If I win, send the voucher to Mrs Nutty as I can’t use it out here
xc

Mrs Hojo’s last blog post..Bubble and Squeak

I always win.

Even if I can’t win cause I am in Australia.

I met my husband while holding my girlfriends hair back while she vomited in the gutter out the front of a nightclub. She was very drunk. I was slightly. MPS was sober.

Kelley’s last blog post..You want crazy? I will show you mine if you show me yours.

I don’t have a story to share and will exclude myself from the contest. I just wanted to drop by and say “Hi” and “Congrats”.

Barbara Swafford’s last blog post..Come Out, Come Out, Where Ever You Are

Huh.

Sorry about that…I really thought it would just kind of…condense it or something.

Now I feel bad. You invite me into your blog and I just come on in and make a big mess and try to break it.

I’m just not a very good guest.

Jessica’s last blog post..Hey Paris!!! Pick me! Over here, Paris!

Ok, maybe a few times…a long, long time ago.

My friend and I were out in a bar, slightly inebriated and this guy kept hitting on me. Normally, this is flattering. Not in this case, though. We explained to him several times that we were trying to have a private conversation but he just wouldn’t leave…he said he was “just trying to conversate” with us. (For the record, the use of the word “conversate” is one of my biggest pet peeves…which might have something to do with the fact that it’s not actually a word.) Anyway, I gave in…”Fine! What would you like to talk about?” He said he just wanted to get to know me…at which point I launched into what is now known as “The Doughnut Speech” AKA instant annoying guy repellant. I grabbed his arm and began…

“Well, what I really like is doughnuts. Do you like doughnuts? I especiallylikethebavariancreamonesbutIalwayswonderaboutbearclawslikearethoseactuallydoughnutsoraretheysomethingelsebecauseIalwaysthoughtitwouldbecooltoownadoughnutshopbutit’skindoftrickybecauseyouhavetomakesureyou’reactuallysellingdoughnutsandwhatifabearclawisn’tactuallyadoughnutthenyou’dalmostbelikealiarorsomethingandIdon’twanttobeknownasliarsdoughnutshopIwantarealdoughnutshopyouknowwhatImeanwhichactuallycometothinkofityoucouldhavethesameproblemswithcoffeeyouknowwhatImeanbecausethere’slattesandcappucinosandmochasandsomepeoplejustwantaregularcoffeeandIthinkanhonesttogoodnessdoughnutshopshouldhaveregularcoffeelikeintheolddaysbutreallywhoamIkiddingbecauseIdrinklattestooIthinkthey’regoodbutIwanttobefaithfultothedoughnutshopwhatdoyouthink?”

At which point the guy grabbed his drink and walked away and we never saw him again.

WIN!

Anyway, it’s now been determined that the doughnut shop speech is the number one best way to get rid of a guy in a bar that refuses to be politely refused. My friends and I use it often

(I would have done this on video for you…it would have been WAY better on video….the speech has to be given at full speed, with hardly a breath taken…but I just came off of a 48 hour shift and truth be told, I’m not feeling very camera ready)

Jessica’s last blog post..Hey Paris!!! Pick me! Over here, Paris!

She went back with him to his dorm room. At some point in the middle of the night she woke up and had to go to the bathroom.

She was still trashed.

She went into his closet (thinking it was the bathroom) and she peed right in his laundry basket.

Sarah, Goon Squad Sarah’s last blog post..I Didn’t Even Say it Out Loud

there was the time I was caught amicably chatting up a lantern post at 2 a.m. on the night of my graduation dinner. After having dined out with my parents, I hit the town with some of my friends, where – or so I am told – it would seem that I danced on tables and was then escorted home. As my friends proceeded to look for my keys, the lantern incident happened. They still mercilessly tease me about it.

There is also the time that I walked home after a similar evening, in broad daylight. Somewhere along the line, I must have lost one of my (Ann Demeulemeester) shoes. So I must have clomped home on one shoe and crashed into bed, only to realize when waking a few hours later that the shoe was missing. After some fruitless searching, I ended up concluding that I did indeed lose it. Although I retraced my walk, I never found the shoe. Somewhere, a one-legged woman is hopping around in it?

And finally, there is the night before I left to meet the love of my life for the first time in the US. Panic set in as I guessed that this was it for me, no more turning back, so I went out and had a jolly night on a bottle or so of Lagavulin (I’m happy to report I now drink two glasses of wine and pass out, but in those days my liver was still young and strong). The next morning at 8 a.m. my parents were at the door, as I was still trying to fashion myself into something that resembled their daughter. As I rushed down the stairs, I keeled over and fell 10 steps down, spraining my ankle in the process. Limped downstairs to the car. My mother still fondly reminisces over the fact that they had to drive with the windows down to kill the stench of alcohol emanating from my pores.

On that note, I would just like to state for the record that I am now a recovering lush, who barely drinks.

lula’s last blog post..Florence