Good lord it is a hot son of a bitch in this
swamp city we call D.C. Seriously, could it 1) rain any more, and 2) be any more humid?
This weekend, the craziest of all Canadian (ex) bloggers descended on this city for some drunken debauchery. (Note to self: I am not 21 anymore.) It is only when friends come to town that we get to be tourists. Unlike other visitors, her kind of tourism was right up my alley. See the monuments from air conditioned Speedracer, eat crabs in Annapolis, drink, then venture out to Tyson’s to do some credit card damage, ultimately eating at Maggiano’s. Okay, I bought more underwear. It’s a totally different selection at the famed Tyson’s Victoria’s Secret, infamous for their racy mannequin poses in the windows last fall. Meow.
Friday night we met up with I66, KassyK, Virgile Kent and CircleV. (CircleV is a hottie in case you kids didn’t know.) I hear that VP of Dior was there, but when I read that, via email exchanged the next day with KassyK and I66, I was a bit surprised. I could not, for the life of me, recall this, but it rang a faint bell when mentioned. Sorry girl. I even think I may have spoken to you at some point. How did I get that drunk? Let’s see…
Yuengling at my house. Stella at Eye Bar. 2nd Stella at Eye Bar. Got it. Vodka shot. Okay. Still good. 3rd Stella. I’m still okay at this point. Then, another shot. And I have no clue what it was, and then more Stella got tossed in there, mix it up with my 4 crackers for dinner, bake it in an oven of about 100 degrees and 100% humidity and out comes a drunk Velvet. Drunk as in, don’t remember leaving Eye Bar, don’t remember how we got to Play, don’t remember being told we couldn’t get in somewhere, possibly Play, maybe not, don’t remember anything about 1223. That’s not like me.
The last time this happened to me, where I legitimately could not recall a whole block of time, I was in Paris. We apparently took a shuttle from the airplane into the terminal, and I had no recollection a few hours later. But that was because I was on some meds to knock me out for my flying anxiety made worse by September 11th. But Friday night? I really have no clue how any of that transpired. Four beers and a couple shots should not have done me in that way. But, no more shots for me. Lesson learned, over and over.
Ok, so back to Connecticut Avenue. What I do remember is busting through the crowd at Play to go to the bathroom, then coming out, not being able to find anyone, being completely drenched in sweat, and leaving. I sat in a planter outside Citibank, and then my phone rang. Luckily it was the Canadian (woo hoo!) and she came outside. Then I apparently sat on the sidewalk, rolled up my jeans, and we walked home from there. I only know this to be true because there are pictures on my camera. Many many pictures I don’t recall, and many texts on my phone, both sent and received, and I have no knowledge of any of them. I66 told me by email the next day that I offered him my couch so he didn’t have to go back on metro. Yep. I consulted my phone, and he was right. I could have conducted World War III via texting and I would have had NO IDEA.
Anyway, it’s become my personal mission to not drink as much as I do. I have realized that for some reason, what one person drinks is always of great interest to their comrades. Every “night of” I’ve witnessed is spent bringing shots to tables, strong arming friends into doing them, buying more drinks, saying “You’re slowing down!” Every “morning after” is spent recalling the number of drinks, shots, times, locations. Why is it such a competition? Those days are so over for me. And not because I’m a goodie-goodie. Believe me. I can lay down a bet that I’ve done more partying than most of you. It is a bet I would win, hands down. But those days are getting further and further behind me, and I like keeping them there. It’s good to get out now and again and tear it up, but not at the cost of not recalling a few hours worth of time. What if I lost my group? What if my friends weren’t around? What if I walked home alone – which I’ve been known to do. I’ll stop what if’ing now. I have to make better decisions. Not just with drinking. All around. It starts…now.
Wowza. We have the same personal mission!
Not an easy decision, but a good one. You will be just as smart and funny and beautiful when you don’t have to rely on your phone or friends to remember. Keep those friends close. They’ll help you stay the course and celebrate your victories along the way.
“…my flying anxiety made worse by September 11th.”
I know how you feel. I’ve not been able to face CIA or Chileans since September 11, 1973, nor Mormons since the September 11, 1857 Mountain Meadows massacre of the Baker/Fancher party.
These 911s really get me down.
I had one of those nights, once. Except I was wandering CT Ave in search of the metro, which should not have been difficult to find – we were at Citron. Fortunately, I’m easily to see in a crowd, and my friends found me sans problem and got me home. But the what ifs still haunt me. Stupid what ifs. Here’s to better decision-making – cheers!
Perhaps I’m missing the point, here.
The funniest part about being offered a place to sleep was that I was maybe 100 yards from the metro at the time. That and I only needed to wait 6 minutes for a train. I feared something in the neighborhood of 15 minutes which would have sucked, but 6 wasn’t too bad…
Sobriety + Responsibility + Dating abstinence = Boring Velvet!
Drunken hookups + Panty pictures + Bad dating decisions = Velvety Blogilicious-ness!
All kidding aside, I am in detox mode too. It sucks, this being summertime and all. But not as bad as waking up and trying to piece together the events of the previous evening and then feeling crummy for the remainder of the day. Welcome to your 30’s kid!
It’s good to see BP can be funny without his thesaurus!
I had a blast…I know we lost you guys when we went to Play…I couldn’t remember parts of the night either but I do remember saying “Lets meet at Play” and then Cookie buying me a redheaded slut shot and then something about Fudruckers and having a slumber party with my girls. Lol. I love those nights but I am with you in cutting it down a SMIDGE. But just a smidge. 🙂 You still looked great and it was great to see you.
Hey Velvet, great to meet you, I also had a pretty, pretty, pretty crazy night, but it was def a good time 🙂
Okay this looks really bad that you hung out with me and you cant remember blocks of time..
Can you please clarify to your loyal reader that neither me nor any of my friends had anything to do with it. I’m just saying I make plenty of ha ha funny jokes, but this time I’m innocent.
So no one is going to put up that crazy picture of that chick in the skirt??? Fine Ill do it. But I had a great time. Just waiting for pictures to be developed Ill post probably on Wednesday.
Crazy Girl – But we had a plan for some craziness didn’t we? Damn!
Bill – It’s not the drinking itself that bothers me, it’s the entire block of time I can’t recall. That has never happened to me. I basically recall the night up till a point, then I’ve lost the rest. Not good.
BP – I hate you.
Buttercup – No, you aren’t missing the point at all. Though it’s scarier in your case to be in a ‘hood that you are not familiar with, when you are liquored up. At least I was on home turf.
I66 – And we did get a funny ass metro story from you, so it was good you got that little gem on your way home. I won’t tell it and ruin it for you in case you are going to or have posted. I haven’t checked any blogs yet…just got to work.
Cosmic – Laughing at your BP comment. But you know anyone who addresses him gets the wrath of craziness, right?
KassyK – See, where WAS Cookie? I had no idea what the hell was going on. Oy.
V – Great to finally meet you too!
VK – It shouldn’t look bad. At least you guys were all there to make sure those in blackout mode (meaning: myself) were not jumped, mugged, gang raped, or any other host of events that could happen to a foolish drunk girl. I really don’t know what happened, but I’ve never been so unable to recall any events. Usually you remember pieces, and you can piece together the rest. But Friday? I got nothing after Eye Bar. I remember yanking SJ through the crowd to get to the bathroom, and sitting outside, but that’s all.
I was stumbling around elsewhere in DC, meeting up with other bloggers and non-bloggers, but v. much appreciated the “get your sweet blonde ass over here – pretty please?” text sent by one Hot, Drunk Velvet.
Ha ha! I66 was standing next to me, texting furiously, and I said, “What are you doing?” He said, “Trying to get Kathryn over here, she’s in town.” So I said, “Here, let me try!” I tried, I did, I did!
Cosmic – A thesaurus will get you through times of no Velvet better than Velvet will get you through times of no thesaurus. Trust me I know of whom, and of which, I speak.
Velvet – Need I say it?
Need you say what? You need to say less.
HA! I kill me.
Holy crap! I have a hangover just from reading this! Sounds like it was a great time. Oh, and feel free to blame Canada. It’s that 6% beer that we feed our kids which makes them such alkies.
Detox is soooo overrated.
Funny… I seem to remember at least one mention of “Blame Canada!” on the walk over to Connecticut Ave.
Wow, sounds like a great time! Wish my crew could have met up with y’all–we were trying to show our out-of-town guest that Washingtonians knew how to throw down. 🙂
Ignis Fatuus: A phosphorescent light that hovers or flits over swampy ground at night, possibly caused by spontaneous combustion of gases emitted by rotting organic matter.
Man, of all weekends I had to be away for a family gig. I missed out!
It was the Jagermeister. I won’t even use the word meister in a sentence anymore. Too many wrecked nights and weekends stem from one or two shots of Jagermeister.
Raincover & I66 – It’s a good song!
BJ – I got your email, but I was too late to let you know. How was the night?
BP – One more and you’re be deleted. I dare you.
EF – We are due for a country bar visit, aren’t we? With the little one above you – BJ not BP.
Velvet – Sorry, didn’t mean to suggest or assume that drinking was the concern. The memory gap is. I’ve had it happen a few times. You were having fun up to a point, and you’d like to believe you were having fun after that, but it’s just lost. Completely. How can you know when you’re going to cross the line into alien abduction or Eternal Sunshine? I’ve never figured it out.
A certain frog in love would not be so enchanted or amused to learn that her beloved had been turned into Prince Charming by the kiss of Princess Velvet. Or would she? Best to date within your own species Miss Velvet.
Struck dumb she be, Cosmic. Velvet be all bark and no bite. Sammy and Thora must don the paper bags yet again.
I’m hovering my mouse over the “block IP address” on an IP suspiciously from Canada. Go ahead. Today, amidst little sleep, torrential rain, incredible traffic and PMS if you want tempt me, I’ll block you. Again, this is NOT your blog.
Bilious, you are about to join the ranks of my 3 most hated slutbag alcoholic lunatic enemies. How does that feel? You’ll be in good company though. They have plenty of meds and alcohol. And apparently they know some of DC’s finest bartenders “very well.”
That’s a pretty specific list. It must take a lot of douchebaggery and jackholeness to be a part of it.
Annnnnd blocked. Actually, since there are not static IP’s seems I’ve blocked an entire Internet Provider. Hmmph. Sorry to any other readers in Canada who use that dial up service. Oh well.
I guess you are blaming Canada after all! Hahahahaaaa! Glad he’s blocked. The guy didn’t even make sense.
Hahaha…Cookie was at Play w/me and my girls and you guys were at Spank…hahahaa.
He’s an assfuck, Raincouver.
Umm well alright. I’ll make an exception for you V! Debauchery in our very near future!
Velvet, PMS is no excuse. I still love you though. Innit?
Little piece of shit, if you think you can come to my blog and post comments without being deleted, you’d better think again.
Hey! Put a name to that I66, else people will think we’re not in love anymore!
um Velvet, do you not remember our whole conversation at Eyebar about orgasms and me not liking battery operated things “down there?”
Um. I don’t remember that. My god, I really barely drank. At the end of Eye Bar, I really could have only had 3, maybe 4 beers, and the shot. I have no idea what happened.
Christ, even I remember that conversation.