Before moving to Los Angeles I was living in central New York where I am from originally. I have lots of great memories from there, and here are a few from my last epic moments there.
Moments With Friends:
On my last night out with my crew from Utica, NY I really out did myself. We all did. This is a group of people who I lived about an hour from but became very close to. I have been friends with them for a few years now and love them all like my crazy drunken extended family of lunatics that they are. We went to the bar we always go to, on the weeknight we always go, did shots of things we always do, danced around like the waste case white girls we are, and stole things from people we don’t know. Obviously, it was an excellent and very classy evening for us. After drinking all of the alcohol Utica had to offer I left the bar with my two girlfriends to go to an after party with three guys. Basically as soon as we got to the house we decided we no longer had any interest in being there. The guys were all kind of creepers. How does that always happen? When you’re at the bar, the guy seems totally normal and then as soon as you are away from the bar setting you realize he has an extremely high chance of being a future pedophile. I do have a theory that may be a little crazy, but here me out. It may, just may have to do with the alcohol. It’s up to you if you’d like to believe this crazy theory of mine or not. So, we started calling people for a ride. In the mean time it was only right that we seize the moment and cause as much destruction as possible. It was a house of a bunch of guys in their 20’s and they had plastic fruit everywhere. What guys have plastic fruit as décor around their house? I couldn’t let that be so we obviously had to destroy all plastic fruit in sight. It was like someone had just smacked open a piñata filled with plastic red grapes in that kitchen once we were done. What is it about alcohol that just makes people destructive? I’m normally not one to destroy though. I’m more of your happy, dancing, fist pumping and occasionally stealing from strangers type of drunk. So going with my usual drunken characteristics I moved onto stealing. We were basically quarantining ourselves to the kitchen because we didn’t want to socialize with anyone. So we did what any wasted, hungry, and bored girls would do; started stealing all of their food. While doing this we found a camera on the counter and started taking pictures of ourselves destroying their corny decorations and stealing their food. Yes, we are indeed the greatest criminals around. We destroy, we steal, we give you the photographic evidence. Our ride finally got there and we left. I consider this night an extreme success. Not only because of the fun events that lead us through the night but also that I’m able to recall this much of the story. I normally come up with a blank slate after approximately 12 midnight when I’m with that crew. Thanks for a memorable last night in Utica girls. Cheers.
Last Moments Of A Crazy Person:
I might be alone on this one, but do you ever imagine yourself in a movie setting or a TV show where you are having what you think is a major life moment? Like if it were happening in a movie there would be a slight breeze blowing your hair as the sun sets, and Coldplay is on in the background. I had lots of these moments before moving. Trying to be sentimental, you know? See, I am emotionally stunted so when I want to have an emotionally epic moment I need to picture it as a movie. But it never works like it does in the movie, you know? Like as I was leaving my room for the last time in my parent’s house where I had grown up I decided it should be a movie moment. I would take one last walk around remembering great childhood moments, look out the window and see reflections of my childhood below, walk to the door, take one last look, and then close the door perfectly in unison with the climax of the The Fray song playing in my head as I shed a single tear. You know, perfect movie scene exit. Instead, I walked around, noticed the giant hole in the wall I had been covering with posters for years that my parents would inevitably make me pay for, looked out the window and saw a dog taking a shit by our mailbox, walked to the door, took one last look and slammed my finger in the door while closing it and screamed bloody murder before turning around and tripping over my suitcase.
I shouldn’t be allowed out in public.
I shouldn’t be allowed out in public.
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