Luggage Cart Madness
Good old STL. I can’t even remember the last time I was there, but it never was more fun than it was last weekend. I have two words for you: Mardi and Gras. Put them together and what do you get? Booze, beads, and boobs. What more could a girl ask for?
So we rolled in on Friday, checked into our mini-me hotel room, and commenced pre-partying with some of our neighbors and eventually at the hotel bar, "Margarita’s." We cruised to The Landing where we bent over Morgan St. and fucked it so hard that it won't be able to walk for weeks. Seriously, it was so fun and the ratio of men to women was grossly in my favor.
Cristi and I were cruising for more alcohol when suddenly, the clouds parted, sun shone down, and a shining angelic chorus filled the air. Time stopped and I stood leaning awkwardly, mouth open and drooling, eyes glazed over. There, in front of us, was a man so perfect that he could only be Trent Reznor’s illegitimate son. He was so f-ing beautiful that I nearly fell over and thrashed around on the floor like some forest creature in heat. I grabbed Cristi and pointed straight at him, making unsightly tongue gestures and grunting noises. I managed to pull it together long enough to give him a come hither smile without spontaneously combusting when he looked over.
After stalking him all over the bar, he finally came up to talk to me. His name was Travis. Trent...Travis...Trentavis? Coincidence? I think not! Of course, he was like, way too young for me, and studying to be a dentist, but how blistering hot is that? AND, dentist...Trentist? Huh? Huh? I’m saying give me some laughing gas, a dental recliner, and a spit sucker and I’ll be a happy camper! And of course, he was also the hottest dancer in the entire northern hemisphere. *sigh* So after lusting for hours and hours, the bar totally ruined my game and closed. He invited me back to his room, but you guys, I am seriously done with that shit. Despite all my drunken pleading with myself, I said no. God damn it! But it is better this way because the fantasy isn’t ruined, right? Blah! More on this subject next post…
Anywho, we got back to the hotel in a complete drunken stupor. Arti hitched a ride to the room via the luggage cart, which proved to be too tempting for me and Cec to ignore, so Cory proceeded to drive us around the hotel to the snack machines, where we ran into a very irate hotel employee who demanded that we return his cart. Oops.
After getting denied at the vending machines, we joined a couple of our new friends for a 3AM run to White Castle, or as I like to call it, White Gristle, as my burger clearly had a large, tooth chippingly nasty piece of hoof in it. We were greeted at the door by beast of a woman who was on some wicked hallucinogenic drugs and screaming at the restaurant patrons about how white man’s diseases ruined her life, and took her land, etc. She was completely scary, but we couldn’t help but laugh. Then, after standing in line for seventy three and a half hours, some guy got in Cecilee’s face and kept insisting that she was high because her eyes were irritated. Needless to say, we forced down our sick ass food real fast and busted it back to the hotel where we stayed up giggling all night.
Saturday, we partied at the parade, shared vulgar stories with the most awesome chicks in St. Louis, refused to expose our breasts, and drank beer from pitchers at Soulard. Three of us ate an entire 16” pizza at Imo’s and ended up tipping the guy $2 to let us use the bathroom. We had to sneak through the alley to get to it, but it was the best piss I’ve ever taken.
Then we rocked back to The Landing to dominate the Train Wreck, where we danced for three solid hours. No break. Just dancing like strippers all night long. We were doing synchronized moves, using the railing as a prop, and returning the considerable show that Smith and Katie, who were on the dance floor below, were giving us. It was so fun! I decided to bail out of our hotel room due to the fact that there were like fourteen people in it, and had an excellent slumber party at Cristi’s.
Before peacing out of STL, we forced down the sickest hotel breakfast ever the next day. I’m talking runny eggs, salmonella, and all. Novak even ate the piece of bread that soaks up the bacon grease. Ew. In the end, we were hung over, had blisters on our feet, and had the full on beer shits...It’s so on again for next year! Woo hoo!
Notable Quotes:
Novak: “There are many layers to my onion tit.”
Scary Wasted Native American Woman in White Castle: “Duz anybodddy have any ressspec for Nat’ve Amerricans? Damm white folksss, took er land ‘n…hey…you all have diseasseseses. Diseaseses. Diz…”
Cory: “That freak has like fifty diseases in her pleated skirt.”
Arti: “My people hate me ‘cause some Indian guy kissed her and not me.”
Smith: "We're not even the same ethnicity, GOD!"
Cory: “Shut up, you sick bitch! You’re gonna get daddy in trouble!”
Cec: “It’s not dentist approved to floss your teeth with a thong!”
Cristi: (singing) "If you wanna come to my grandma's, baby I will give you my house key...'cause we're havin' a slumber party, checking out 10 in the morning."
