NoSalesTax

Two Elon alumni (2002) have pooled their talents to bring excitement and joy to your day. One is a classy woman who combines her Italian and feminine powers to influence men of all shapes and sizes. The other is a tall blond man who relies on wit and boyish good looks to impress women, especially when they're drunk. Join them in their epic pursuit of the phenomenon known as adulthood. NoSalesTax side effects may include addiction and abrupt laughter as colleagues look on in confused jealousy.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

As I throw up in my mouth

I post this link, courtesey of Jane:
http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,151397,00.html

“Volunteering at a Homeless Shelter”

That’s the answer I used to give people when they asked how the Greggster and I met. Truth is, we met at a bar. And while J-Mazz might find that a little odd or rare, I beg to differ. I know at least 2 other people in my office who met their spouses in a bar.
Where do people our age go at night? Bars. Personally, I never wanted to pick up my mate at work (too sketchy) at the gym (too sweaty) or on the metro (too psycho killer).
Maybe you can argue that people who meet in bars usually have on their drunk goggles, and aren’t really too interested in the conversation or personality traits of their lucky pick…..maybe it’s just a hook up.
But I knew that’s not all it was when I met my Greggtser. I spotted him from across the dance floor- I saw him singing Snoop Dogg. I saw that he knew every word. Frankly, I was impressed and intrigued. Anyone with the same annoying habit as me- memorizing and always singing rap lyrics- was someone I had to meet. And so it went.
Try match.com, try speed dating, try backpacking, try whatever you want. I’m a face to face kinda girl with a lot to say. I no longer see anything weird about meeting a great guy at a bar.

Weekend in DC (Part Two)

I met up w/ OOB and our friend Karen at a loud Mexican restaurant in Dupont for her bday. A bunch of her Ameri-friends joined us, which is always fun. AmeriCorps*NCCC really is like a frat, only w/ more drinking and no elephant walks.

We spent much of dinner killing pitchers of margaritas and remembering our days out west. OOB survived the exclusive conversations by staring at the tourney games on TV. We all left after Karen blew out the candle on her cake, making sure not to ignite the giant sombrero on her head. The nine of us then walked to Karen’s bar of choice, Brass Monkey (yes, the same Brass Monkey I’d been to the previous nite). OOB and I stood and watched basketball as the girls sat at a table and did their thing. And when I say, “Did their thing,” I mean they sat there as numerous guys sat down to hit on them.

On a side note, how many parents tell their kids they met at a bar? Not a lot. I suspect many of them are lying. For some reason, meeting at a hostel while backpacking across Europe sounds better than going home together after too many Vodka Tonics. Anyway, back to Saturday…

We left for Tom Tom’s after some drunk losers (not OOB and I) pissed off the bday girl after striking out w/ her. One of my Elon friends, Katie B., met up w/ us inside, again bridging the gap between my diff. circles of friends. Eventually, Karen and OOB had to go downstairs and satisfy their dancing jones. Unfortunately, they couldn’t contain it long enough and had to start dancing on the stairs. Yup, these are my friends.

As the nite wore on, I found myself chatting up an attractive Ivy League grad who works in a think tank. I used to think I was smart. OOB finally returned upstairs and proceeded to sit down and pass out. Or maybe he pretended to pass out just to make me look like a good friend as I woke him up and sent him home. Even the greatest have off-nites.

After Katie B. and I closed down the bar w/ our newest friends, my tank thinker gave me her business card and hopped in a cab. I’m wondering if she missed the part when I told her I live in BOSTON. I contemplated walking up to another bar, pounding on the window to get a guy’s attention, asking him if he likes apples before slamming her business card against the glass and saying, “Well I got her business card! How d’ya like them apples?” Somehow it just doesn’t have the same effect. If this continues, maybe I’ll need a little black Rolodex.

In case you’re wondering, Katie B. and I ended up at Pizza Mart before calling it a nite. The best 1,300 calories ever consumed in two minutes. I can't wait to go back.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Weekend in DC (Part One)

My trip began Friday at 4pm when I hopped on the T en route to Government Center. I found a standing spot near the doors on the left side (doors only open on the right until you get downtown) and began thinking about my next DC adventure. A couple crackheads, a nice mother-daughter tandem, boarded two stops down and chose a spot next to me on the now-crowded trolley. The mother seemed to be the captain of her team, as she shouted at other passengers to move in to let others board. Her daughter, meanwhile, sat teary-eyed as she struggled to stay conscious. I guess that’s what crack does to people. The mother eventually settled down after she found a seat. She proceeded to bang on the seats, keeping the beat to a rhythm in her head. It was a great start to my weekend.

I arrived at my apt. for the weekend (my friend Robyn lent me her place while she was outta town) around 8pm and immediately started boozing. Is it just me, or does Coors Lite make college basketball even sweeter? I eventually found my way to the Metro, where OOB and I met up w/ some of our TP (New Class) friends at Brass Monkey. Beezy and Emifaci arrived shortly after to represent TP (Old School). The only thing missing was a small Jewish man and his ego. We all shot some billiards and tipped back pints as the nite grew louder. My daily pool playing last month in the Teen Center translated into success at the bar. Damn, it feels good to be a gangster.

When the nite seemed it couldn’t get better, my good friend Charlie and his g/f, Rachel, walked into the bar. The collision of VISTA friends and one of my Ameri-brothers was too much to handle. OK, I lied. I handled it, but I was overwhelmed with happiness. So happy, in fact, Charlie and I continued our tradition of punching each other as hard as we can. I stayed away from his sternum this time, though, considering I almost killed him back in August w/ a chest shot.

After more booze (including a Red Bull and Vodka for Charlie to keep him awake) and a failed attempt at hacking in the bar, I led Charlie and Rachel to Pizza Mart. She had no idea what was in store for her, although my repeated shouting of “Pizza MAAAAAAAAAAART” indicated we were embarking on a memorable mission. We were early enough to avoid the nightly line, and had our pizza in seconds. There’s no describing the look on someone’s face the first time they come face-to-face with a Jumbo Slice. When we finished, I put the two lovebirds in a cab and returned to Brass Monkey just in time to say goodbye to the Old School ladies Later (no idea at what time), OOB, the New Class and I went to Pizza Mart (I think I ate another slice of 1,300 calories) before calling it a nite. The only bad part of the entire evening? I didn’t see a single street fight.

Look for Part Two of my DC weekend tomorrow.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Coming Tomorrow...

The recap of my weekend in DC. One hint: It involves alcohol. I'd type it up now (it's written in my notebook), but I must leave for the mountain. I'm taking some middle-school kids snowboarding this afternoon (my job rules), so I may have stories about that, as well. The main plot may focus on the fact I've never snowboarded in my life.