My first bar experience


It was about this time one year ago when I had my first real bar experience. A bunch of girls that I worked with at JC Penney were going to see a band at a local bar. I was only 20, but I was also tired of missing out on all of the fun, so I used my older sister’s ID to get in. Thankfully, the bouncer was too drunk to realize that I’m not anywhere near 5’8″, blonde hair, or the age of 27, so I got in no problem.

I quickly pounded about four red bull Vodka’s within an hour of entering the door, and who knows what else. I’m sure it was a lovely evening, but honestly I don’t remember one damn thing.

I rode to the bar with a couple coworkers after we pre-partied at on of their houses. All I brought with me was my sister’s ID, cash, and my car keys. Unfortunately my car keys fell out of my pocket on the ride over, and were left in the back seat of that girl’s car. I then went home from the bar with my boyfriend and without my keys. That was the first night that we ever had sex. So around like 4:00am when I was a little bit sobered up, I realized that I needed to go home so I could get up at 6:00am and go to work. That was about the time that I realized that I had no keys. No problem, my boyfriend could give me a ride home, and then my mom could take me to work.

We get to my house and my mom’s car is in the driveway so I know she’s home. Front door was locked and since I had no cars keys, I also had no house keys. This led to taking a lawn chair to the side of the house and hauling my drunk ass through my bedroom window. By this time it was about 5:00am, and I realized that even though my mom’s car was home, she wasn’t. I then realized that my boyfriend had lost his phone and my phone was dead anyways, so I had no way to call him or anyone else to give me a ride to work. I then realized that if I wanted to get to work on time I needed to get dressed and start walking. I then also realized that this sucks.

So, I put on my heaviest coat, scarves, gloves, and a hat and started walking. I made it there on time. Three other girls that had gone to the bar the previous night also had to work that morning. We all showed up wearing the same clothes from the night before, slightly drunk, smelling like booze, and got away with it. We opened the store, someone went on a coffee run on their lunch break to keep us alive, we put up with the cranky holiday rush of customers, and we survived the experience. The girl who had my keys in her car brought them to me (up until that point I had no clue where they were), and my mom picked me up after I clocked off and took me to my car. I then drove home and slept for about 20 hours straight and regretted my life choices.


Having A Britney Moment


At some point in time, we all experience living with a horrible roommate. Someone dirty, annoying, or otherwise completely unsuitable of cohabitation. My boyfriend and I, out of necessity so we could afford our $600/month apartment, let one of his coworkers move in to our spare bedroom. Two days later we both regretted it.

Roommate showed up to move in with two black trash bags full of his stuff; that’s it. Two trash bags full of unwashed, smelly clothes. I mistakenly allowed him to use our futon, which I let him keep forever because of the smell he has ingrained into every fiber of it. After he moved in it just went downhill from there. He would smoke cigarettes and weed inside, which was strictly against our landlord’s rules. He would come home at 3 or 4 in the morning, lock himself in his room with music cranked at full level, and rack up noise complaints from our neighbors because of the disruption. His room had a smell that lingered for a couple months after we eventually kicked him out, no matter how much we cleaned it.

One time, Roommate came home after work and pushed a bike inside. He didn’t have a car and was always mooching rides from us, so of course we were happy to see that he had found some kind of transportation for himself. “Nice bike, dude! Where’d you get it?” Boyfriend asked him. And what was Roommate’s reply? “Yeah, pretty dope right?! I found it behind a bush!” he explained as he wheeled it out to the patio to put it away. When he came back inside, I asked “wait, so you just found it behind a bush and brought it home?” He looked at me like I was crazy for asking him such a silly question. “Yeah man! I was walking by some apartment place on my way home and I just found it! Pretty fuckin’ sweet right?!” Boyfriend and I looked at each other, looked back at him, both of us just said “uhhh yeah, pretty cool man” and then spent the next few months hoping that no one would come knocking on our door because they saw their stolen bike sitting in plain sight on our patio.

Fast forward a few weeks. Boyfriend went out to a local bar with Roommate and some of their other coworkers for Bar Bingo. I stayed up playing Luigi’s Mansion on my game cube and listening to music. They guys walked home after the bar closed, and came stumbling in as white-girl wasted as possible. Boyfriend laid down on the floor by my feet and held up his bingo prize, a thermos with Puff the Magic Dragon on it. Roommate had gone into the bathroom. Boyfriend wandered into the kitchen and i paused my game to monitor the drunks. Boyfriend made himself content sitting in the middle of the kitchen eating a leftover breakfast burrito from earlier that day, and Roommate seemed to be in the bathroom with the door wide open, so i just left both of them alone and went back to my game. Suddenly Boyfriend gets super interested in whatever Roommate is doing in the bathroom, sets down half of a burrito on the kitchen floor and gets up to investigate. Suddenly I hear laughing from the hallway and Boyfriend is yelling “OH MY GOD HE’S SHAVING HIS HEAD!” quickly followed my Roommate yelling at Boyfriend to get out of the bathroom and leave him alone. I paused my game again and stood at the end of the hallway. Boyfriend was thinking this was the funniest thing in the world, and Roomate was thinking about killing Boyfriend. “Boyfriend, get away from Roommate before he punches you,” I tried to reason with
him. “But he’s SHAVING his HEAD!” he laughs. “I know babe, but I think he wants you to leave him alone…” I try again, while Roommate gets increasingly angry. Boyfriend can’t take it


any more and won’t leave Roommate alone. “BUT HE’S HAVING A BRITNEY MOMENT!!!” He yells at me from down the hallway. While I applaud his comparison of Roommate to

Britney Spears’ unfortunate 2007 head-shaving incident, it may have been a poorly timed pop culture reference, as it got him shoved out of the bathroom and the spontaneous movement ca

used extreme nausea,  which led to him running down the hallway and out to

the patio where he started barfing off over the hand railing.

At this point I pretty much decided that there was nothing that I could do about the current situation, so I put a glass of water on the patio for Boyfriend and went back to my game. About 10 minutes later, Boyfriend’s barfing subsided. He literally lifted his head up, wiped barf off of his mouth with his sleeve, walked inside, and started eating the breakfast burrito that he left in the middle of the kitchen floor earlier. I would have done something about this, but at the same moment Roommate emerges from the bathroom looking like someone took a weed whacker to his head. There were tufts of hair that he’d missed sticking up everywhere all over his head. He looks at me, and goes “Hey, will you help me with the back? I think I missed a spot….” Boyfriend and I are trying not to laugh and I’m like “Are you sure? It looks fine to me…” “Yes I’m sure I missed a spot I can feel it!” He yells, and to avoid more anger I went ahead and just shaved the rest of his head. While I was in the bathroom doing this, Boyfriend went outside to barf some more. I sent Roommate to bed hoping that he would wake up and wonder where the hell his hair was, and went to tend to Boyfriend. He was now laying on the couch with part of a burrito in his hand passed the hell out. Eventually the night winded down after Roommate came out to make a late dinner, Boyfriend decided to go for a walk by himself at 4 in the morning, then coming home to take a shower and we all eventually went to bed. We woke up the next morning with a bathroom completed covered in hair and Boyfriend going downstairs to cover up his barf with some dirt so the neighbor wouldn’t see it.

Although we had some Thorn Bush Rose moments with Roommate, eventually “2-stroke”, as he liked to be called, racked up too many noise complaints and almost got us kicked out of our apartment, so he had to go. We still see him occasionally because Boyfriend still works with him, but I can honestly say I will not miss the smell of drugs, alcohol, and bad choices that came from that spare bedroom. Boyfriend and I again became unable to afford our apartment by ourselves, so we moved into my mom’s house, which she started renting out after she moved a few hours away to a neighboring town. From what I know, 2-stroke moved into a super sketchy apartment complex in a meth-filled area of our town

and now sells weed. He lives alone, and Boyfriend and I now have a new roommate who smells nice, has no weird nick names, and has his own bike that he bought with his own money, and did NOT find behind a bush.