In my daily life, I try to find the stuff that would be easy to blog about. Sometimes it's difficult, but if you use your imagination, things just seem to pop out at you. Or, as in the case of these next two blogs, so much stuff is thrown at you that you don't know what to make of it, and all you can do is sit back and say, WTF. So sit back, and prepare to be amazed. And for those who do finish both, this blog is private only to my preferred list. There's about ten people. So no worries, everyone is still protected.
Last night was Luke Steiner's wedding. We were high school classmmates and so the whole crew was going. I picked up Troy, Christa, Jon, and Tom from the bar. I'm getting more and more bitter the closer it gets to my birthday. But whatever. At this wedding, I would have had a LOT of people to bootleg for me. But since I was the sober cab, I kept things to a minimum. This minimum did include taking a pull from a friend's flask...right in front of the guy filming the wedding. That's gonna be precious in 20 years. This minimum also included a very dear friend of mine, who shall remain nameless, randomly buying me a shot of tequila and demanding I take it. She's going to remain nameless, mainly because she said if my mother ever finds out, she will not hesitate to kill me. Frightening, yet effective. Although really, she would have to beat my mother to it, because my mom would kill me too. Ha.
It was sort of like a class reunion. Nearly everybody I went to high school with was there. Which was nice, because while my friends went to the bar, I could always find someone I knew. And, you know, people I didn't know. Like this guy I ended up dancing with. He was nice, a football player from DSU. He must have thought I had sweet moves. Or maybe he just got the "this will be a hilarious story later" feeling that I am really good at giving people.
Christa was friendly too. She was talking to all kinds of parents. And you know, making sure they could hear her by shouting at them. She had one set of parents engrossed for so long that Jon took matters into his own hands. Recruiting some guy I didn't know by sheer force, and Tom and Ryan by claiming there was a "mission to be fulfilled", they picked up Christa IN her chair, Jewish chair dance style, and carried her off to the dance floor...while I shouted Mazeltov! for good measure. For those of you who doubt, I actually have a video of this little escapade.
After sufficiently embarrassing my best friend at the expense of Judaism, we concluded that clearly all that was left to do was call Allison from the less crowded pool room. And of course, some members of our crew got a little antsy. In literally 10 seconds, the pool room was destroyed. Tables and chairs were overturned, a Christmas tree was on its side, and a pair of blue underwear lay on the floor. I can say with about 75% confidence that the underwear was not my friends'. While Christa chatted to Allison, I tried putting the room back together. It was precisely then that she had her brilliant idea. Without saying goodbye, she heaved her phone over the side of the balcony. "I wanted to see if it would break." Oh. "Lindsey, you go pick up Allison and make sure she survived that fall."
The night continued similarly. Soon the dance came to an end and we needed to make post-dance plans. Christa had again thrown her cell phone, and now nobody knew where it was. Out of nowhere appeared this Scottish guy complete with thick accent. He had tried to help us look for the phone. Eventually I found it, and Scot-Boy decided to thank me "the proper Scottish way" -- by kissing me. Now imagine the expression on my face. I got kissed by a guy whose name I didn't know. That usually only happens in movies or when you're too drunk to care. I was neither of these.
So I recover (because, you know, maybe they really do that in Scotland. I wouldn't know) and Christa and I head to the cars. I find out three things about Scot-Boy: 1) His name is Euan 2) he works on the oil rigs 3) he has decided to come to the after-party even though he knows no one. Finding it is also an ordeal. No one has a concrete address and I'm cranky because I kind of just wanted to go to bed. In this search, I learn 3 more things about Euan: 1) His mom is a midwife and his dad is a paramedic, 2) he likes the way swear words sound in my accent, and 3) it is his goal for the night to sleep with me.
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