happensinVEGAS
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Tuesday, November 23, 2010
The Whale's Vagina
So a few weeks ago I took a trip to the whale's vagina, which believe it or not, is a name for San Diego that I didn't come up with. It also seems to accurately describe the kind of experience I have when I go. I hit the road on Saturday with a couple of my guy friends fairly early. We decided NOT to drink immediately when we got there, A. because it was noon and B. (most notably) we were already hungover from the night before. Maybe if we had grabbed a few road sodas the idea would have sounded better, but I'm only a fan of talking about drinking and driving, not drinking and driving. Although drinking and re-parking one block away is a different story, and, it should be noted that this happened on my last trip to San Diego. That "I'm only gonna break-break your break-break your heart" song was on, so I felt inspired. Anyway, we get there and decide to grab some burritos. Soon enough, we find out that it's our buddy's birthday; the friend we came to visit and stay with.
Post burrito, we decide it only make sense to pick up a 30 pack and 18 pack of brews on the way home. It was about 1:30PM at this point, so fair game. When we get back to the house, 3 more friends have arrived from Orange County & Pasadena, and we've officially shifted into reunion mode. One guy brought over a strange brandy that somehow tasted okay without being refrigerated.
Fast-forward a couple hours and almost 40 beers later, we end up at a happy hour with $5 pitchers! This is unheard of where I come from, and we had to celebrate. The last time I was in San Diego, my friend lived in the terribly bruh Pacific Beach AKA PB. He now lives in hippytown Ocean Beach, AKA OB. Let me give you 3 reasons why OB is rad:
1. Nobody follows seemingly obvious laws. Parking is unrestricted. That handicapped spot is closer to your house than the other FULLY open block next to it, go for it!
2. Everything is done in cash. This kind of sucks actually, but is easily over-shadowed by the fact that everything is cheap as shit. Top shelf mixed drinks were $3.50 at one bar. I felt like I was back in Africa.
3. WAY less bruhs. I was expecting that SDSU scene and pleasantly surprised to hang with a bunch of high-functioning stoners
It should be noted that one of the people I stayed with has taken up a very serious career. The apartment is dedicated to the growth and continuing knowledge of mushrooms. Not just psychedelic mushrooms either, he doesn't discriminate. Want more information? Grab one of the 6 books in the living room or open the fridge and observe at least 20 bottles of growing mushrooms.
Anyway, back to the story. We end up in this one bar that closely resembles an aquarium. This undersea bliss provided the cheapest drinks I've had in Amurrca. Since drinks were cheap, we bought a ton.
The next bar featured an Irish band playing Flogging Molly-type stuff. I don't remember the name of it, as I was in brown out stages by then, but they were AWESOME. I have some dark spots after they stopped playing, but I do remember meeting up with my cousin. She made the mistake of sober-living that weekend to comply with a diet, and instead, bought me at least 3 drinks that I did not need.
(PAUSE) This is getting a little longer than I planned, and I realize it seems like it may lead to something exciting, but don't get your hopes up. It doesn't.
My crush for the night couldn't hang and went home to lay down at around 12 or so. I say "couldn't hang" because he only did 10 hours of straight boozing, while the rest of us did 11 or 12. One of my friends was so blacked out he decided to make racist/out of context Southpark references, but I'm not even going to get into that. As everyone's going to bed, I combine two sleeping bags to make a little bed surrounded by the 6 other people sleeping in the living room. As much as I want to be slutty, I am NOT down for the group scene. I said crush earlier because I actually have a crush on him, so I was even less inclined to act retarded. We've had a sleepover before, but it was pretty uneventful. Besides that, we could hear super loud strange sex in the room about 2 feet from our heads. We just laughed and somewhat fell asleep.
Thinking back to the last time I saw crush/essentially the first time I met him: I just remembered that he left his belt in my room. Of course I'm dumb and I don't usually think like a super-insecure girl, but I later realized that I could have used the belt as desperation bait! Instead, I brought it back to him at my neighbors house right before he was about to head home. This was even more fail because I had just accidentally informed my neighbors of where he slept.
Anyway, the moral of this story is, if I would have had the slut mindset, I would have hung onto the belt. Just kidding, I hope that's not the moral. The moral is that OB is fucking RAD!
Post burrito, we decide it only make sense to pick up a 30 pack and 18 pack of brews on the way home. It was about 1:30PM at this point, so fair game. When we get back to the house, 3 more friends have arrived from Orange County & Pasadena, and we've officially shifted into reunion mode. One guy brought over a strange brandy that somehow tasted okay without being refrigerated.
Fast-forward a couple hours and almost 40 beers later, we end up at a happy hour with $5 pitchers! This is unheard of where I come from, and we had to celebrate. The last time I was in San Diego, my friend lived in the terribly bruh Pacific Beach AKA PB. He now lives in hippytown Ocean Beach, AKA OB. Let me give you 3 reasons why OB is rad:
1. Nobody follows seemingly obvious laws. Parking is unrestricted. That handicapped spot is closer to your house than the other FULLY open block next to it, go for it!
2. Everything is done in cash. This kind of sucks actually, but is easily over-shadowed by the fact that everything is cheap as shit. Top shelf mixed drinks were $3.50 at one bar. I felt like I was back in Africa.
3. WAY less bruhs. I was expecting that SDSU scene and pleasantly surprised to hang with a bunch of high-functioning stoners
It should be noted that one of the people I stayed with has taken up a very serious career. The apartment is dedicated to the growth and continuing knowledge of mushrooms. Not just psychedelic mushrooms either, he doesn't discriminate. Want more information? Grab one of the 6 books in the living room or open the fridge and observe at least 20 bottles of growing mushrooms.
Anyway, back to the story. We end up in this one bar that closely resembles an aquarium. This undersea bliss provided the cheapest drinks I've had in Amurrca. Since drinks were cheap, we bought a ton.
The next bar featured an Irish band playing Flogging Molly-type stuff. I don't remember the name of it, as I was in brown out stages by then, but they were AWESOME. I have some dark spots after they stopped playing, but I do remember meeting up with my cousin. She made the mistake of sober-living that weekend to comply with a diet, and instead, bought me at least 3 drinks that I did not need.
(PAUSE) This is getting a little longer than I planned, and I realize it seems like it may lead to something exciting, but don't get your hopes up. It doesn't.
My crush for the night couldn't hang and went home to lay down at around 12 or so. I say "couldn't hang" because he only did 10 hours of straight boozing, while the rest of us did 11 or 12. One of my friends was so blacked out he decided to make racist/out of context Southpark references, but I'm not even going to get into that. As everyone's going to bed, I combine two sleeping bags to make a little bed surrounded by the 6 other people sleeping in the living room. As much as I want to be slutty, I am NOT down for the group scene. I said crush earlier because I actually have a crush on him, so I was even less inclined to act retarded. We've had a sleepover before, but it was pretty uneventful. Besides that, we could hear super loud strange sex in the room about 2 feet from our heads. We just laughed and somewhat fell asleep.
Thinking back to the last time I saw crush/essentially the first time I met him: I just remembered that he left his belt in my room. Of course I'm dumb and I don't usually think like a super-insecure girl, but I later realized that I could have used the belt as desperation bait! Instead, I brought it back to him at my neighbors house right before he was about to head home. This was even more fail because I had just accidentally informed my neighbors of where he slept.
Anyway, the moral of this story is, if I would have had the slut mindset, I would have hung onto the belt. Just kidding, I hope that's not the moral. The moral is that OB is fucking RAD!
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