I found a new allergy

Or at least I hope that's what it is, because the alternative is that I'm developing a rash for no reason. I'm gonna go ahead and assume that the dry dark spots I have on the back of my neck and right below my collarbone are because of the velour strap I added to one of my shirts rubbing all night while I was in Reno, already dry as a bone. Yeah. It's got to be that, right?



Ewwww. I probably shouldn't have typed in "rash" on google images. This was one of the better ones.

apparently they haven't been to new brunswick

I'm tired. So I'm hoping these pictures speak for themselves. Don't be fooled though, Reno is not all fun and games. Let me just say, if I had a dollar for every overweight hooker I saw there, I would not have left $100 in the hole.




Every time I take out the camera, I always end up with a picture like this.




In the bathroom at the Circus Circus...




...again




Janessa was angry to be left out of this one. Is it any wonder people think we're bitches?




These are both $100 chips. What else are you gonna do with them?





Janessa in eager anticipation of Baxter's birthday present



In the throes of ecstasy at the prospect of making her very own animal cookies. Which, by the way, were promised but not delivered. I want that elephant, baby.




We were in the middle of the street for at least 20 minutes, much to the dismay of the guys we were with.




I look insane.




Janessa and Baxter...double trouble.




Baxter and Baxter again.




I think this was when we began to hear the steady whine of Brian complaining that we were taking forever under that sign...




We really shouldn't be allowed in gift shops.




See what I mean? Unfortunately, the angle neglects to show the red third of the hat. I'm regretting not taking a picture with the homosexual cat who was a self-proclaimed shopaholic.




Hector discovered these fantastic cups that you could etch things into, providing us with hours of fun whilst drinking, and a truce at last between me and Anthony when we finally figured out a way we could both be Baxters.




Baxter wasn't too good to get in the street with us




and neither was this random girl we pulled in while she was walking by




I'm shocked none of us were hit by a car




This is actually quite a dangerous situation...




Uhh...




Take 2




She brought it upon herself




Look at Janelle's hair as it blows in the artificial wind




The last thing Reno saw as Brian drove off into the sunset...

free association

smoke, alcohol, dehydration, roulette, fat, spandex, buffets, turkey, white trash, wet spots, skippy, parchment skin, blinking lights, sore throats, vomit, constipation/ibs, cheese and triscuits, stephen, coltraine, prescott, choking.

More on Reno to follow.

eeeaaaaaaghhhhh...

There's no reason to be hungover on a Wednesday morning. And yet, here we are. Really, body? Really, we're going to puke at 7AM after just two beers and a shot the night before?

I'm disgusted with myself.



My dinner last night.

yes

I drank this weekend. And yes, that went directly against my vows. But really, is this a surprise to anyone? I think the only surprise was that after eating only three quesadillas all day and consuming twice my weight in alcohol I was still able to stand at the end of the night. Barely. I learned the next day that I had done some unsavory things but since this too is not far from the norm I'm pretty ok with it. When I woke up I was a little dismayed to find that some people are too good to take advantage of a drunk girl (or is it that some drunk girls are too passed out to be taken advantage of? nonsense!) but other than that I consider myself lucky to have woken up in my own bed rather than on the corner of wolfe and kifer like has been known to happen in the past. I firmly believe I was still drunk when I woke up at 7AM Saturday morning because I for some reason had boundless energy and not a trace of dizziness as I was leaping around my room. However, such was not the case when I again woke up at ten with a splitting headache and the spins.

I started feeling grumpy in the car on the way to the flea market and insisted on eating pizza, but since the flea market waits for no one, we decided to go there first in case all the treasures were packed up by the time we got there. Hector had the brilliant idea to get a Happy Meal to tide us over before pizza time, and like its name suggests, I instantly became happy as I shoved a cheeseburger/fry combo into my greedy fat face. All traces of hangover were magically removed, and I approached the array of socks and chirping plastic birds with a new outlook on life. The only downside of McDonalds is its immediate and almost alarming passing through my system, but thank god the bathrooms at the Capitol flea market are not as bad as you might think.

I would say we stayed for less than an hour, which you would think would mean that we would save the pizza for another day since we had just consumed a meal designed to fill up a child, but you would be wrong. We drove straight to House of Pizza and ordered enough food to satisfy a family of four, and despite my feeling sick after two squares, I powered through and ate a good portion of my half of the pizza. It was glorious.

Saturday night we went to Taste (formerly the Blue Tattoo, for those of you not in the know) and after the ridiculous amount of confusion to get in, involving numerous lines/clipboards/thick-necked bouncers/cheesy admissions tickets, we were led to the "VIP" section of the club which consisted of four cube chairs and a table. Ahem. Luckily, there was plenty of eye candy to entertain us to make up for the lack of quality music and alcohol. It was hilarious watching the guys attempt not to stare as the local fauna pranced by wearing little more than g-strings and band-aids. Combine desperate flashy females with leering greasy males and you get a disaster in the making, or as I like to call it, pure entertainment. The night ended as expected, with jealousy and furious making out. Good times! Taste, I will never be going back.

I'm teething.

I thought I had all my wisdom teeth grown in. Until this morning. I don't want to alarm anyone, but there seems to be a tooth growing in behind my wisdom tooth on the lower right side of my mouth (tooth number 32, for all you aspiring dental assistants out there). Now I'm not sure if this is just a previously submerged part of the wisdom tooth that's now rising to the surface, or if I am in fact a member of a highly evolved human strain and this extra tooth is somehow connected to my ability to read minds and perform complicated mathematical processes. I'm afraid to touch it in case it unleashes the armageddon on you poor unsuspecting mortals. For right now, I will just cautiously chew on the left side and hope that I don't have to be fed to a snake like the bunnies in my 10th grade science class whose teeth were in danger of growing through their heads.

sleeeepies...

Man, this not drinking is not as fun as drinking. But this weekend I did better than last weekend on my third week of vowing to stay dry till Janessa's birthday. Shots/alcoholic beverages consumed last weekend: 12. Shots/alcoholic beverages consumed this weekend: 0. Aaaggg. Let me tell you, it is hard to continue drinking water when everyone else is not. But the lack of panic while driving home and focusing all my efforts on not running into the guardrails was a little nice. Only two weeks to go, and I'm trying to calm my aching liver, because at this point I think it needs alcohol to live.

Also, world beware because after watching three soccer games this weekend played by boys ten and under, I may be in danger of wanting to procreate. They were so adorable the way they hugged each other and were so happy after one of them would score. I lost my voice screaming for Andrew's team and actually got so into the game as to threaten the lives of the other team's players. Oh no, I'm not above making fun of/ doing bodily harm to a child.

I'm bored right now, but this helped a little.

high on power.

I know I have officially been a property manager in name for at least 6 months now, but until today I haven't really felt I deserved this title. More like it was bestowed upon me much like "slut" and "bitch" kind of worked their way into my classification by others. I have no control over this and therefore I take no responsibility for any of it and neither confirm nor deny their accuracy.

Today, I got a call from a tenant in one of our buildings bitching about the dirty windows at the property. I promptly forwarded the message on to my boss, who usually handles this kind of stuff. Much to my surprise and dismay, he asked ME to look into finding a quality window washing service. My first instinct was to run over to the Home Depot and contract out some cheap Mexican labor using my fluent high school Spanish, but oh no, my boss wanted them to be licensed. Shit. I scoured Craigslist and came up with four possible contractors and with a nice flick of the wrist, deposited this carefully laid out list on the cluttered desk of my boss. Then I pranced back to my desk and prayed he would leave me alone. But that was not to be. He actually had the nerve to ask me to call these companies up and "use my judgment" as to who might be a good fit. Now mind you, I have not once been to this new building they purchased, and only had a vague idea as to the specs that any decent contractor might want to know. I told you, the title of property manager is complete and utter fluff, since I have yet to manage anything and actually know nothing about the property I am supposedly overseeing. I didn't even know how many stories it was. I normally don't mind looking like an idiot but let me tell you, there is not much I have experienced that is more excruciating than attempting to get a professional estimate for window washing at a building you didn't even know had windows.

However, after a couple of warm up calls, I started to learn the info I was lacking, and began to get the hang of this whole management business. I started sounding more professional -- and dare I say sexy? -- on what we expected and even started trying to bargain with these people. The result is that I am getting 5 estimates on service to a 30-thousand square foot building, and I now know a little more about the property I manage. I've even seen pictures of it.

So why am I high on power? Because late this afternoon as the return calls started coming in, I noticed that people began competing for my business. Competing for me! Now what's better than grown men fighting over the chance to labor for me, I ask you? Ok maybe it's not that extreme but nothing can knock me off this high horse for the time being.