Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Here she is.........Miss Buckhannon!

Well I must say: now that the buzz of recruitment is over it's time to move on to more pressing matters of the college bar scene: The Miss Buckhannon Pageant. Oh lord, you have no idea. Actually it's not a real pageant, so you can stop getting your resumes and headshots ready- you don't want this crown.

Scene: The lights go dim, the orchestra is warming up. All the sudden the stage lights flash on and William Shatner, or someone that looks like him, comes to centre-stage. Oh, the crowd "ooo's" and "ahh's" for tonight....is the night! *Cue cheesy pageant music*

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: The 2006 Miss Buckhannon Pageant live from the K-Lounge along with satellite portions of our competition from stages at Ledbetter's and the Pickled Iguana!"

After a quick opening number to Sweet Cherry Pie the contestants are finally done straddling their boas and have returned back stage to get ready for the first part of this evening's competition....

Shatner: Ravishing! All ravishing! What lovely women! I cannot wait to see what unfolds in tonight competition!
Joan Rivers (really the lady with horrible emphysema): That's right Will! What an amazing bunch of ladies we have here with us tonight! All hailing from the bustling city of Buckhannon, WV, they are sure to razzle dazzle us with their talents and most of all- their beauty. Thankfully this is not a 'scholarship pageant' or we'd be in trouble!
Shatner: haha, these girls aren't hiding shit with their 4th grade reading level.
Joan Rivers: Alright, let's get down to business....we have narrowed down the contestants from 15 to 5. Let's begin with evening gown competition and then move directly to the talent competition.
Shatner: Good idea...wait...what? *covers microphone with hand* what the hell are you saying....I can't read lips bucko? OH OH.... *uncovers mic* I'm sorry folks, I would like to take this time to thank our sponsors! The Donut Shoppe, Wal-Mart (for these LOVE-ly decorations, and the Buckhannon Bowling Lanes- thank YOU for your sponsorship.
Joan Rivers: Well since we're thanking our sponsors- why don't we let our viewers at home know what our classy lasses are competing for?
Shatner: Oh you are a clever one aren't you?
Joan Rives: Oh you don't know the half of it. Look at my face- I am the mirror image of intelligence!
Shatner: oorrrr the mirror image of a woman who's been tucked and pulled to the point sheer madness. If your eyebrows got any higher you'd have two receding hairlines! But who's counting?!
Joan Rivers: *covers mic* I'm going to gut you like a fish after this shit is over...WELL here's our divine divas now!If chosen as our new Queen the lucky lady will receive $100 in coupons from the Phillip Morris Company to purchase cigarettes of her choice, along with a crown furnished by the local Burger King!
Shatner: oh fabulous! First up....we have Miss Main Street!

Ok cut. This is where I come in. It's my blog therefore it's my freakin' pageant. And I'm commentating the damned thing. So really that was all set-up for this crazy ass semester we've been having. The whole point of this- as with most of my past writings- is to call some people out- and since it's the Buckhannon Pageant.....you guessed it, we're going to be talking about townies and bars. College students to count in this too because we are transient townies whether we like it or not...at least it's not permanent. We might as well just call this 'The Townie Trend Spot'....I know you are on the edge of your seats; let's get down to business:


Up first on our runway (ahem, Main Street) is Miss Havisham.
I swear- it's not because I just finished reading Great Expectations in my Lit class....it's because this chick at the K-Nasty looked like Miss H. It was like I took every possible speck of what I had imagined her to look like from the reading and threw it on the corner bar stool with a pilled wool sweater and a Virginia Slim 120. Heavily blue lined eyes and white shadow completed the look along with 80's throw-back black stirrup pants and 10 bangle bracelets. I just don't understand why women cannot dress and apply make up to their age. It doens't mean looking old. If you apply makeup like an 18 year old you're going to like an 18 year old.....only aged 75 years.

Oh my gosh, everyone look...it's "I can't dance and wear mom pants" lady. *Smacks head* Ok so again we're at the K-Nasty. These three women (I'm guessing this was a 'girls' night out?') are downing 'cute little fruity' drinks and smoking cigarettes like they have never seen one before. Not to mention they're Kools. You'll get to smoke a cigarrette out of your throat way before the Vagina Slim's Lady. So there's a rule at the K-Lounge: no glassware on the dance floor. Why? Why do you have to do that to them, oh wise owners of K-Lounge? Don't you know people love to drink on the dance floor. $20 bucks people consume more alcohol dancing than they do sitting at the bar. And I'm shocked that drunk people can't pass sobriety tests when they get pulled over. I'm driving by thinking, "Hey didn't I see her dancing earlier?" So anyhow, these three chicks are dancing and they're doing this weird tootsie roll-esque thing where they slowly invert their legs and do the "Whoomp There It Is" round about thingie. They obviously must know what "it" is that we all were "whoomping" to back in junior high. Not to mention, if you ever wondered just how one wang chungs ask them, they were wang chunging all night. The key thing here is the outfits. I gotta hand it to them- they weren't dressed like slutty moms or anything, but notice how i said moms....they were all about the layering and the mom pants. Gold shiny tacky fabrics and wrap around sweater sets. Ugh....

Before we leave the K-Nasty, let's not neglect the people in the bathroom. First off: if you really have to go- and I stress really really have to go- don't worry about putting your cigarette out. There's asstrays IN each stall. The stall door is acutally about shoulder height to me. If you're talking to someone in the bathroom you gotta make sure they're atleast 3 feet away or they're gonna see over the top. How classy is that?! Alright, so I really really have to go. My roommate and I walk in and there's my favorite scene playing out: a chick fixing her makeup that has traveled down to her cheeks (from dancing?) and the token bathroom find- the girl who's crying. Most times we don't care why, who, or what self-inflicted situation she's gotten herself into this time. All you know is that she's crying AND she's in your way. What to do? What to do?

Me: Hey...umm excuse me...er..uh...sorry..me, bathroom....please?!
Her: *sniff sniff* Oh I'm sorry...*sniff sniff*
-----she doesn't move----
Me:Ok...don't mind me...*shoves past* hope everything's ok
---so i get to the stall and close the door and notice the level of the door. Great. I can see her...she can see me. FAB-ulous. Not to mention, I NEVER sit on public toilets. I have great balance and can hover with the best of 'em. But this door is SO low. and the distance between the door and the edge of the seat is literally a foot and a half. Oh god...ok...STOP CRYING I CAN'T CONCENTRATE! Ah....much better. Ok...now that I'm washing my hands I am home free. Oh no wait. It's let me tell you why I'm crying girl. OK she's a sweet girl. I was sincere when she was telling me what was going on. I genuinely cared- I've been there before. Fucking boys. But then later they're seen talking again and all that crying in the bathroom means nothing. I dont know it's none of my business. I just feel like I wasted 6.32 minutes listening to that shit if you're not going to do anything about it. Kick him to the curb girl or stop bitching.

Ok...just across the road is the new hot spot in town. The Pickled Iguana. Watch out there's a door man. It only seats about 15 people and there's enough room in the back for about 4 to play pool. BUT they let about 40 people in. Mad house. Shitty watered down drinks. That's why whenever at a place like that, I always go for bottled beer. You're guaranteed 12oz of uniform hops and barley. I've been there once...for about 10 minutes because the bartender was freakin me out and there were a bunch of bikers coming in. My favorite part about the Pickled Lizard is hands down the bathroom. Why you ask? Well, for one it's clean, or at least it was the first weekend it opened. There's hairspray and body splash on a little shelf too which is wonderful if you smell like a bar and hate the smell of smoke. After that the whole place goes to hell in a handbasket.
The bartender......apparently believes that if they make it in your size it looks good. She apparently does not think she's a centimeter over a size 8 either. She has a tattoo of a butterfly on her left breast...which she bases her outfits off of because they are low cut and way too tight. She even found a strapless bra for those melons! I'm impressed, seeing how I myself am far from flat-chested. However, it looks as though she took the Aqua Net company serious and literally has her hair so shellacked it could probably be throw into the ocean and yield a nice day's catch.
Next- the bar-top dancers. Will ye ever learn? Just because they have high ceilings does not mean it's a definite invitation to dance on the formica. When two drunk girls get on the bar it's like watching a drunk seasoned Cirque de Soleil performer walk the tight-rope. They begin with grabbing each other in ways they'd normally slap a man for attempting in between shouts of "I'm SO wasted." Then sporadically they stumble to the left and then to the right, and almost fall off before some dirty old man "accidentally" grabs them to "keep them from fallng." Ew. Dance ON the floor. What goes up must come down. I'd rather come down about 5 feet than fall almost 10 feet to the ground (when you had the height of the bar and your height).

Moving on, fashionistas we have so much to discuss!

Ledbetter's: my bar of choice. I heart Dusty and Casey. Good times are always in the equation as the night unfolds. So after I showed the door man my bank card for my ID (hey at least he knows I'm not skippin out on my tab!) I find my license and we are admitted. What? $3 pitchers? We'd be much obliged! We find a table and start drinking. And all the sudden I get this creepy feeling that we're being watched...oh wait we are. It's the jealous bitches at the front table. First off I didn't hear the song "Boom I got your boyfriend" playing when I came in, so turn the fuck around and stop looking at us- two guys and two girls sitting at the same table?! News flash- it happens.
I love it when girls talk about people and look at the person they're talking about while whispering about them. Who taught you to gossip?! See, the way I learned it was you did the "point and laugh" thing with out the point. If you're looking at me while you and your ugly friend are talking about me chances are I'm gonna see what you're doing. Why don't you just skip the bullshit and come tell ME why you just have to talk about me and my hot roomie. It's so obvious....and it's not cool. If I want to talk about someone this is how I do it:

*I'm sitting at the bar with Court and all the sudden I see someone do something be it strange, slutty, funny, cute or otherwise.....*
1. Take inventory of what I am seeing (in my head, not by glaring, staring, or busting out into immediate laughter- gossipping is done with more than one person- don't cheat them out of a hilarious retard making a fool of themself...they deserve to know too! If you gossipped alone it would just be 'observing.'
2. Give Court a nod as to say "hey I have something to tell you"
3. Court leans in, or if they are far enough away not to hear, I just start talking
4. I explain the 'object' and my feelings on it
5. We laugh our asses off....or another appropriate response. Laughter is sure to follow 99.99% of the time. The key here, is that the laughter is timed perfectly. We laugh only after leaning back to our normal places and take a slight pause, then erupt into a loud laugh.

Notice how I didn't mention anything about pointing, getting closer for a better look, or totally swinging around on your barstool to alert them to what you're doing. I'm not gonna lie- we talk about everyone. I have never been shy about that one. But if you're going to do it have some tact. One time I was at the bar and this person- who shall remain nameless for those of you with bad deductive reasoning skills- was talking about me and the best part of all was that I had my back to her getting a drink at the bar and she was literally right behind me. There's only about 4 Courtneys on this campus: one is me, one is my diamond- who is beside me- and the other two were not there. She also used my last name and my office. So yeah it was definitely me she was talking about. Nothing says "you're busted bitch" like being stopped mid-sentence when you come face to face with the person you are bitching about. Then as if it was a natural reaction, she hugs me and tells me how I'm doing such a wonderful job! Get a life....transparent bitch.

OK so back to the staring problem at Ledbetter's, these two girls who were talking about us did the chain-reaction gossip. This means they say something, the other person looks, then she looks again, then they tell someone else and they look, she looks, the other girls look, and bam...everyone within a 2-mile radius can see they're talking about someone. And just by following their line of vision you can see that it is us for sure. It took everything I had not to make a turn around motion with my finger then flip them the bird. I wish people still had polaroid cameras so I could have taken a picture of us and then dropped it off at their table with my autograph on it. Hey, I will be famous one day....

My next favorite townie- the ones who cannot seem to stay on the bar stools. It's as if they just forget they're not sitting in a normal chair. Most barstools you have to step up a little bit to get into them. These barstools in question have high backs on them and people still manage to fall off them. I dont get it. And when these babies fall they fall loud and hard. I also enjoy the person that falls out of the barstool then looks around real quick to find someone to blame it on and then goes, "Duuuuude...you knocked my stool over. What the hell?!" More like, "Duuuude....your candy ass is too drunk to sit in a chair, put your nasty exposed thong back in your jeans, go home and let someone else sit at the bar you waste of space."

Next up: Sage Coach.....is it just me or should it be STAGE Coach? There's western shit all over the place. Someone told me that the owners last name was 'Sage' and if so fine...makes total sense. This place used to be a theater then a bar called Club Chemistry- and trust me there was no chemisty unless you were 15 and liked to dance on a stripper pole while your dad's co-workers bought you shots all night. (It got busted and shut down.) So anyhow, big place, kinda nice. Big dancefloor- stripper pole is gone. The bartender is about 5 foot nothing, weighs about 85lbs, and I shit you not she could give Chuck Norris a run for his money. Super nice, but she doesn't take any shit.
They have this bar top table that is set out from the actual bar and it's like a run way for trampy townies. I especially vomitted in my mouth when two girls - one fat- and one with a skirt on hopped on that table and started dancing/stripping/groping/chugging drinks. It's bad enough that her friend's shirt keeps climbing up to show her stomach, but seeing that this girl's ass as she parades around on the table in a skirt is gross. Townies are gross.


So who's my winner? Who gets to be crowned Miss Buckhannon 2006? Come on now.....you think I could honestly pick between so many over-qualified candidates? Haha...not a chance.

Monday, February 20, 2006

Hitting close to home....the real off my bid list

Back by popular demand: here's the real deal kids....



#1: People who talk shit about my sisters in our Suite. Come on....are you kidding me. Think what you want, you're fully entitled to your own opinion. But do not talk shit on one of my sisters. Especially not my granddiamond Carrie. WHO does not like her?! If I could have gotten away with it I woulda stole all of your invites. Off my bid list...obviously.




#2: The "I just got out of gym class"girl. I know this sounds entirely stuck up and snobbish- but dude, Old Spice couldn't take care of that stank. Uh....oooooffff my bid list.



#3:Speaking of stank....this one is coming from a year or so ago. Ok, we're all nervous, hell we are prob more nervous than you are...but we still keep it together. You on the other hand did not. And daaa-yum. You think keeping a straight face when a senior citizen goes down in Wal-mart's parking lot is hard? This was 100 times harder. The old person probably can't hear you...acutally they probably can't see you either; but the "source" can definitely see and hear you. That was miserable.


#4: "Hopefully they won't find out _______ (insert terrible or nasty event) girl." This girl may be super nice, heck you might acutally think she's a great fit. Until the day after the second rounds of parties. Then it's like "she did what?! With who?! On what street?! Who drove by?!" Yeah all kinds of wrong. Take a hint from Paris Hilton on list #1: if you really have all that money, buy a decent reputation...or hook up in non-public places. Off my bid list. (That's a picture of Main Street, Buckhannon)

#5: "If I dance like a hoe maybe they'll notice me girl." No we won't. You'll just draw attention to your freak-nasty dancing. Here's a tip- the next time you're dancing and this guy comes up behind you don't lean forward and grab the nearest support beam in the basement. Turn around and slap him- who the fuck does he think he is coming up behind you like that? Eww. It's nice that you have long arms....but no one asked you to be the turnstyle at Chi Phi to help keep losers out. If that's the case then I think you'll serve better at the front door and not in the basment corner. Get off my bid list.

#6: The bitches who just have to scream everytime "their song" comes on. Gosh I hate these people. Most fraternities play the same songs over and over. Why? Because it's their house and they can do whatever the fuck they want. Chances are if a brother likes a song- you're gonna hear it ...a lot. So if you like that song....awesome. You have something in common. Maybe you should IM him about it Sunday morning....nah he probably won't give a shit. Seriously though, no one likes a screaming drunk bitch. If dogs can hear your high-pitched squeaking that puts the sound barrier to shame, then we definitely aren't going to be interested. Go away.


#7: The Lush.....do I even need to go into this? Ok I will. I absolutely LOATHE this chick. Normally I wouldn't give you a beer, but I am feeling like I should be nice tonight. Karma's a bitch so I wanna keep on her good side. Ok, so you ask for a beer, cigarette, couple squares of toilet paper because your stall's empty- fine. That's the end of it. No I don't want to be way-super-best-friends. Why? Because I saw you coming a mile away bitch, that's why. It's a beer today, a cute shirt tomorrow, $20 bucks here, a place to crash there.....then you took my man and I hate you. You think you have your system all figured out: ask her, then get another beer from this guy, flirt with his friend to make him jealous so he'll give you more beers to make you think he's the cooler friend, then you come back to me 5 beers and a runner in your pantyhose later because you're out of beer and want a ride home. Start walking, if you woulda put out earlier you'd be home by now, or at least in bed- maybe not yours but hey beggars can't be choosers. And I however, choose to keep you off my bid list.


#8: The girl who thinks she going home with your best guy friend. As if I would let that happen. It's the shoes, it's the ugly shirt, it's the fact that your eyeliner is on your upper lip. You're drunk. And I know him- he'll chew his arm off tomorrow before he woke you up to leave. Did you miss those death stares I was giving you? It wasn't because I wanted him for myself. It's because you're gross. I usually pick who he goes home with anyway...because I'm great at setting people up. Take a number....that's low on my bid list. Oh wait...you're not on it anywhere.



#9: The girl who thinks she can make out with a guy my friend is dating and get away with it because they're locked in a room. Haha, think again my skanky sad excuse for a human being. This one is so closely related to the #8 and #9. It's so funny because it's like she had been stalking her prey for weeks. Just when his woman leaves town she swoops in like an owl on a field mouse and bam. He's wasted- and probably was never 100% faithful to begin with, but he and my girl have been having a good past couple of months. This slut was probably holding the beer bong and it was probably someone's 21st- so all the more reason to get really fucked up. This guy is on his way upstairs to call it a night when she follows him in because she "left her coat in his room" and then...we don't need to go any further. So back to the rest of the party- we saw your ass go up those stairs after him. We also heard you screaming that you were gonna land him tonight, in between your screaming out "I LOOOOVE THIS SONG." Also- you just forgot that the only person out of town is his girlfriend. And we're gonna tell. Good luck....you're going to have such an awesome reputation- an awesomely slutty reputation. Off my bid list.

#10: The game ender. This girl is so obnoxious that she can't see there's a game going on. Be it Superbowl, baseball, whatever. Nothing pisses me off more than a bitch who keeps interrupting my beer pong game. "Oh you want this ball? Don't you need two to make it work?HAHAHA" Just ask Lance Armstrong. He doesn't need two to make it work and neither do we- I need at most one beer pong ball- two is ideal. But it's been done before with one. I will let that drunk bitch have one....but when she takes the second one and then says the same lame-ass joke about needing two balls, it gets ugly. I didn't ask for a guest or celebrity shot. If I had, it woulda been someone like Kobe or Jordan. Not you. How many fingers am I holding up? Oh Oh wait there she goes *everyone's head follows a body collapsing on the floor* ..... you're on the floor now aren't you? Oh yep you sure are. Stay there until the game is over.

#11: The girl that obviously needs to go home. Ok so it's her fault she drank so much. But it's embarrassing to her to make her stay there and get more wasted when she was done hours ago. There's pictures falling over, games being interrupted, people grinding on her, she's just falling over again and again. Take her home. She's yelling to go home. Take her ass home. We're tired of picking up cups and apologizing for her. You're a horrible person for putting your friend's welfare below your quest to have a good time.

#12: The girl that keeps shoving a camera in your face and yelling, "take a picture of my best friend and I!!!!" How many fucking best friends do you have? And do they know that you pass that term around like it's nothing. I have maybe 3 best friends. Why because they're my BEST friends. There are tons of other people that are my favorites and I love them dearly, but my best friends are my best friends. Also- how have you not dropped that camera a million times? I don't want to take your damned picture. I want you and your beer breath to take about 10 steps back and stay the hell away. I especially love it when you take a picture for someone and they look at the LCD screen and go, "no no that sucks take it again!" No please, no would you mind? Just Take it again. How bout you take a bitch slap. That's what I think of you and your ten million best friends. You are drunk and sweaty from dancing. No photographer in the world can make you look good. Oh you also spilled beer down your shirt....or is that sweat? Get off my bid list.

#13: The girl who bumps into you and in the process spills a drink on you. You're asking to get told off or hit in the face. Keep ahold of your beer. If you can't then don't drink it. That's a red flag for "I'm drunk." You have no idea how much I spend on clothes. I understand accidents happen. But you can't even stand up. Or even worse, you bumped into me on purpose. Then you're gonna get your ass kicked. Let's say I pissed you off first, that does not warrant you ruining an innocent outfit. Unless you're wearing hoe boots in any color but black or brown, no one deserves that to happen to their clothes. I'd much rather have a word match than have something ruined. We'll arm wrestle, but if you think it's funny or cute to spill something on me or drop a drink and break a glass- think again. You will be face down out in the snow. This one time, a stupid girl did this to one of my sisters, and before she knew it her off white shirt was red with jungle juice. That's worth the alcohol abuse. Just a warning...duct tape your beer to your hands or you're going to get soaked. It's like throwing stones in the old days, but we throw beers. And we also threw your bid away.