Saturday January 24
Directly following Target tonight, I had a three hour production meeting for the company I am doing PR for: White Lion Studios. I had to go a pick up some guy on my way to the meeting because he doesn't have a car or something like that. I was skeptical because I don't like picking up strange men I don't know and riding with them to a meeting I don't know two shits about. For all I knew, I could've been walking into a swingers convention and held against my will. Not that I would be too opposed. They call me their PR intern, but I'm heading their PR efforts so I don't know we'll see. So I went to this guys house and sat outside for five minutes before texting the bossman and asking him if I should ring the doorbell to this strange house. He sent back yes. So I walked up to the house. No doorbell. Swell. I knocked and a very angry dog on the other side started barking at me. A man on the other side screamed at it and then cracked the door and said I'll be right out. His name was Marcelo and he had a strong and heavy Puerto Rican accent. He was nice, and noticeably older. It was just awkward. Then we couldn't find the meeting location. It was in a local restaurant that the company rented out for the meeting. It was so hard to find, but we did find it eventually. Walking in the meeting was just starting and we introduced ourselves and I gave my piece on what I'm going to be doing with the company and blah blah blah. Then I found out that Marcelo was on my team in graphics and campaigning and I was kind of thankful I had the car ride to get to know him a little bit. We're meeting for coffee this week to discuss ideas. I can't discuss further what went on in the meeting because I signed a non-disclosure agreement. All I can say is that I am working on promoting a certain show that is currently in production.I like half of the company at this time. The other half are kind of out there, or too arrogant for me to handle at the moment. I zoned out way too much during the meeting, looking forward to what the night was going to bring me.
Boy oh boy. I'm just going to get into it. Yesterday my world traveler friend told me about her birthday party tonight at a brand new night club in the Seneca Niagara Casino called Club Stir. She had a reserved table with bottle service and it was her and her friends from work. She invited me to come as well. Why would I say no to that? Why would anybody in their right mind?
I looked hot tonight. Like really hot. Like I would do me. I had on these tighter maroon-purple pants and white shirt with blue and grey polka dots and grey shoes with blue laces. My hair was gelled to perfection, contacts in, teeth shiny. I went to the casino and parked on the ramp around 11:15 p.m. I took a huge gulp of the Hypnotiq I bought yesterday and walked in. I walked like I owned the place. Blame the French liquor. I didn't even get ID'd to go onto the casino floor. I don't look that old. I met up with my friend who's party it was. (From this point on, I'm just going to use her first name: Katherine, because honestly she won't care, she's a bro.)
And we went to the club which was actually an open floor club in the back corner of the casino floor, pretty cool. There was a woman and her band wailing out that horrid Meghan Trainor All About that Bass song. Walking to the entrance to the club we met up with half of the party group because the other hadn't shown up yet. We all made small talk and I was introduced to everybody. They were all mildly attractive. Then the second group came and joined us, and I was impressed that they were all pretty attractive as well. I'm being underwhelming. We were a HOT group, good Lord!
We all entered the club and piled in to our round table, complete with reserved sign and all. Everyone was so welcoming to me, it was so nice. We all sat and critiqued the band for a little bit deciding we didn't like them. We started to occasionally yell jabs at them, which obviously got worse the drunker we got. The guys aside from me all started with beer, the girls with their fruity drinks, and then there was me. I ordered two shots of patron. They were disgusting. They went down so roughly and made me catch my breath. After that I ordered a beer. Two of the three other guys had already started drinking before we got there so we were at about the same level of "drunkeness." The girls were drunk quickly, of course. More beer and more liquor and we were all chatting and then Beyoncé started playing throughout the club, after the band had taken a break. The girls were gone, and just the four of us guys remained at the table, talking about sports, beer, vaginas, and checking out random girls around the bar. Funnily enough we were all singing along and dancing at the table too. Alcohol makes making friends so much easier. Then the one guy asked us if we wanted anything from the bar and I knew I was drunk already but I said "fuck it, I'll go with you!" The two of us went to the bar, not wanting to wait for the drink waitress who was assigned to our table and one of the girls came up and asked what we were doing, (I don't just standing at the bar, what do you think?) and we told her and she said she wanted a shot and next thing you know, the guy was buying shots for everyone as well as beer for us guys. He was cool. The shots were a super mixture of liquor that left it as a milky substance with a cinnamon undertone. It was delicious. We did that thing where the group puts all their shots in the middle of them and screams, it was awesome. We all stayed on the dance floor from that point on, and it was the best time. Even after the shitty band came back out we still danced and went wild. As the night came to an end I realized I was still a little drunk, even after chugging two water bottles. After saying my goodbyes to everyone, I walked back towards the parking garage. I hope I see them all again. I actually liked them all so much. (The one guy tripped the other, and he literally just landed on the floor and got back up, it was so funny.) I sat in the driver's seat for five minutes staring at nothing before climbing into my backseat taking out my contacts, (I had my contact case and glasses in my jacket) and laying down. I woke up maybe 20 minutes later to a guy screaming from outside my car that I hit him and dented his car. He was the car parked in front of me. I literally sat up and stared at him, knowing I did no such thing, and he got in his car and drove away. By this point I was alright to drive home, so that's what I did. It was almost 4 a.m. when I walked into my house. Best night in weeks, hands down.
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