Boats and Hoes

I started this blog b/c I like to write. My posts always have been and always will be more about the text than the pictures; yet another blogging rule I’m breaking. Yesterday I wrote about how Brent and I started dating, but w/out even getting to our actual first date, it was already shaping up to be a doozy of a post and I had to wrap it up w/out mentioning some funny shit. Like the booze cruise I glossed over. If you’re ready for some embarrassing deets and blackmailing pictures, stay tuned. And if you’re over it, just bend over and take that stick out of your ass. Kidding, kidding…but seriously.

The booze cruise was planned for a Thursday night, b/c our company has a sick sense of humor and wanted to provide us all w/ an open bar and after party and then berate us for straggling in at 8:01 w/ Bud Light oozing from our pores. This is how much of a girl I am; I remember what I wore to work that day, what I brought to change into (obviously, b/c there were pictures), and boy do I remember what Brent did for lunch that day: went to Macy’s w/ another girl from the office. To pick up a shirt for the cruise, or help her pick out a shirt, or have sex in the changing room, I don’t know. That’s about where my mind was w/ that.

The afternoon in the office is a total waste, so around 4 they let us change so we can head over to a bar for some pregaming. The cruise was 7-9, and damn right we had to be drunk by the time we boarded. We’re at the bar and Brent’s sitting next to me over a plate of potato skins. Crush or no crush, I’m not about to pass up this greasy goodness, so I go to town on the apps while Brent is mentally planning how to maneuver into another booth. I’m not worried about it; once I get a few drinks in me, my personality will really win him over. 

We board the boat, which is probably one of the most sub-par ships in the Boston harbor. I don’t think our company had rented the ship exclusively for us, but it sure seemed that way. A few security guards posted up near the entrance, and we could all breathe easy knowing that the head bouncer was on crutches.

After taking the mandatory Boston skyline shots and doing a lap of the boat, everyone’s ready to get down to the business of drinking, so we snag some cups from the bar and start playing flip cup. I made sure Brent was on my team and that we didn’t play survivor style (you’re welcome B, your flip cup skills weren’t completely polished at that point in our relationship).

Most of the girls in my office knew something was going on between Brent and I, so as we get drunker, they start pressing me for details and pushing me towards him like it’s a middle school dance. We end up in a corner talking for pretty much the second half of the cruise. Movies, TV shows, sports; all the most important topics were covered (I’m assuming; I have no recollection of this).

Once we’re back on dry land, we stumble to a nearby bar and set up shop. Because it’s Thursday at 9:30pm and our night’s just getting started and they just let us know that we don’t have to be in until 8:30 tomorrow morning and that we can wear jeans. Shots all around! Seriously, that’s the shit that made our night. Did I mention that neither Brent nor I work for this place anymore?

I’m excited for the train ride home, b/c how can Brent say no to me this time, knowing that we get a whole extra half hour of sleep in the morning? 

Pretty easily, that’s how. Something about not having a change of clothes blah blah blah, I wasn’t really listening (and was completely hammered). 

The next day at work was a half day for me b/c I had to make the 5 hour drive to Syracuse for a friend’s rehearsal dinner (which I showed up to 20 minutes late for, wearing the sweats I had just driven 5 hours in, is anyone really surprised by this). 

The only part of the work day I remember was the email exchange Brent and I had about me saving his life on the train ride home b/c he was basically blacked out. The only thing I took from this was that he didn’t remember me asking him to come home w/ me, again. Dodged a bullet there, McCarthy.