Monday, August 8, 2011

I Need A Bloatation Device...Or To Simply Stop Drinking and Eating

Being bloated sucks. Like, fucking sucks. I feel that for some reason, I get more bloated than the average moron. It always happens at the most inconvenient times. Like when I'm out at a bar, or with a guy, or the worst,  in my fucking swimsuit.

This one time I was at this bar in a college area and i was incredibly intoxicated and I felt the bloating sneak up, like a fucking cheetah. And of course, I never expect when said bloating will happen, but I was very unprepared for that bitch to come. I was wearing an uber tight dress, and knew instantly I had to run to the ladies room.

I always think that I can somehow "push" out the evil bloatation, so being as drunk as I was, I tried to smash myself against the bathroom wall and the toilet paper dispenser. I immediately am thankful that I am drunk enough to realize that this would be incredibly inappropriate and awkward to do in a public area, so the privacy of my own bathroom stall seemed decent.

I don't really understand how this frequent bloating is always such a common factor in my life, but I have a feeling it has to do with my constant digestion of carbohydrates (my weakness) or over consumption of alcoholic beverages. I would go with the latter, but I love carbs so much, that wouldn't really surprise me if that was the clincher. I could eat an entire loaf of bread with butter and still not be satisfied.

Mischa Barton should watch her carb intake as well

I promised that I would talk about my experiences in Kirkland, so I'll go over that briefly. The first time I visited Kirkland was a sloppy one. I went with PCP and Sweetheart. We went to prefunk at our friends. I had my usual prefunk item, a liter of cheap white wine. I don't know why I insist on always drinking white wine. One time I did a power hour with a liter of white wine and was not let into the bar and carried home by my friends. Choo Choo! Back to Kirkland, PCP and her friend bought a fifth of Absolut and put it in the back of the trunk of my car. We parked and opened the trunk, the fifth rolled out of the back and smashed into a bagillion pieces. So we obviously had to run to the gas station to pick up Four Lokos. WHOMP WHOMP WHOMPP. I don't remember leaving the house to go to the bars. We go to this bar called Timeout, and buy drinks. I end up giggin' with some blonde trick. I'm semi blacked out by now. Then we venture on over to Tiki Joe's, which Sweetheart told us, we can never go before midnight. Now I understand. The place is small and compact, but everyone goes there after Timeout. By this time, PCP and I are both blacked out, and we have to enlist her little brother, Alfredo Cheese, to come pick us up and take us back to PCP's house. I told Alfredo that I would buy him donuts, which I still have not done.

Note to self: Buy Alfredo a box of Krispy Kremes

The second time I went out to Kirkland bars I didn't black out, but I was incredibly drunk. Tuesdays through Thursdays at Timeout they have two dollar well drinks. Which is absolutely mortifying and deadly. I bought two double Pineapple and Rum drinks. And then another two after that, obviously. While I was downing my drinks, I noticed an Orca whale on the dance floor. I thought that they were an endangered species, so we were in for a treat. Now this girl wasn't obese, and I don't really know why we started calling her an Orca whale, but maybe it was in the way she was dancing. She was bobbing her ass up and down like a tidal wave and acting like she was the best dancer in the bar. FALSE. So that was our entertainment at Timeout for a good chunk of time. There was also a guy there who was absolutely gorgeous. Sweetheart knew him from high school I believe. He looked like Chris Brown, popppinnnnnnn'. Anyway, all the pussies at the bar were following him around like catnip. I went outside to have a fag, and overheard girls talking about CB going to Tiki Joes and how they had to go introduce themselves. I wanted to burn our their eyeballs with the rest of my smoke. So we venture over to Tiki Joes and meet some gentleman who insist on buying us "Skittles" shots. This was after I bought my friend and I double Whiskey Sours. Fuck me running, I am feeling genuinely wasted. So I go up to the bar for shots, and CB plops right next to me. He asks me to buy him a shot. I tell him "No, and fuck you." Because number one, I'm wasted, number two, I hate men who know they're hot shit and can manipulate any stupid pussy to buy them drinks and do whatever they want. How infuriating. I AM WOMAN HEAR ME ROAR. Whomp. We end the night getting hot dogs at a place that was open late. I think my wiener was a concoction of cream cheese and BBQ sauce. It was heaven in a bun.

So a snippet of advice to my fellow readers:
. Do not eat a fuck wad of carbohydrates before wearing that "little black dress," or you'll end up leaning over a hard surface to "push" out that bloaty bitch.
. Don't let a CB look alike try to get your drunk ass to buy him drinks.
. Orca whales are known to make an appearance at bars, save Shamu!


  1. Last time a boy asked me to buy him a drink I ripped his head off and tore out his beating heart with my bare hands.

    True story.

  2. Al wants donettes, not krispy kremes

  3. fucking brilliant advice!

  4. bwcmf: Thanks a bunch! I like to think that I am very knowledgeable when it comes to bloating and other bodily functions. I'm not sure if that's something to be proud of, but we'll roll with it anyway.