Kristabella: Full of Snark Since 1977

Posted By Kristabella on September 4, 2007

Yes, internet, I am alive. I did in fact survive KJ Palooza and have therefore lived to see my real 30th birthday. Although it is still 10 days away. And I am going to an event at the race track on Saturday that involves four hours of open bar. And I may streak the track and get trampled by the horsies.

So yeah, 30th fake birthday party. Lots of drinks. No really hilarious stories.

Actually it was basically, booze, booze, booze, pizza, booze, wine, booze, booze, boat cruise, pictures, booze, sunny days, booze, Michigan lost, booze, booze, to a I-AA team, booze, 32 ounce special, booze, booze, booze, laughing, booze, booze, the other ASU, booze, booze, calculator, booze, booze, eight beers, booze, booze, fancy party dress, booze, booze, dancing, booze, booze, Cubs game, booze, booze, booze, Alphabet Game, booze, booze, laughing, booze, there’s no city named Queso?, booze, booze, Murphy’s, booze, booze, Sluggers, booze, booze, more dancing, booze, bagels, booze, cupcakes, booze, booze, napping because am old now, booze, booze, sexy toes, booze, Superbad is an AWESOME movie, booze, booze, tater tots, booze.

The End.

Surprisingly in an un-Kristabella like fashion, there weren’t too many crazy stories. There were many adult beverages had. There was lots of laughing. A dance floor full of sexy beeatches, including one lesbian, and a good time had by all.

But thankfully no one stepped on my foot without my remembering. I was not burned with any cigarettes. And I sent no inappropriate drunk texts.

My God! I’m turning into a fucking grown up! When the hell did that happen?

It was actually one of the best weekends of my life. And by far one of, if not the, best birthdays. And I have had some doozies.

Friday was actually pretty chill. I picked Julie up in the mess that is known as O’Hare Airport on a Friday night of a holiday weekend. Random of all random, Julie actually sat next to a guy on the plane who was best friends with the owner of the bar where I had mah partay. We were destined to have a good time. Fate (and Northwest Airlines) said so.

We just chilled at home on Friday night, resting our old bones for the weekend of drinking that was about to begin. Getting our drinking shoes all gussied up and ready to go. And if you believe that, you probably also believe that gullible isn’t in the dictionary.

We did stay at home. And we ordered pizza. And drank two bottles of wine.

Saturday I got us tickets for the Chicago River/Lake Michigan architecture boat cruise. If you’ve never taken this, I HIGHLY recommend it. I have gone on it twice and learned something every time. Chicago is just a great effing city!

Good thing the awesome skyline distracts from my fat arse and unwashed hair.

And the reason I love Julie and why she’s my BFF is because in an email exchange before she got here, she says “hey! College football starts this weekend! Let’s go sit in that bar in Millennium Park and drink beers and watch football.” Could there be a more perfect afternoon in September? No! Football? Good. Beer? Gooooooood.

AND! They had $9 32-ounce Bud Lights on special. Of which we had three. Before 5 PM. Which made us so drunk we had to get out the calculator on the cell phone to figure out how many beers we actually consumed. Because after 96 ounces of beer, simple math goes out the damn window.

EIGHT BEERS! In like TWO HOURS! And MICHIGAN LOST! To the OTHER ASU! A I-AA school! Could it be a more perfect afternoon?????

(By the way, that’s about how we were talking too. LOTS OF CAPS!!! LOTS OF EXCLAMATION POINTS!!! Lots of YELLING AT ANYONE IN A MICHIGAN SHIRT!!!)

So yeah, I was drunk before I got to my party. And it was my party, I’ll get drunk on 96 OUNCES if I want to. See?

I had an awesome time. Looked hot in my dress. (Not really. Could my face BE any fatter? Maybe I need to have surgery because I think I have the mumps or something. Maybe a full facial goiter. Jesus woman! Lay off the booze!)

And then apparently decided to flash the camera my bra at some point. Well it was a New Orleans type bar. And they did have beads. When in Rome.

We got kicked out of the upstairs around 11 and made it downstairs to realize they had a DJ. And that was all we needed to take over the make-shift dance floor. Which meant I decided to act 22 and drop it like it’s hot. And my old-lady legs are still recovering.

WineBook Club betches unite!

Apparently we’re practicing our best bend and snap! move.

Sthee? Wine turns my tongue purple. And wear some sunblock next time, jackass.

Sunday was the Cubs game and I had SO much fun. My brother and sister-in-law came out, sans kids, and we had a blast. I’ve never gone out or partied with them together. We’ve had a few drinks at their house, but never when they had no responsibilities. At least for the time being. You know, until they got back to Grandma’s and had to be adults again.

And boy did they party it up! It was so much fun! Kim ordered a Mai Tai (we’re Midwesterners. We don’t have many options besides light or regular for booze at baseball games.) And it was STRONG. She let it sit most of the game until the ice melted. And to get her to finish it, she and I played the Alphabet Game. You know, like the one from the Cosby Show? Where you have to name towns that start with each letter of the alphabet?

Yeah, sounds easier than you think. I’ve actually never played it while drinking. Your damn mind goes blank and all you can think of are state names or countries. Or in our case, you damn near convince yourself that there is a town called Queso and one called Xylophone City.

Or maybe we both just wanted to chug-a-lug. Drink ‘er down!

My brother. Who found the Alphabet Game highly entertaining. And also has made me never forget there is a town in Illinois named Quincy.

Monday was very low key. Julie headed back to the Land of 10,000 Lakes. And I hung out with Amber, who is a member of the National Champion Gaelic Football team. Congrats to the Seattle Gaels! And since we both tied one on on Sunday, it made for a very low-key Monday. Because we are both old now. And after walking to lunch and back, we were in desperate need of a nap.

And then we got wild and crazy! And went to see a movie! We saw Superbad. Which, I’m telling all of you, is like the funniest thing I have seen in a LONG time. Fucking hilarious! Go see it! Cause I said so!

And it really was the perfect ending to a perfect weekend. And I was so glad that she stayed the extra day to hang out.

And really, I should give up booze. You know, until the open bar on Saturday. And my real birthday in 10 days. Look out Arizona! Here comes the K Train!

All aboard?

Category: A Day in the Life of Me, Age is Just a Number, General, Hooch Hilarity | 9 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on August 30, 2007

I’m bursting at the seams! I am SO EXCITED!

Wanna know why?

1. Because tomorrow is Friday and the start of a long weekend!
2. This weekend is KJ Palooza! Celebrating my (almost) 30 years on this Earth. All. Weekend. Long.
3. Yes, more numbers.
4. I had a very, very nice flirty email exchange with Winky this afternoon. Giddyness ensued. He’s still got a bad case of KJ-itis.
5. My bestest biatch Julie is coming to town! For my birthday! And when the two of us get together, hijinks ensue.

So I thought I would show a photo collage of one of the last times she was in town and we decided to take in the White Sox/Twins game at Comiskey Park or the Cell or whatever the hell it is called these days.

See, all along the upper concourse of Sox park, there are photos and shit from the team’s history and yada, yada, yada, Go Cubs!

Well, when the two of us betches get together and alcohol is added to the equation, hilarity is the end result. KJ + JR + beer = hilarity.

Take a look.

Wanna share mah beer? Here. Have a sip.

Give us a kiss.

Get out! He said WHAT?!?

Coochie, Coochie, Coo.

Word, holmes. Nice play.

I’m sure all my internet friends are a little thankful they know me only through the computer. And not in person. Hell, I’m sure most of my friends right now wish they didn’t know me!

I will be watching the clock on Friday WAITING for the day to end. So the party can begin!

And don’t worry, there will be plenty of documentation from the weekend known as KJ Palooza. In case you have to miss out on the festivities. You’ll all be there in spirit!

Category: A Dash of the Crazy, A Day in the Life of Me, General, Hooch Hilarity | 9 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on August 29, 2007

A few days after I got my new do, I was sitting in my cube at work with my head down. (No, not sleeping. Reading my book. I reserve naps for under the desk, a la Costanza.) One of the women from the other side of the floor said to my cubemate “who’s sitting next to you now?” She didn’t realize I changed my hair color. And really, if you don’t see my face, why would you think the blonde girl dyed her hair dark?

She said some nice compliments, like pretty much everyone because they must be aware of my frail ego, but her big questions was “So, which one has more fun?”

And that got me thinking. Lightbulb! This could be a good social experiment. Which do have more fun? Blondes or Brunettes?

I’m here to break the news to the toe heads of the world. It’s brunettes. Well, when it comes to me, it’s brunette. By a freaking mile.

Ever since the drastic change, I have started to notice I’m getting a lot more attention. From the male persuasion.

Obviously it’s a lot more drastic to people who knew me as a blonde. But for everyone except my grandmother (who not so secretly told my mom she still hates my dark hair), they all LOVE IT! As do I.

I’ve noticed a lot more dudes checking me out. Like on the train, for instance. On my way down to the Bears game on Saturday, there was a guy I saw standing on the platform. Cute. Tall. Twelve. He was a good car length or more down the platform from me. And then crazy of all crazy, he ended up on MY car when the train finally came. And went in the same door. What ARE the odds?

And then Train Boy didn’t just follow me onto a train car, he full on stared at me. I’m not talking like make eye contact, look away. Full. On. Staring.

And I can’t say I didn’t like it. And thank jeebus for sunglasses, since I was staring right back.

After the game on Saturday night, my mom and I were hungry. And since there is like NOTHING around Soldier Field. And anything close is in the Loop, which freaking shuts down at 5 PM, we ended up walking a bit to a place we like that has good pizza. (Yes, I had PIZZA while I’m supposed to be on Weight Watchers. I figured mixed with the vat of wine it REALLY WASN’T GOING TO MATTER!)

We sat at the tables by the bar and were being helped by the weird looking waiter. Who was wearing sunglasses inside. At night. And had a ponytail. Anyway, he took quite a shine to ol’ KJ. Every time he came by, he rubbed my back. No. I’m dead serious. Every damn time. That never happened when I was blonde. I don’t know that that has ever happened.

The final piece of conclusive evidence was Sunday at lunch. After dress shopping. You know Sunday, when I didn’t shower and looked like I had been run over by a Mack Truck. Because I had just woken up from a six-day bender.

Anyway, Schwerer and I decided to hit up Red Robin for some chow. We had this cute 14-year old waiter. Really cute. We kept checking out his ass. He was all trying to be cutesy with me when I was ordering. Telling me that only girls in pink shirts (Schwerer) could order the Souper Sandwich combo. Har. Har. After ordering the ranch to come on the side, he asked “so you don’t want it on the sandwich?” And I responded “well, that’s usually what ‘on the side’ means.”

And I had him. Hook, line and sinker. He later came up, giving us his life story. (As if we ever asked. Just turn around Waiter Boy.) Asking us if we’ve ever been to Fridays (Rich just shot coke and rum out his nose). Because he had never been. Because they don’t have them in Alabama. (What?) And yada, yada, yada, he just moved here to go to a crappy community college. And Schaumburg scares him. And he hasn’t been to the city yet since he doesn’t turn 21 for a few more weeks. Sometime in September. Like me!

And then we dropped the bomb. We are 30. (Almost.)

And he said something that made me want to fold him up and put him in my purse for later. He said I look 20! Twenty! Two Zero. I’m sure he was looking for a good tip, but wow. He then backtracked (after we laughed in his face), and said more like 25. Which just led to more laughing. And then he cowered, with his tail between his legs, and gave us one last few of his cute arse.

So the results are in. It’s brunette all the way.

But maybe all the stares and attention might have something to do with always walking around with this face.

Because, yeah. I’d fucking stare at you too. CRAZY PERSON!

Category: A Day in the Life of Me, General | 11 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on August 28, 2007

I was going to write something very interesting and profound this evening. You know like a whole fucking post about a guy who winks at me that I have a crush on. Or about my cats. Or about George Wendt and beans. Because that is good shit right there.

But you know what? It’s fucking hot. AGAIN. Yes, I’m sorry to all of you in other parts of the country where it is/was hot for-evah. And I should be thankful for the breaks we had and the rain. Holy fuck, the rain of the apocalypse. Where is Evan Almighty when you need him? We could have used an Ark.

And I think it was hot last week. Being drunk almost 24/7 makes me not remember. Oh, and all I can remember is that I thought we were all going to die in the STORMS! Storms that broke old, old trees in half. Nay, snapped in half. And sent it into someone’s second floor of the house. (I don’t lie. Happened across the street.) (Did I just say nay?)

Actually, I remember it being really hot at least two of the days. But I was staying in air conditioning, so I did not care. And now? Am back in my damn hot apartment. Must I remind you about the candles?

So instead of something thought provoking or funny and seemingly interesting, I’m just going to tell you the random things that go through my mind throughout the day. Because I write them down. Mostly because all the booze has made be all kinds of forgetful.

1. Ha! I switched it up from bullets to numbers. Fooled you!
2. I looked at my spam comments today and I got a lot of spam about fly fishing. Is that because I talked about Winky and how he likes to fish? Or is it the Akismet spam filter telling me that Winky and I are meant to be? Like, maybe it’s kismet or something?
3. OK, that was pretty witty. If I do say so myself.
4. Which I will. Because I can.
5. And now this is just thoughts of what is going on in my brain at this very second. It’s scary in here.
6. People. PEOPLE! (Just wanted to make sure you were still with me.) Why have we not discussed the magic that is ballet flats? And why I have revolted against said shoe for so many seasons? Because I like to shove my tallness in people’s faces with my heels? (Not really, heels are fun.) Dudes! It’s like wearing slippers to work. Until they allow flip flops, this will be the way to go. Am in love with these shoes.
7. They also help when you have a bruise on top of your foot and anything touching it makes it hurt. I’m talking hurt like the hurt of having your nipple in a vice. Like a bruise the size of Rhode Island. (I’m tall. I have big feet.) A bruise that you have NO idea how you got. For the love of Christ, it looks like someone stepped on me! With the weight of 1,328 elephants! Woman, how on Earth do you not remember someone stepping on your foot? (Anyone out with me on Friday who may know the answer to this question would provide very useful.)
8. It was probably Jenna York.
9. You know what else is a sign that you were far too drunk for an entire six days? You have not one, but two (TWO!!) cigarette burns on your elbow. Fucking inches from EACH OTHER.
10. I’m seriously considering rehab.
11. I do remember some old dude buying me a beer. Maybe he stepped on me and/or burnt me.
12. God, I’m easily bought off.
13. I think I like the numbers better.
14. Do any of the ladies out there (holla!) think it is so funny that we are all so apologetic. Like today, walking out of the bathroom, I opened the entry door (no, not the stall door) at the same time as someone was coming in. And we’re both all “I’m sorry. Excuse me.” Neither of us did anything wrong.
15. In college, we took a Women’s Studies class where the professor pointed this very thing out. And I told myself I would never be like that.
16. I say sorry to inanimate objects if I run into them.
17. That professor also told us it was very important to NEVER say sorry if/when you’re involved in any kind of accident, regardless of fault. Saying sorry assumes blame. Which is a good point. I don’t think it would hold up in court though.
18. My friend Ang actually got rear-ended by that professor in the Safeway parking lot a few years later. First words out of Prof’s mouth? Yep. I’m sorry.
19. That same professor also told us how bad your bladder squishes down to half its original size when you have babies. Which would explain why my mom has to go every 37 seconds. When she’s dehydrated.
20. And now I must be off. And this was just filler. Because I like even numbers.

Category: A Dash of the Crazy, A Day in the Life of Me, General, Rants & Rants | 9 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on August 27, 2007

I think I mentioned somewhere on here in the last week that the San Francisco 49ers were coming to town to play the Bears. If I didn’t mention it, the San Francisco 49ers came to town to play the Bears last weekend.

Surprisingly, the 49ers have been to Chicago like at least once in the last five years, I think. At least four. Mainly, they’ve been here in each of the years I’ve lived back in Chicago. Which is great because friends come to town and they don’t have to pay for anything. And really, what is better than a free trip to see yours truly? (The answer is nothing.)

The team got in late Friday night, around 10. Which was all kinds of perfect because this girl right here was in desperate need of a nap after the week I had. Especially since I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to be sober once they arrived. (Hell, I’m not sure I was sober when they arrived. One good thing about drinking mass quantities of alcohol in consecutive days? One sip of wine and you’re buzzed.)

So I met them at the hotel. Which thankfully this year was in the damn city. And not in the ghetto. And it’s a hotel I’m all familiar with, seeing as the Seahawks stayed there twice last year and I drank plenty of booze in that hotel bar. (Sadly, that can be said for me in quite a few hotel bars across the country.)

Anyway, it was really great to see everyone. It gets easier and easier for me to see them year after year. Now, I’m only talking about certain people. There are people I am still friends with and have been since that fateful day on January 31, 2005. But there are some people that I hated with the heat of a thousand suns that I never thought I could like again. Or even want to be in the same room with. Like the security guy who followed me step for step after I got the boot. Like I was going to fucking steal something or go postal. With what? Were you afraid I’d jam you with a letter opener? Throw the Pittsburgh Steelers helmet at your head? What?

For the first year or two after, I had a hard time seeing everyone. And just being back in that environment. As much as I was happy where I was, I felt I was always going to be bitter about how I got fired. I didn’t want to see anyone that I remotely didn’t like. Or people who shouldn’t be there. Or new people. I just hated them all. (Except some of you. You know who you are.)

But now? I could fucking care less. I don’t care what I say to the new Vice President of Marketing. (I told him he should know who I am. I was a legend there. Open a media guide chief.) Or if I see people I once hated. It’s a little sad (or not), but I’m done with that part of my life (finally three years later) and I’m exactly where I want to be. I’m in a good place. I loved my time there, had great experiences and met some great people. But I couldn’t be happier to be out of there.

The people I hung out with and saw on Friday night are awesome and mean a lot to me and are my friends. (Even though most of them never comment. Lurkers.) And they all nailed it when they said that I looked happy. I am happy. I miss all of you, but I know that everything that happened, happened for a reason. And I’m pretty sure that if I had stayed there much longer, none of these people would still be talking to me. Because I probably would have thrown the St. Louis Rams helmet at them. After taking their knee out with the Super Bowl XXIII trophy. And the NFC Championship trophies look really heavy.

Well, maybe I’m not a complete grow-up. For one, after getting some free tickets and some free pregame passes for the 49ers sideline, I showed up decked out in Bears gear. And I also pissed off Dr. York’s twin daughters. Which might actually be the highlight of my life. Because really, your dad is still a jackass. Because as they were cluelessly calling Terry Donahue a genius, I told them that Terry Donahue is a jackass and I will never forgive him for what he did to Kirk Reynolds.

And after that? They turned around and left the bar. As did I. And proceeded to go home to bed and sleep happy.

Category: A Day in the Life of Me, Forty Whiners | 4 Comments »
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