled. I make it to the bar desperately wanting to drown the experience I just had, and the countdown starts.  Watching everyone kiss around us, my friend and I shrug and innocently pop kiss.

Yes, I brought in 2011 by pissing my pants and kissing a girl.  I desperately hope that yours was better and that this is no indication how my year is going to go.