Hi HI HIiiiiiii,
I can’t believe it is already Sunday…Sundays used to be the BEST day of the week. For those of you who have not experienced a Sunday in Miami yet, it works like this:
9:30am: Wake up next to four a piece of half eaten supreme pizza from Dominoes. Finish eating it.
10:30am: Wake up and start chugging water. It’s Drag Brunch Day!!!
10:47am: Call your fag hags and start BEGGING them to come. Never mind their pounding headaches, missing wallets, or lost virginity. It’s time to see some TRANNIES!!!
11:11am: Jump in the shower so you can try to make the 11:30am showtime. Daydrinking can’t start at 2…it has to be done ALL day.
11:26am: Pick up your fag hags from their building. Fight over what should be played on the radio: “Blown Away” or “All Gold Everything”. (Sadly, Carrie always loses…I need new fag hags 😦 😦 😦 🙂
11:40am: After breaking countless speed laws, arrive at your destination: PALACE bar.
From 11:40am – ??? (whenever we decided to cab/”drive” home), Sunday’s would be filled with showstopping performances from trannies skinnier than Xtina Aguilera and with less make up than *insert ugly celebrities here*: 
(Well, maybe Kelly needs to start wearing makeup after that lypo…)
Anyways, Sundays were awesome because we all used to just day drink and thank Carrie that we didn’t have to resort to this to make money:
Regardless, now that I’m 6 days sober..the weekend was full of…other…exciting adventures.
Saturday nothing really major happened, except if you think me binge eating coconut ice cream topped with peanut butter and German Cake icing is exciting. Seriously, my logic is so whack…I’m like “if I’m not going out, then I won’t drink empty calories…so that means instead I can EAT empty calories”! And then whenever I see a picture of Matthew McConohey shirtless I’m just like… 😦
Thankfully, my friend Sophia V. saved me from my night of binge eating while crying to Grey’s Anatomy. And that isn’t supposed to be funny – I know that each and everyone one of you chicas have done the exact same thing at least once in your life. So STFU. She picked me up and we cahorted across Miami to walk our friend Britney’s dog. Unfortunately, as we were watching, we almost got attacked by the werewolves from True Blood. I wish I was joking. Sophia and I were just walking in the street, catching up on casual gossip (but no seriously Sophia…WTF was she thinking) when all of a sudden I hear the sounds of death and destruction behind me. I whirl around as my scream gets caught in my throat…I can’t move because two HUGE BLACK HOUNDS are coming RIGHT at us. If those direwolves had rabies, poor Sophia probably would be 8 feet under right now, because I was *thisclose* to booking it and leaving Sophia behind (remember, I was almost paralyzed and completely mute with fear). Carrie must have been watching out for us from her humble home in Oklahoma, because we both made it out alive, albeit with my dignity dripping from me like how it drips when I wake up from a blackout.
Sophia and I then decide to go back home and have a nice Saturday night sleepover. As you might have remembered, Jesus failed at fixing my air conditioner and I was not about to spend another night in Hell’s Kitchen. Sophia, however, completely forgot to mention the fact that a nice Saturday night sleepover, for her, included rescuing baby toads from gutters. Like seriously, WTF. All I want to do is walk to the effing corner store, buy my Doritos Nacho Picante chips (THEY ARE THE BEST EVERRRRR) and flavored water (closest thing to flavored vodka, amIright?) and pass out watching Netflix. But no. Sophia must have a Girl Scouts card tucked away in her bra, because she goes into FULL animal preservation mode on me when she sees a little toad happily bouncing along on the street. PETA should seriously reach out and hire her…I’m sure she could rescue all those misplaced alligators and crockidiles (how the F do u spell that) from the gutters too. And it’s not like the toad was in DANGER…it was just minding its own business when Captain Planet decides the toad is in mortal danger and we must save it. Alas, as she contemplated with what PETA strategy to implement in rescuing the happy toad, it hopped into a gutter. Props to Sophia…her heart-wrenching cry of anguish probably could have won her a Teens Choice Award for “Saddest Cry when Toad Hops Into Gutter” category. And me, being the IDIOT I am, decide to sarcastically be like “Oh don’t worry Sophia, I have been working out!” and attempt to lift the gutter up just so that I can show her that all hope is lost, the toad is probably drowned, and now its time to Nacho Picante our way to the corner store. I drop down into serious benchlifting position, and lo and behold the motherfucking gutter pops off. I completely wish I was joking. I’m standing there, amazed, like what.the.fuck I am a puny white boy from Maryland HDF did I just life a gutter. Sophia, again, looked equally shocked: combined we would have won the Teen’s Choice Award for “Most Shocked Face when Idiot Lifts Gutter Up to Rescue Baby Toad”. Then, to my complete and utter dismay (and her nail parlor’s), Sophia drops down and starts sifting through the gutter to rescue this toad. ewwwwwwwwwwww. She finally rescues it and literally walks 5 feet away and is like…the shrubbery should do…and drops it off. I wasted 10 minutes of my precious, (possibly soon)cancerous life watching Captain Planet walk 5 ft for a baby toad. Ugh.
We end up in the apartment with our goodies from the cornerstore and select the movie “Friends with Kids”. Absolutely amazing movie – it’s like the whole cast of Bridesmaids, except no Melissa McCarthy 😦 . The plot involves male and female best friends who decide to have a baby together so they avoid the whole messy parenting aspect of marriage (I know right? such a hetero movie…these breeders are trying to AVOID marriage when millions of fags/dykes can’t even legally have sex let alone tie the knot….) Sophia and I joke about the fact that could be us. It was a cute and funny joke. Up until we watched the part of…like the conception of the child, the birth of the child, aaannnd the way a child kindaaaa takes over your life. Nope. It was cute while it lasted, Sophia.
Passing out in an air conditioned apartment was heavenly. When Sophia breathed on me to wake me up (just kidding honey boo boo 😉 ), I felt refreshed and ready to tackle the day. That luxurious moment fell flat when I stepped on the treadmill, but that’s another story (the bad part of Nacho Picante Doritos is they add like 14.8 percent belly fat). However, I did have a job lead I wanted to take, which leads me to my Sunday adventure in a parking lot.
On my way to apply for this job, I have to park in a parking lot so I can walk across the street into the restaurant. Except it’s a parking garage, so unless I have a validated ticket I have to pay money to leave it. That’s fine, I’m cheap, but not like counting pennies cheap (yet). I’ll just get it validated from the grocery store containing the garage. So I’m walking to apply to this job all happy and cheerful because I’m feeeelllin good about this. Good like the Big Lebowski drinking a white russian good. And it goes great! Except when I find out they have no applications on file, so I need to go back, print out an application, and turn it in with my resume. I’m like, no sweat. Staples is 10 minutes away…I got all the time in the world. Except when I get back to the grocery store and realize I lost my goddamn ticket somewhere between my car and the garage. And I literally look like 
.
To lose a ticket in a Miami garage means you have to pay/sign a contract stating you will give them your firstborn child as soon as you get one. It’s just ridic. and for a brokeass mofo like me, I wanted to get out of this dilemma even if it meant breaking the rules. So naturally I walk across the parking garage to the ticket dispenser and push the button, thinking that even if I get caught I can give them an earful about how unethical their ticket policy, on some human level, is. Unfortunately, the ticket dispensers must be programmed to only dispense the effing tickets when a car/someone the size of Rosie O Donnell approaches. Because no luck. So I’m one unborn baby down (Sophia, you said you would do two egg donations after Friends with Kids, right? 🙂 )
After that, I pretty much laid in bed all day and discovered Blockbusters actually exists. Which is FANTASTIC, because that means I can rent movies for 99 cents for FIVE DAYS which means I can show movies ALL WEEK. Yea, just call me Cameron Diaz.
Aaaand then my roommate asked me if I want to drink tonight and I just looked at him like 
Until next time, betches.
I'm (Sober) In Miami, Betch 