Thursday, January 28, 2010

Stories on 6th Street

6th Street is not for the faint of heart or the early to bed folk, like me.  But for memorable occasions and pub crawling it’s definitely the place to be.

When our friends Ant Dawg and B-Ran called on their way thru town a few weeks ago and asked if we had plans for Friday, I had to stifle my laughter.  Friday night plans?  Ha!

JS and I postponed our ritualistic Friday night pajama party in front of the TV, much to the beloved Chihuahuan’s disappointment, and hit the town.

My idea of dinner and drinks quickly veered out of control and ended in 7 hours of hard partying.  (Thanks to the Sweet Baby Jesus there was only one Red Bull involved.)

We braved the rain and the cold and met up with Ant and B’s friends…  Which were quickly dubbed “Ross” and “The Baby” because I was incapable of remembering their real names.

The Baby said she was 24 but since I never validated her I.D. I’m certain she was not a day over 16.  The Baby, who’s stated profession was ‘Kindergarten teacher’, shocked my socks off with her incredible pole dancing skills.  (Lots of roof top tent poles out there)  I couldn’t help but think, damn…  Is this the future of education?  And, Wow!  If nothing else, those chil’ren are going to have mad dancing skills.

Some of the night’s highlights included:

My super sick driving skills that landed us mid intersection on red.

The bartender asking people to be gentle with the inflatable Bevo, after he sustained some pelvic thrusting.

JS River Dancing alone, center stage, with an umbrella…

Ant Dawg asking the police for “a pump,” even though they were not riding bikes.

B-Ran and The Baby crashing into the side of a building, landing them in a very cold puddle, only to sustain one bump-it injury. (And yes, the bump-it really works.)

A few hours later B-Ran asking, “Why are my pants wet?”

Anthony leading 200 people in song as we closed the bar,  “Pants on the ground, pants on the ground. Lookin’ like a FOOL with yo pants on the ground!”

The largest umbrella known to man somehow survived 7 hours of pub crawling.

Ending the night with 4000 calories at Taco Cabana.  Rest in peace, bowl of queso.  Rest in peace

Thanks guys!  We had a blast!

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Gator Dimples

Read At Your Own Risk

I don’t think I’m ready for this jelly.  I don’t think I’m ready for this jelly.  I don’t think I’m ready for this jelly.  Is my body to bootilicious for ya baby?...

This is the song I sing as I check out what’s going on these days in booty/thighville.  Or going down, rather…  Is it possible for your ass to drip down your thigh?  From the looks of all those GD dimples and ripples it’s hard to tell exactly what’s happening.  But know this much.  It aint pretty.

I can hear my mirror screaming “OMG! IT’S MELTING!” as I race to the shower, ripping my eyes away from the horror.  (Clenching your butt cheeks or performing the Chicken dance naked in front of the mirror are both really HORRIBLE ideas.  Just trust me on this one.)

But not for long bitches!  Day 5 of P90X has been another success.  The dogs are on board and being quite helpful and I won’t let my inner fat kid sabotage my efforts (not counting the cheese burger and fries she made me eat last night).

This year I wave adios to my twenties and my thigh dimples.  (If that’s possible to do without having Lypo.  And now I have another excellent item to add to my Christmas list for next year!  Does anyone know if Santa does Lypo?)

So what if I can’t dress myself because my arms are frozen in pain?  (I was trapped inside my shirt for only moments before JS came to my rescue.)  This pain can’t possibly last forever can it? 

Prada says, "Only 300 more to go!  Move it fatty!"

"Seriously?  When Tony says "Bring It," do you think he meant the
 5# hand weights?  Nope.  Me neither."
"Can you cry with less noise?  I'm trying to nap over here."

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Gator Blessings

I have always felt like I’m the luckiest person ever.  Not like I win every contest I enter, but really super lucky in life.  Extremely blessed.

Growing up my parents went way above and beyond for me and my sister.  We had ponies in our backyard, numerous pets and were only made to endure a few years of torturous dance lessons.  Mom made sure we looked like we had just stepped from the pages of an 80’s fashion magazine, with our puff paint tops, jelly shoes and hair bows large enough to obscure small screen TV’s.  Later, thank you to Jesus and Madre, she upgraded our hair and clothing from the 80's to the 90’s and those super short Madonna hair-do’s from our past have become mildly less traumatic with each passing year.  (Although it’s been a very short 23 years.)

We had our very own swimming pool, cars in high school and a great college education provided for us.  I won the most incredible internship in Canada when I was working on my undergrad and had the opportunity to play polo in the most beautiful countryside I have ever seen.

I was accepted to, and completed professional school, thus becoming the first Dr. Gator in our family.  My first job as an associate moved me to the most amazing city in Texas.  A truly wonderful place that I would like to call home for a very long time.

I met the man of my dreams while working on my undergrad.  One who grocery shops and cooks dinners  (even if he says it’s only a survival mechanism), surprised me with the gift of my dream horse, and didn’t leave me when I brought home the Ebella virus, butt rat Chihuahuan, even after he asked me not too.  The same man that bought a farm for our growing number of pasture pets and then sold that same farm to join me in the city.  The man who has supported me over the last year as I quit the job  (and nightmare)  that brought us here and helped me build my very own business!  A man with the most amazing family that I absolutely love to pieces.

I can’t even count all the friendships that I am thankful for, old and new.  I really have the most amazing friends, my Sister being one of my dearest.

I am so thankful for the experience to be an Aunt!  It’s like all the fun of having kids without the permanent responsibility.  (It certainly doesn’t hurt that I have the most beautiful and sweetest niece and nephews ever.)  I had NO IDEA how great it would be and I love every minute.  Especially because I’m allowed to hand the baby back with that HORRIBLE, stinky poop diaper intact :)

More recently I am thankful for my sparkly new computer from Santa!  My heart shines everytime I touch the clickity new keys or glance at it's sleek uber coolness.  It even has a sticky note function, and frankly that's the coolest shit EVER.

I no longer have to peer thru the forrest of cracks in my ancient computer screen and play the "is that the minimize button or the close my entire screen without saving button?" game.  Although that was fun and exciting, it's time to move on!

I am Blessed to have a family that pushes me to the brink of homicide and then forgives me my ugliness as well as the option to spend all further Chrismases in a foreign country sans the same family mentioned above.

I very much look forward to a New Year, one in which I have time to stregthen my positive characteristics and time to drown my negative characteristics with booze and, or therapy.

And I look forward to this New Year with deep gratitude in my heart for all the Blessings I have received and all the Blessings yet to come, and I wish you all the same.

(And I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed that Sister will have at least one more baby.  I’m almost certain she’d then be willing to let J or K come live with Aunt Gator if I promise to change stinky pants.)

Friday, January 1, 2010

Island Living

Gator Does Galvatraz

Do you have any friends outside of your siblings that you literally grew up in diapers with?  Particulary the ones that you still enjoy keeping in touch with?  For these purposes cyber stalking via an online social networking site of your choice counts as 'keeping in touch.'  Well I sure as heck do!

Recently I invited myself down to a wee Texas island for a fast and furious girl’s weekend with my oldest friends on record.  Not “old” as in blue hair and wrinkles, but the very first friends I actually made in life…  (That’s if my faulty memory records serve me correctly and I choose to believe that they do.)  AND I also got to meet, face to face, one of my newest most favorite corrupting influences, Hurricane Josephine.

Hey!  Do you remember the time…?

… I threw a rock at your brother's head and he had to get stitches?  Do you think your parents knew that I did that? 
LS:  Nah.  The only time he had to get stitches was the time I stuck his finger in a bicycle chain.
G:  Really!?  I’ve been harboring guilt over that for like 20 effing years!

…I used to ask, "if I order a pizza will y'all help me eat it?”

…Or that time we paid the pizza man with a bag of nickels and it exploded on your front porch as I was making the exchange?  The poor pizza guy was super pissed!

…My Mom backed her brand new car into your Dad’s tree and broke her tail light?

…We swiped a couple of cigarettes and smoked them between our house and the neighbors?
G:  Your Dad’s?
MKT:  No.  He smoked menthols.  We grabbed some of your Mom’s Virginia Slim’s. 
G:  Oh, YEAH!

…We used to swim in that retention pond back in the woods or how about the time we left that gate open and all those cows got loose into the neighborhood?

…I would build a totally indestructible death trap of a jump for you and Confetti and point you toward it?  Off you’d go, no questions asked, and I was totally peaking threw my fingers to make sure you lived!

…We roved the neighborhood day and night completely unsupervised?  We were totally like little unfed migrants stopping in at the neighbors just to eat cookies and milk, or whatever was being served for dinner.

…Those crazy dance routines Big Sara choreographed and then forced us to dance to!?  Her poor Baby Kate didn’t stand a chance of escaping the bow head, did she?

…The time we took your Mom’s Volvo to Mc Donald’s and side swiped the yellow pole at the gas station!?
G:  And we shit ourselves trying to scrub the paint off her fender?

And I’ve forgotten at least a hundred more.

Recap of Island Shenanigans:

MKT:  You’re shitting me!?  You have a skeleton in your car?  Let’s take him to the bar with us!
G:  He does have a good set of wheels.
MKT:  Why the F do you have a skeleton in your car!?
G:  I just cleaned out my closet.

J:  I have to wear those Godforsaken boots every day; don’t give me shit about my hooker heels!

G:  (Belligerently sober) I’m sorry.  Can you possibly make me a drink that doesn’t involve the palm of your hand touching my ice?
Wee Bar Keep:  Your friend here needs to learn some bar etiquette.
G:  And your bar tender should work on his hygiene.

G:  (Still belligerently sober) Dude.  This conversation is exhausting me.
Dude:  Why?
G:  I’m carrying the whole effing conversation, and frankly I’m tired of hearing myself talk.
Dude:  Slowly makes his exit.

G:  (Much less sober) Josephine!  You’re gonna hafta kill that guy.
J:  Why?  What’d he do?
G:  Number one?  He’s wearing a burnt orange shirt.  Number two?  He’s inappropriately eyeballing me.

It took approximately 24 hours to get over my deep disappointment that I couldn’t convince JoJo ‘Killer’ to actually kill anyone…  And 48  (or maybe it was 72)  hours to get over my hangover.  2 weeks it took me to quit dreaming about bagel bites and only 3 weeks to find the time and energies to dig this story out of my rusty and dehydration compromised short term memory.

I do feel that I’m finally on to something here, though.  There seems to be a resounding theme, a moral so to speak, of my tale and more recent holiday experiences.  I am most belligerent while sober.  Perhaps all that is needed to mollify Gator and my horrible Tourette’s syndrome is regular imbibing.  Or more importantly, limit my exposure to any one group of people to less than 24 hours.  Most certainly there shall be further exploration of this hypothesis in the New Year.

*Much thanks to Little Sarah and D, Mary and John, Josephine and the US Army as well as all the beautiful chil'ren (doggy and the human kind) that made this weekend possible, drove sober, supplied the amazing couch, plied the obnoxious with munchies and offered to do it again ;)