Hi. You probably know me as hellohahanarf from my years of commenting around the world wide internetz, yet never having a blog. Well my friends, that has changed. Welcome to MY site.
Twitter needs a breathalyzer. Seems my ridiculous ramblings led to me receiving this message:
Congrats @hellohahanarf. You’ve won the first Weekend Drunk Twit of the Night award! We’re so proud. Keep on celebrating! #Drunktwitaward
Yep, there is a Twitter account that sent out this message:
Seen any funny drunk tweets? We’re looking for the best drunk twitterer tonight. Send your nominations to @WeekendDrunk #Drunktwitaward
So, which one of you fuckers turned me in to the Weekend Drunk folks?
Anyhow, back to my ramblings. They are below. You might want to start at the bottom, though. (My favorite? When I scream in all caps to the internet that I didn’t take advantage of the bartender who had a shift conveniently end while I was at his bar. I was flirting shamelessly and he said he wanted to see my sweet suite’s hot tub and that he would love to “party” with me.) So here we go…witness the ugly typos and drunken ramblings of a woman on her last night in Vegas:
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, i hear the thump thump allure of the Voodoo lounge. PEace, i’m out!! GOtta run upstairs with the beautiful people.
@quirkysarah Always., Just running around the hote/lcasino and trying not t o bang hot guys. AIn’t easy!!
@quirkysarah HIC! (I loev me some VODKA of the Ketel variety)
@mindymin Pssshaw. No tylenol necessaryh. A giant glass o watern and some more water. wheeeee!
HEY INTERNET, I DIDN”T FUCK THAT GUY FROM THE BARR. OI kmnow you werea ll worried. we are good!!@
i think i get a better conscious the more i drink cozz seriously i do.
@mindymin I meant to say “shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” and i’m sorrry abiout all that ggggg stuff. !
@mindymin ggggggggggggggggggggggggg
@mtoast99 Don’t even sarart this game. Who’s on first. I don’t know. Third base bitcvh!!!!!!!!!!!
@GingerSnaps After all you do, I just hate that you have to deal with his stuupidass coz he sounds like a douche.
what?
@GingerSnaps Drunk girl says Nurseboy can show the pin and certificate later. Him a douchebag. Then again, I haVE been drinking.
@GingerSnaps Aftger his receint behavior? Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahkk him. SERIOUSLY.
@mtoast99 Well…ummmmmmmmm. Your face looks funnnier when I am drink. So tghere! hehe. ummmm. YEAH!
@Iron_Fist Oh don’t tempt me ,myfriend. it won’t be pretty. TURST ME!@
If drunk girl ,me shouldn’t have been Twitteringt earlier, imagine how much I shouldn’t me sending updaegts now. bitches. hehe
http://twitpic.com/4p7p4 – Indian dinner. Yum!!!
@sybillaw wish I knew why you thnik I amn funny! Xoxo
Ok, I sant spell Smithwick’s, but the Pens score!!!
What the fuck piece of shit Irish bar runs out of Smitheick’s? Seriously!
OK, I will blow who I have to blow…Let’s go pens!!!
It might be over. My hot bartender likes Crown.
http://twitpic.com/4owhu – Old fart from Buffalo who loves the Burgh
@burghbaby OK. That is it. I am going for it. Slap my ass and call me a cougar!!!
@burghbaby so if I ravish him, I can somehow blame your married, mommy self? Please say yes!! (He is adorable!)
Does everyone think they are going home with the hot young bartender, or am I really skirting the insane reality? I blame the sweet suite.
@quirkysarah turn on VS, silly. Pens are down and need you.
@Faiqa I have no doubt that you GLOW and don’t sweat. And I would love to see you all pretty and pregnant. Maybe soon…
@Faiqa Are you fucking kidding me? You are one of the most gorgeous & stunning people I know. And I know some gorgeous people!!!
Dear Pittsburgh Penguins, please commence to kicking ass and making my town proud. And help me play with this little boy. Thanks. XOXO, B
@burghbaby Love the new Twitter avatar!
Seriously hitting on cute bartender. Bad Becky. At least he was smart enough to put on the Pens game! (That means he wants me, right?)
@jonrandahl I am up! Whoooooo! (That means I am drinking in Vegas & flirting with the bartender.)
@mindymin DEAL!! Things settle down around the 18th. P.S. I am at an “Irish” bar that is out of Smithwick’s…how fucking sad is that??!?!
@jonrandahl oh…and HI!!!!
@jonrandahl Yes what is?
@snackiepoo Not only am I real, but tomorrow’s HNT was censored for you!
@BEFinn If you promise that the only time I will be on camera is to make out with @dutch_bitch, then I wholeheartedly agree.
@BEFinn Live video stream? Fuck. Is it too late to change my RSVP? Maybe this is a party I need to skip!
@mindymin you make me laugh. one of these days we are gonna have beers together, dammit!
Just left a dinner with 1400 people. Food was great, drinks were Ketel One (thank you, Rio for knowing that I love me some Ketel), I picked an incredible table of people to sit at and the entertainment was awesome. Frank Caliendo (you might know him from Sunday football or from his “Frank TV”) performed and was fantastic. Love his Madden stuff seeing as how I hate Madden. Anyhow, all around great start to the night. In a few minutes I have to go back out and meet up with some contacts from this trade show, but I figured I would take a minute to show you the insane suite someone is probably getting fired for giving me.
My living room.
My hot tub and massage table.
My bedroom has a couch.
Ok. Seriously? The fucking wireless card that works great everywhere ain’t working here. Taking entirely too long for me to upload photos or do anything here. Besides, you don’t want to see a bunch of photos of my suite that you aren’t partying in. If I would have known the ridiculously huge suite I would be staying in, I would have asked you all to come out and play. Dammit!
Anyhow, back to my problem…I need someone with more technical savvy than me to answer a question. Is it possible for the casino to send out some sort of block that makes my wireless card maddeningly slow? My Blackberry won’t / can’t access Twitter or the internet and my wireless card for the lappy top crawls. I think these bastards want me to pay for their internet and I refuse. Which means it will take forever and a half for the HNT photos to upload. Grrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Oh well. I refuse to worry about it now. Gonna go back out and meet some folks from the trade show. Maybe head up to the VooDoo lounge, maybe watch folks play craps. I like craps because I get to yell a bunch and generally act like a fool. (No surprise there.)
Our weekend in Kentucky was so fantastic that we are already planning the next one. Yep, it looks like I am going to ConFab, Baby! Yay!
Thursday after work my cousin, Re (Twinkle Twat), and my coworker, Cinderella, jumped into my SUV and we headed to Kentucky. The drive was going well until about Cincinnati when we decided that we simply had to see the Hofbrauhaus in the area. It was midnight and we still had about 80 miles to go on the drive to Lexington, but since Re works at the one in Pittsburgh we were simply too curious to pass it up. The girls had one beer, I had one water. As soon as we got on the road the gentle hum of the engine made both Re and Cinderella pass the fuck out. Not sure how, but I managed to stay awake enough to get us to the gorgeous home of Turnbaby and Fab. Wasn’t long after that we all hit the sack.
Friday brought a tasty breakfast and the Maker’s Mark Mile. Even the rain couldn’t dampen our spirits. Especially when there was so much bourbon to consume. And incredibly beautiful bartenders (I may have told one that my shoes were sexy, he may have said not as sexy as his and I might have said that his shoes would look even better under my bed. While sober. Wheee!). The ponies ran around in circles, we drank bourbon and made friends. All around great day.
Me, Re and Cinderella
We went to the party thrown by Maker’s Mark, but there were entirely too many people there so we left and headed to Shamrock’s, a cute little bar that is across the street from the hotel I stayed in last year. Fab and Turn were all lovey dovey (seems that is what newlyweds do) and my crew was all drunk (seems that is what we do).
Saturday we decided not to make our annual trek to the Maker’s Mark distillery so that we would have more time to all get tattoos together and to make a trip to the heaven on earth known as the Liquor Barn. Pennsylvania is a very controlling state when it comes to alcohol and nothing like the Liquor Barn is available around here. At the register I crossed my fingers that I would stay under $200 and I did! Yay!
My kind of shopping!
Newlyweds were still squishy and cute.
The Liquor Barn was the only place I remembered to be “artistic” with my camera. hehe
Totally counts!
Even with hundreds of dollars worth of booze in the back of the vehicle we stayed sober and headed to Tattoo Charlie’s. They aren’t the friendliest and are a little overpriced, plus the wait was crazy so we headed a block down to the Lucky Lady tattoo parlor. They were incredibly nice and we got a much better vibe from the place so we hunkered down for the next four plus hours. Fortunately we had Pringles, chocolate covered macadamia nuts, water, pop and various snacks to sustain us. All four females got tattoos, Fabby pussed out. I mean we ran out of time. Although I can’t help but give Fab shit for not getting inked, I give him loads of credit for being supportive of Turn.
I didn’t get the love at Lucky Lady’s. Instead every damn one of those fuckers made fun of the faces I made. Some even took photos for their Facebook photo albums. sigh
Afterward we decided to stay in and party at home instead of going out. It was terrific fun and a night full of laughter. Sweet tea vodka and shots of Barenjager had me so very happy that I forgot to take pictures. Until it was pretty damn late. Then these types of images were captured.
Still lovey dovey
I may have crashed earlier than I wanted to, but I had to drive home on Sunday. Somebody had to. Those two stupid bitches that I traveled with couldn’t stay up on the drive home.
I haven’t had time to take the photos from my phone yet, but here is a cellica phone photo of my new tattoo. Sorry for the terrible quality of the picture.
The turtle is an image that was on a shirt I purchased in Hawaii. I think he compliments the Strong Woman piece nicely. Here is me in the shirt the other day in the Cincinnati Hofbrauhaus. Well, technically it is in Kentucky, but whatever.
The fuckers I was with took photos of me in pain while Amber doing the actual tattoo. Seems me in pain is funny to those bastards. I think Fabby may have already created an album of my ouch faces on Facebook. (Please note that I am holding a black pillow against my black shirt…I am not shoving my fingers up myself. Bad, bad photo!)
Happy, happy Easter! I now have a six hour drive ahead of me and I am entirely too hungover.
While in Florida to check out the Pirates at Spring Training I found myself taking a lot of photos. All my life I have never been artistic…can’t sing, act, dance, paint, etc. Somehow my brain has got itself convinced that a photographer’s eye can be taught. Silly, silly brain.
Tastiest lemon drop martini in the history of lemon drops.
Maybe it was silly drunken brain?
Ginger in the fading sun.
Yummy, yummy edamame.
Seats at McKechnie Field.
After batting practice.
Bark of a palm tree.
Boats at the Manatee River marina.
Ducks in a line are artistic, right?
What about little lizards, lifting a foot?
Bubble filled hot tubs have to be artsy.
A lifesaver! Totally artistic!
Which is the more artistic palm photo? or ?
Which view of the gulls is better?
Several gulls on a wooden railing or Lone gull on railing?
Which artistic lines are more pleasing?
Closeup of the park bench or Riverwalk underpass?
And of course, which self portrait is more artistic?
or
Yeah, you so don’t have to answer that last question. First thing I saw when going through the photos were Aunt Tinkle’s legs looking as though they were sticking out of my ear. Second thing I noticed was the goofy look on my face. So much for artistic. Sigh.
Years ago I saw a performance of the Rocky Horror Show at the Broward Center for Performing Arts in Ft. Lauderdale which was quite enjoyable, but still nothing like seeing the movie where people are throwing rice and toast, shooting squirt guns, dressing up in fishnets, etc. While I liked the professional actors and the play, I was rather thankful the performance was free.
The other day I received an email about one of the local colleges (Point Park) putting on the Rocky Horror show at the Pittsburgh Playhouse in Oakland. Less than twenty bucks for a few hours and supporting the kids sounded like a good idea. I sent a few emails around and wha-la, next thing I know I had a little group totaling six. A few changes in the two weeks to showtime led to the group being Jim (you probably remember him from when he waxed his balls and posed for HNT), Jim’s son who is 17 and the kid’s girlfriend, who is 20. Knowing that they would all love the afternoon had me eagerly anticipating Saturday.
We started with breakfast at a local diner. Right after we sat down two SMOKING hot men came in and found a table near us. The guy facing me was incredible. I stared at him the entire time we were there. As we were leaving, I walked over, leaned down and said, “I am sure you noticed that I couldn’t take my eyes off of you this morning. I’m sorry, but you two are absolutely gorgeous and I simply could not stop staring. Just wanted you to know that I think you are beautiful. Enjoy your day.” The shade of red they turned was priceless. When they finally found their words they mumbled thank you. Too cute.
We found unbelievable parking, which is unheard of in Oakland. Our seats were in the second row, on the aisle. The desk of the criminologist was right in front of us. As we settled in I loudly said, “Ok, people. Cell phones off.” An adorable college kid in front of me whipped around and thanked me for the reminder. That talking to strangers is something I totally would have done. Fucking perfect seats.
There really aren’t words to describe how terrific the performance was. Those kids were so much better than the professional actors I saw in Florida. At times I was dancing and other times I was drooling over men in fishnets. Sexy, funny, well timed and with a magnificent use of a small space. If you are in Pittsburgh and like the Rocky Horror Picture Show at all, please do yourself a favor and catch a performance before the run ends on the 11th of April.
After the play we did the Time Warp all the way back to my vehicle and decided to go get Jim a beer as big as his head at the Hofbrauhaus. The place was packed so we sat outside and therefore didn’t stay too terribly long as the brilliant young’uns didn’t have jackets. We did a long walk around the block, stopping to encourage a child who appeared to be about eight as he was climbing the REI climbing wall as well as to check out the Urban Outfitters store.
I bought a few books and the coolest ring ever. The ring is a bottle opener and will come in handy at tailgate parties. What I didn’t buy was the world’s worst sunglasses:
On the way back to the office parking lot where we left Jim’s truck I put in a mix CD. We enjoyed the various tunes, but kept the volume low enough so we could talk without screaming. I pulled into our lot as Frankie Valli started to sing “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You.” The moment I eased the vehicle into park I flung the door opened and hollered, “I LOVE YOU BAY-BEE!” and began to dance. Didn’t take the group long to join in. We laughed and danced in the parking lot.
The next song was a club type beat and we went nuts, jumping and dancing with flailing arms. I laughed so hard it hurt and danced, thankful no one was watching our group.
My dogs needed to go out and they were hungry so I headed home. I wasn’t there long when Twinkle Twat and her husband called. Seems they wanted company watching the Pitt game. When Pirate names start being thrown about (I’m River Red, Twinkle’s husband is Rowdy Roy) I know I have to go play. Especially when they came all the way over to my neck of the woods to hang out at the Sharp Edge.
Unfortunately Pitt blew the damn game so we decided to go back to the Hofbrauhaus for more beer in mugs as big as my head. Something about holding that massive glass mug just makes me so happy. I called Aunt Tinkle and informed her that we’d be by to pick up both her and her boyfriend. Ryan had sent a text message so he was easy to persuade to get his ass down to the big beer heaven.
We laughed, sang along with a German band, drank shots of Barenjager (which must not have a high alcohol content because I drank MANY shots), had beers as big as my head, talked and all around had a great time. Didn’t leave until they were closing the joint. And I didn’t have to drive!
Monday I had the pleasure of getting to the ballpark early. Maybe stick my toes in the grass, maybe watch batting practice, maybe grab a beer for breakfast. Ya know, spring training baseball stuff.
Which lead to me meeting several players. Only one of the guys I met I could pick out of a lineup. Not that Jack Wilson is anything but the pilar of society. Seriously, I ran into him a year ago at a Penguins hockey game and he handled himself with poise and kindness. Monday when I mentioned the situation he immediately smiled and said, “You mean that Pens game against the Maple Leafs?” I was sure to inform him of how impressed I was with his character. Not your typical sports douche bag.
See:
Then I met a guy who reminded me of Britt‘s husband. Jared is tall and thin, so is Bixler. When I slid my arm around his waist, it kept wrapping around because little Brian did really not have much of a waist. I giggled and told him he was too skinny. And then, embarrassingly enough, I told him to eat a cheeseburger and to bulk up. Because obviously I am an ass and should not be permitted in public. Anyhow, doesn’t he totally remind ya of Jared:
Brian was way cool, even though I said stupid stuff to him about him being too thin. Hell, he even let me photograph his hand. Love me some strong hands on a man.
My favorite typical me part of the day came when some cute player that I didn’t recognize was there, being all friendly. I pose for a photo and tell him not to worry, that my hand is where it belongs, on his lower back. He made the mistake of asking where it didn’t belong. So I um, well, I slid my hand down to firmly cup his perfect ass. He smiled for the photo and chuckled a southern laugh a bit. My knees may have gone a little lot weak at the Southern accent. We took a bunch of photos. Here is one:
Turns out Matt Capps is a relief pitcher. I seem to have a thing for closers.
More to tell, but I am tired. And you guys are probably all about tired of me gushing about Spring Training.
At least I am not gloating that the Pitt Panthers have advanced to the Elite Eight. (Oh yeah, bested Xavier and are movin on…whoooooooooooot!)
Nobody escaped Iowa for a week, but unfortunately got stuck several miles south of Pittsburgh proper. Without a car. Poor guy! We met the other night at The Sharp Edge Creekhouse (my favorite beer emporium) and agreed that I would play Tour Guide Becky and drag his ass all over Pittsburgh. His coworkers are not exceptionally fun people, a fact made evident at the Sharp Edge the other day, so he ditched them and I picked him up. Drove him through the tunnel which opens up like a window to my city. Blam, there’s Pittsburgh! He was kind enough to humor me with a “wooooooooooooooooo” that was appropriately timed.
Plenty of driving around, looking at stuff, then I went up to Mt. Washington and made him get out of my vehicle to look at the city. I can’t work my own camera, as is quite obvious from that photo above. There were two nice guys up there with a fancy camera and a tripod so I figured they could take a decent photo. Of course I walked up and asked them to set my camera up so that I could capture the scene and they went one better, using my camera to take photos of us.
(Thanks, strangers!!)
We were starving and Nobody wanted a steak while I wanted a beer so we headed down to the Church Brew Works. It is an old church that was slated for destruction until a wonderful guy with a vision purchased it, spruced it up and turned it into a microbrewery. I haven’t been there since another blogger was in town entirely too long ago and I think my tastes in beer have changed since then. Today I was in love with a porter they had (special brew, not normally on the menu). I did a sampler, then bought a pint of the tasty porter. Nobody drank the closest thing he could get to a Budweiser, a brew I used to down in large quantities. I tried to be artistic and failed:
We both had cold mashed potatoes and veggies with our steaks so the waitress gave us free dessert. Oh my fuck, was it tasty. This photo doesn’t even begin to cover it.
One thing that was pretty funny about the whole adventure was that Nobody’s coworkers were all freaked out about him meeting a female in another city that he didn’t know. They were so worried about his wife. (Don’t worry, she knows that we were gonna hang out! She is way cool and had no problem with the fact that I rescued him from the hell they had him trapped in.) I mean, when they came to the Sharp Edge for dinner, I was at the bar with Cinderella and Doodle and the coworkers would not even look at us. As they were heading for the door I hollered good night or goodbye or something and only one of the two turned around to half wave. Either they are way antisocial or they have some deep loyalty to Nobody’s wife. I am trying to give them the benefit of the doubt!
Regardless, I hope Nobody brings them both to the Hofbrauhaus tomorrow for happy hour. I’ll only fuck with them a little bit.
As I mentioned in yesterday’s photofest, we had a little to drink at the parade. Well, Twinkle didn’t drink at all because she had her son with us. He is only three years old and is damn precious cargo.
Happy faces.
Fish faces.
Stick your tongue out!
Make a mean face.
EVERYone make a mean face!
Surprisingly, he didn’t seem to mind that I was not exactly sober. That said, embarrassingly I give you a quick video. Seriously though, ignore my stupid self and concentrate on the cuteness that is my cousin’s son.
Those photos were taken on the car ride to drop him off at his grandfather’s house so that Twinkle could catch up to Tinkle and me in the booze department. We grabbed a late lunch and then headed to the Harp and Fiddle in the Strip. Great, great fun. Lots of music. And hot men.
Like this guy that was standing in front of me at the packed bar. He was wearing a kilt and a woman next to me dared me to lift it up. When I ascertained that she wasn’t his wife I firmly tapped him on the shoulder. It was like tapping my finger against a tree and I freely admit it was kind of hot. I wasn’t even looking when he turned around, I kept my eyes on the massive shoulders, but I asked if I could touch his bum. (Yes, I said “bum.” Since it was in an Irish accent it somehow worked. Shut it.) Quickly I was granted approval. Didn’t have to tell me twice! I grabbed the kilt, lifted, rubbed the beautiful bum, gave it a squeeze and then slapped it. Three times. After all of that I let go of his kilt, leaned forward and asked if his wife was now going to kick my ass. He laughed and said she doesn’t mind. So I asked for a photo.
CUTE! Yep, I realized he was cute when I looked to see if the cell phone took an ok picture.
I made my way back out to the best spot in the place, on the porch, under the tent. Lots of laughter with Twinkle and Tinkle. Lots of Smithwick’s Irish Ale. Sometime after too many beers I met some cute guy with phenomenal arms. So I made out with him for a bit.
Then I ran into my favorite bar’s bartender.
Not long after I ran into my coworker who was in town from SC.
Twinkle’s former coworker decided to join us at the Harp and Fiddle. He kept us laughing.
We had fun!
Hell, even on the way out drunk girl met another attractive man.
You guys know I saved the best photos for tomorrow, right? Half Nekkid Thursday has a guest who wasn’t shy and wanted me to see his green underwear. Wow, you are gonna wanna see this one! Yum!
Sunday I typed a post and set it to go at midnight Monday. In that post I promised to post photos from the St. Patrick’s Day Parade. Monday I got NO comments. Monday night I went to write the post with the photos and I couldn’t get into my blog. MAJOR error. Jester came to my rescue, but by then it was all kinds of late so whaaa-la, you are only getting my pictures now.
Good news is, Jester rocks! And because he fixed this place I can now show you photos from Saturday. Yaaaay, Jester! Thank you, thank you.
Every year Pittsburgh throws a St. Patrick’s Day celebration the Saturday before the High Holy Day itself. The parade lasts from 10 AM until 2 PM and is damn fun. This year cousin Twinkle Twat brought her son who is three years old. Aunt Tinkle Tom Tom Twat and I left our dogs at home even though it broke our heart, but there was drinking to do and we didn’t want to be responsible.
We started towards the beginning of the parade route, but there were so many people that they were spilling into the street so we couldn’t really enjoy the parade. Easy solution? Become a part of the parade and walk further down the route until you find where you are comfy. ANYhow, here’s the pics!
Don’t know why, but I love wolfhounds.
At one point I needed to run into the bagel place to buy a few green bagels and half cups of coffee (needed room for the Bailey’s) before heading down to where we would watch the bulk of the four hours worth of parade. On the way I ran into one of my favorite former coworkers. And his cheek full of chaw. (Blech!)
We got to the perfect spot, drank a bunch of booze and watched a bunch of parade…
How can folks be afraid of clowns?
This dude was sooo happy.
Great Pyrenees dogs were adorable in green.
Thankfully the llamas didn’t spit.
Loved the Ren Fest folks.
10Q, 10Q, 10Q!
Oh yes, Mr. McFeely from Mr. Rogers!
Lawn Order cracked me up.
As did their Terrible Trailer.
Roller Derby girls!
Steel City Fins
Gotta love Phil.
Aack! Zombies!
Howling at the fireboys in their trucks. hehe
Ok, enough of that. Here is my favorite photo from the parade…
Tomorrow I will share the after parade photos. Hope I didn’t scare you off with all of these. Wheeeeeeee!
!
My hot tub and massage table.
Totally counts!
Tastiest lemon drop martini in the history of lemon drops.
Ginger in the fading sun.
Seats at McKechnie Field.
Bark of a palm tree.
Ducks in a line are artistic, right?
Bubble filled hot tubs have to be artsy.
or 
?
or
Lone gull on railing?
or
Riverwalk underpass?
or 
Turns out Matt Capps is a relief pitcher. I seem to have a thing for closers.
(Thanks, strangers!!)
Happy faces.
Stick your tongue out!
EVERYone make a mean face!
This dude was sooo happy.
Loved the Ren Fest folks.
Lawn Order cracked me up.
Roller Derby girls!
Gotta love Phil.
Howling at the fireboys in their trucks. hehe