...and how was YOUR weekend?

Warning: Melisa + Vodka = Crazy shit going down

I’m not sure what it is about this particular clear liquid that makes it so dangerous but once imbibed by yours truly, it’s pretty much guaranteed that:

a) I’m going to end up naked
b) I will probably cry
c) I will tell somebody that I love them (usually via text message)
d) Good odds that I will scare the shit out of some poor schmuck therefore insuring that any chances of getting another date are slim (please refer back to “C”)

Date/Time: Friday/6 pm             Location: Hollywood Blvd., The Chad Pad

Me: Mmmm…beer.

Chad: There’s also vodka in the freezer.

Me: Fuck!

Chad: Two bottles…

Me: Double Fuck. You do that on purpose, don’t you?

Chad: Do what?

Me: You know my track record with Vodka. You are definitely flirting with danger.

Chad: The shot glasses are in the cupboard.

And so it began.

By the end of the evening, I had been to LAX to pick up a friend, gone to Saddle Ranch on Sunset with a guy wearing a cow tipping T-shirt, met and became BFF’s with some girl there for her birthday because I liked her pretty blue cocktail, got hit on by her arrogant, pushy, abusive-type, overweight boyfriend, ate cotton candy, borrowed some glasses from Saddle Ranch (my purse is much bigger than I realized), ended up at a strip club that was clearly a front from something else, cried because I thought I was going to be sold into sexual slavery, somehow managed to change my Blackberry settings from English to Spanish, took a muscle relaxer and lost my purse. The weekend can best be summed up in this Facebook status I posted:

“Woke up with my bra on inside out. Pretty happy to have Monday off. I'm gonna need it.”

I also may or may not have made out with a 25 year old virgin from Kansas. He also may or may not still be a virgin.

Luckily, I was able to get my purse back from the human traffickers at the strip club the next night, so all was not lost. Feeling a little uncomfortable knowing that they probably went through my stuff and now know where I live. For once, I’m grateful that I’m too old to be kidnapped and sold.

By the end of my binge on Sunday, my liver had cried “Uncle” more than once.

Things I learned from this weekend’s debauchery:

1) Never trust a cab driver that refers you to The 7th Veil
2) Beer is not part of a balanced breakfast for a reason
3) My panties have a mind of their own and will end up on the living room table
4) Taking a muscle relaxer while still drinking is probably not one of my better ideas
5) Next time I go out, it’s probably for the best, to leave my cell phone at home

…and how was YOUR weekend???