This weekend I took a little trip to Asheville, NC for my friend Lauren's bachelorette festivities. I rode up with my dear friend Amanda and part of the conversation we were having during the drive was her asking why I don't blog anymore. I honestly didn't have a good answer - other than I don't have the time, creativity, or attention span to do it. I'm naming this particular blog post "The Rebirth", because I feel like if I liken myself to a rap artist, it may spur me into being able to overcome things like ADD and gun shot wounds that I sustain while frequenting nightclubs.
So this blog is for you, Amanda. May this blog remind you of the time you lived in Mexico and you were so hard up for entertainment that you turned to the interwebs and read about my life.
After running around like a mad woman to get everything together for the trip, I made it up to Huntersville to meet Amanda. We arrived to the house (after a few questionable turns) around 6:45 - we would have walked into the house earlier, but we spent about 15 minutes trying to figure out where to park. Amanda and I were the last to arrive on Friday night and that meant that we were the ones that got the ol' "Not sure where you'll sleep, but there is a pull out couch in the basement!"
To be honest, there was about a 3 minute feeling of dismay, until I walked downstairs. Now, when you are told that you're going to be sleeping in a basement, it could go one of two ways - the basement will either be a dungeon that has no heat and is the breeding ground for wildlife or it is finished and has heat. Thankfully, it was the latter and those suckers managed to accidentally give us the best sleeping spot in the hizzy (although, the pull out couch was pretty much a "v" and I wouldn't recommend sleeping on it unless you are very comfortable snuggling with your sleeping mate).
After popping a few bottles (I had to throw "popping bottles" into this blog, since again...Sarah=Rap Artist), the astrologers arrived. Oh, yes. You read that right...we had astrologers come.
Now let me be clear that I absolutely don't believe that my birth time/date has anything to do with my personality, but it really did feel like a group therapy session. We split up into two groups and Eric spent 30 minutes on each person in our group to discuss the individual challenges we experience being the sign that we are. I really did feel like I could pull something from the stuff he was telling everyone else, so I just chalked the whole thing up to being a super cheap 2 hour therapy session. I did find it comical that I pulled more from the stuff he was telling Amanda than I could pull from what he was telling me. He kept telling me that I needed to get back to "the scene of the crime" in my past and learn to show emotion. (If you know me at all, please insert your eye roll here.)
To put this lightly - some members of our therapy session handled the revelations a little better than others. Draw your own conclusions from that.
My night ended around 12:30a and I was able to fall asleep without anyone drawing anything on my face or putting my hand in warm water. Win!
I woke up around 7 and Amanda and I ran to the grocery store to pick up some milk to make breakfast. I was told the night before that people would probably be waking up earlier than usual, because they were sleeping in an unfamiliar place. In my head, I thought, "That means breakfast should be ready by 10, because they will wake up around 9:30!"
I was wrong. Wait - let me be more descriptive. I was wrong AND the house had such awesome acoustics that my breakfast-making managed to wake everyone up and apparently gave them the feeling that they wanted to murder me. (Whoops!) The take-away from Saturday morning, was that when people say "I'm going to wake up early" - get a specific time.
By the time everyone really woke up early (around noon), we lounged around for awhile until we went to late lunch/early dinner and then came home for everyone to get ready for the bachelorette shower (I wonder if guys give their soon-to-be wed friend presents??? Picturing a bunch of guys sitting around saying "Ohh...that's going to be so pretty on your wedding night!" is just funny to me...).
After properly outfitting Lauren for her honeymoon, we headed to downtown Asheville for the "going out" portion of the evening. We started at Tressa's Jazz Bar where I was able to witness a man with an 8" rattail, fanny pack, a bandage on his lip, and a creepy look on his face grind on his classy lady. Normally, it would be inappropriate to stare, but in this case - they didn't notice that I was watching them like a horrific car wreck had just occurred and I was waiting to see if there were any survivors.
Lauren was in her full bachelorette glory with the classy men of Tressa's. I am fairly certain I heard the words "I will dance with you, but if you touch me, I will cut you."
They were totally okay with that and fought over dancing with our gal.
Around 1a, we headed to a gay bar in Asheville, which was definitely eye-opening for me.
There are some places that you would love to revisit from your past - Scandals was not one of those places for me. It was like visiting a strobe-lit nightmare and the stench of the smoke machines took me immediately back to 2001.
We walked in when the drag show was going on. Now, don't get me wrong, I love a good drag show (lie), but if you're a cross-dressing male, don't hot glue fake foliage from Michael's Craft Store to a unitard and call it a costume. You look like a fool and are giving women and your cross-dressing counterparts a bad name.
As I was listening to Foster the People's "Pumped Up Kicks", I couldn't help but wonder how the band feels about their ditty being turned into a ear-piercing beat for shirtless men to dance to (Oh Asheville, shirtless men? Really?? You allow things that so many other cities would consider unhygienic). A song about a homicidal teen!?! LET'S ALL DANCE TO IT!!! YAY!
We arrived home around 3:30a and everyone raided the fridge before I fell asleep around 4, only to be woken up at 5:30 by a gal looking for sheets. Do you know what it feels like to have someone turn on the lights when you have just hit some serious REM sleep? I'm normally a nice gal, but it almost turned me into a murderous beast. Thank God "Pumped Up Kicks" wasn't playing - I would have told her that she better run, better run, outrun my gun....she better run, better run, faster than my bullet.
My alarm went off at 7am and Amanda, Adam, and I left the house to get home by 9am. Although it was super painful waking up, it was very nice taking a 6 hour nap today in my own bed. At what point does a "nap" turn into a "second sleep"?
All in all, the weekend provided some serious comedic moments and memories.
Cheers, Lauren! Enjoy your last two months as a non-married gal!