Fail, fail, fail, fail.
My experiment to get drunk, not fat did not go as planned last night.
Or…it did, since I drank no beer which is what I set out to do for a few weeks.
(Thought the night I wrote that other post, the boyfriend came home from a BBQ with a six pack of PBR and without even thinking I took the one he offered me. My resolve lasted two hours! Record setting fail.)
Last night a bunch of us went out for a friend’s birthday. I was resolved to not drink beer even though I have about $80 to last me til payday on Friday. The bar we convened at serves it’s signature cocktail in a giant mason jar. I fucking love drinks in mason jars. I love drinks in any sort of weird container. Glasses shaped like cowboy boots, copper mugs, fishbowls, I love them all. I’m a sucker for them.
Therefore, I started the night off with this:
That is a shit ton of bourbon, some other alcohol and then a whole lot of sugar.
So by not drinking a god damn beer, which would have been 5 dollars cheaper, I drank this monster sugar beast which contained god knows how many calories.
We then moved on to everyone’s favorite neighborhood strip club/dive bar, Sassy’s. No birthday is complete until you’ve seen bored, tattooed strippers flail around in mis-matched bra and panty sets.
(I LOVE strippers but for the love of god, ladies, put a little effort in. It looks like you got to work, pulled off your jeans and ironic Motley Crue tank top and hopped up in stage in your Target bra and Forever21 panties. That don’t even match! Gah! That said, there are some fantastic girls who work there that I adore and kick ass at what they do.)
I decided that instead of a tallboy, I would have a rum and coke. Because more sugar was obviously what I needed.
Then a friend bought everyone a round of whiskey shots. That was the best caloric decision of the night, given that whiskey is only around 73 calories.
But I followed it up with another rum and coke. Though to my credit, there was so much rum in both drinks that I doubt I even got very much coke.
At this time, after having a girl force me to look into her lady folds up at the rack, I decided I needed tator tots. Add to my calories for the night a basket of greasy potato nuggets. Excellent call, Sweetbird!
After my tots I then gave my last ten dollars in cash to a dancer only because she could make her ass cheeks bounce by flexing them one at a time. I’m intensely jealous of this ability as well as booty popping, clapping and any other form of doing cool shit with your ass.
Broke and drunk, we called it a night and rode up the never ending hill home. Sure, Portland has hills. Slopes…inclines. Whatever, seemed really hard last night.
Upon arriving at home, I made myself a vegan grilled cheese sandwich with fake bacon and ate some cookies.
What have we learned here? That giving up beer will not make me less fat. Drinking liquor makes me more drunk and more prone to getting the munchies.
New plan: just work out more.
Okay, so enough with trying to pass of my drinking as a health experiment. Back to fashion and beauty. I got nothing though so it’s up to Lou!