I plug my ears when my bitch personal trainer, who I haven’t seen in over a month, tells me I will never lose the belly fat if I keep binge drinking.

LYING BITCH!

After looking at a horrific picture of myself taken at Bacci’s birthday this past Sunday I am beginning to think its the truth.  The picture would make anyone turn into a chain smoking, celery eating, coke snorting whore but I have somemorals and self-respect. I figured it was time to search the webs for an even lower sugar/carb/calorie drink.

I came across the Skinny Bitch and quickly concocted a plan.  I am going to attempt to cease drinking for a month.  This is nothing more than an attempt because I do have a bottle of raspberry vodka sitting on my dresser and Easter is Sunday.  NO promises.  I’m not going to go skimming through archives to find the posts where I weep about my life without booze because they are not my most interesting posts but I have quit drinking for a month and I am not going to lie it sucked.

Anyhow, when I return to the binge drinking beast that I am I will be ordering Skinny Bitches all night long and attempt to not order a Grey Goose and Red Bull as the night goes on.  No, this does not mean I am going to join the coke whore piling into the bathroom stalls or in the corner booths doing coke from their acrylic fingernails.

The web also tells me that Absolute has the least sugar of any vodka.  Is this true?

Note:  Chicago can we please coin that drink “skinny bitch”? I would love to be able to slur “gimme a skinny motherfucking bitch” rather than Absolute, Diet, Lime, make it snappy!  While I am requesting things would you please make Diet Red Bull more available? Ya know, in case I slip up later in the night because I am getting old.

P.S. I don’t think my plan will work.  If you know me at all you will know its all about me testing myself. 

My car not starting because of the horrific bone chilling cold, freezing my gas line. At least that’s what my Step-Dad said. I just nodded as my nasal passages froze and lips turned blue. Apparently, I need “gas line antifreeze.” I’m sorry I didn’t know I lived in Alaska and I had no clue where one puts “anitfreeze”.

The freezing cold resulted in me talking to my bestest J for 3 hours via the telephone. We live less than a mile from each other but the Chicago weather has obviously turned us into 2 telephone loving cabin fevered freaks with earaches.

My lunging leg wobbling in defeat as I did lunge/hamstring curls using 10 lb weights. I was a Bacci hair short of passing out. My personal trainer had to hand feed me a 100c pack of mini muffins. A bite of a Fiber One bar before the gym does not work out well for me.

The surprise that my personal trainer is pregnant. She sprung the news on me as I was huffing and puffing on the elliptical. No worries. She plans on working out until the day she goes into labor. Isn’t laziness a part of pregnancy? Hell, if I ever am cursed blessed with a child one day when I am old and all boozed out, I will be all about French Fries and daytime television. I’m kidding kind of.

Today I reached an all time low and hid my Triple Sec and Schnapps because it looks like the liquor in them was slowly dropping. Momma is hitting the sauce again. She has polished off a bottle of Everclear when in desperation hence my reason for hiding the booze. I am pretty sure even the cough medicine and rubbing alcohol are options for her.

L not returning my text. The text read, “Was ExAss circumcised?” It was a serious question. I really am unsure. I think I have decided he was uncircumcised.

I spent an hour emailing a man of Greek origin. 

Chicago nightlife is hurting with the recession and the crippling cold. Its hurting so bad that I received cold calls rather than text messages trying to coerce my ass out in the cold. The calls offered free chair massages and free cover through 2009. The recession and my lack of job will not keep me from enjoying the Chicago nightlife but negative degree weather will. I’m not even sure a free fur coat would get me out tonight.

One of my best guy friends decided to propose to his “ginger” girlfriend on New Years Eve. I just found out today via word of mouth. I am not going to lie, I am kind of hurt. I introduced them. I hope my prize is not being invited to the wedding.

Thank goodness I didn’t waste much time blogging about all of the above because I have Style Network waiting for me with my best friends Split Ends and Clean House.

After consuming 343 ounces of water, spending $60 on an updo complete with poof and ringlets, acrylic nails painted in “Eifel for this Color”, buying a new pair of patent pointy toe heels and clutch, and a burn thanks to my need to go tanning twice in one day

The night began early with L, Jax, and I meeting at my house to leave for the Sheraton who would be blessed with our occupancy for the night. My brother had to work late and took a cab to meet us there later in the evening.

We enjoyed our girl time in the car by sucking on caffeinated lollypops, downing sugar free Red Bulls, and popping Ice Breaker energy mints. Can you tell we have a bit of an addiction to all things caffeinated?

We went for a quick bite to eat at Houlihans. I have a tendency to forget to eat before a night of binge drinking which leads to me getting drunk off my ass even quicker, its possible. It’s a good thing I have L who refuses to let me not eat before drinking because she is the person blessed to deal with the drunken K. The first toast of the evening was at dinner. We clinked water glasses to our friendship.

Did I mention Chicago was effing cold on New Years Eve? FRIGID.

Us girls retreated back to the hotel to primp and meet my brother who had already had two Heinekens at the hotel lounge. Go figure!

Getting ready went much smoother than I imagined considering we were working with the vanity in the bathroom and the desk which sat before a mirror. We are proof that 3 girls can get ready in a small hotel room.

We looked fucking hot.  My New Years Eve attire was the suit.

The event was held at Navy Pier and I must say that was my only complaint. The location was less than convenient. It was held in the Grand Ballroom which is only accessible if you park in the parking garage otherwise you have to walk, half naked from the entrance of Navy Pier to the complete end of the pier.

Yes. Imagine it. Three girls walking in stilettos half naked through groups of tourists. One person actually exclaimed loudly after passing L “Holy shit that girl aint got no bra on.” L was wearing a suit similar to mine without a bra or cami, so sexy. I might as well have not even worn the cami because it looked like I was going braless and camiless throughout the night because the cami was that low cut.

After our 15 min walk through crowds of tourists holding hands and walking slowly through the pier, we made it to the Grand Ballroom and more importantly we made it to one of the many bars!

 We were by far one of the best dressed groups there. It seemed that Carson Pierie Scott’s homecoming dress department vomited all over the Grand Ballroom.

I would also like to note it is not okay to wear a bridesmaid dress on New Years Eve.

Getting drunk was easy, as getting a drink was far from difficult with all of the bars they had setup.

I was cursing Bacci throughout the night because my feet were killing from my new shoes.

I decided to throw a tantrum and retreat to a table to sit by myself. I was approached by 3 different guys trying to claim me as their own. Its amazing how many men will approach you when you are by yourself and look like a damsel in distress. I brushed them off and retreated back to my friends.

We became friends with a bartender which was convenient. She made sure we had champagne flutes full of champagne for midnight and matched us shot for shot. I’m really hoping “Rita” wasn’t driving her ass home that evening.

We danced and drank our pretty faces into 2009 with the Black Tie Affair performing and fireworks in the background.

L mistakenly kissed my baby brother on the “practice” countdown and was confused when the real countdown took place. She caught on.

My first kiss, my bestest Jax.

I was grateful to welcome 2009 confetti down my cleavage and all.

We retreated back to “our” bar and continued taking shots.

Things get blurry for a bit, bear with me.

I puke. It had to have been the cookie Jax romantically fed me earlier in the night. From what I hear… I puked behind the bar and then ordered another drink. I’m classy like that.

In between all of this, Jax decided she was going to go home with one of her friends that was supposedly there. We obliged. Well, I didn’t oblige because I was in a state of comatose but L and my brother did.

After puking the cookie I divulged earlier that evening, I was ready for more but the time was quickly approaching 2 am and L and my brother felt it was time for the evening to end.

The walk back to the entrance was foggy. I decided I would rather go shoeless and attempted to ditch my shoes somewhere in the stained glass museum.

We approach the entrance of Navy Pier and I spot Jax in the corner of my eye. She is crying and huddled up with a girl who I didn’t recognize. She is obviously drunk. I know drunk Jax. The girl holding her up was a stranger who was very willing to hand her drunk ass off to us.

Things begin to get foggy. I remember trying my damnest to quiet a belligerent Jax down hoping that the CPD did not arrest her and/or I because of the state we were in.

I really thought it was our day to get arrested.

The line to catch a cab was ridiculous. My brother eventually paid off a taxi driver $40 to drive us 3 blocks back to the Sheraton. Thank goodness for this rash decision because I am pretty sure Jax would have either passed out in the middle of the vestibule or even worse gotten arrested for telling everyone that approached her to fuck off including the men in blue.

By the time we get back to the room, I am ready to go for more or so I thought. I believe it took one shot of vodka and an order of uneaten $25 quesadillas before I passed out.

We all woke up pretty early the next morning and took inventory of what we may have lost. Jax wound up losing her MAC lip gloss and I lost my new clutch which contained a pill container full of Ativan, MAC lip gloss, and MAC lipstick. I am quite impressed with myself because earlier in the night I gave Jax my debit card and license for safekeeping. Yes, Jax did not lose her clutch even in the very poor condition she was in. I am thinking that I just no longer wanted to hold my clutch anymore and figured the best thing to do was to ditch it. I am smart like that. I had just bought the clutch and have yet to develop a bond.

Brunch was had by everyone but me as I cannot stomach food when hungover. We were back in the car headed home by noon.

New Years 2008 has come and gone. Where will I be New Years 2009? I think I am definitely going to try to make going out and painting the town red on NYE a tradition. I was a little hesitant about partying it up on NYE but really enjoyed it and am down for doing it again next year as long as driving is not in the equation.

I turned twenty-seven over the weekend.  Actually, today because I am dating this post back to my birthday, December 20th.  Archive reasons!

Twenty-Seven random things that occurred on December 20, 2008:

1.      I burned 400 calories on the elliptical

2.      I bought myself a tanning package to attempt to darken my “Casper” looking self.  I thought I was done with the bronze winter look but I’m not. 

3.      DYE job!  My hair is back to its dark chestnut brown.  I also think I found a new stylist.  Now only if she doesn’t run away like the other 2 potential stylists I have found in 2008.

4.      Chicago was blessed with RIDICULOUS weather.  The average temp for the day was 7.6 degrees and the snow did not stop falling.

5.      My Mom made me 27 cupcakes all topped with homemade white icing and pink sprinkles!

6.      Bacci helped me blow out my candles.

7.      My besties and I spent an hour driving around Lincoln Park in a snowstorm trying to find parking for our “original” destination of Vida Lounge.  Vida Lounge get VALET!

8.      Neither Jax nor I freaked out but rather played it “cool”.  We are very impatient people.  We immediately high five each other after we decided to get back onto 90-94 and change up the destination.

9.      Needless to say we hightailed it to Cafe Iberico after an hour of no luck in the parking spot department.

10.  I received a pair of hot gold Guess shoes from my bestie L. See! See!  Also. pictured is my Lola Martini Glass “Its 5′oclock Somewhere” that I got from Jax.

11.  Jax also armed me with what she calls “Single Girl Clutch” and L adorned me with a Givenchy Face on the Go Kit.  They look awesome but ..

12.  Look at how effing fun they are opened!

13.  Us 3 girls breezed through 2 full pitchers of Sangria in record time.

14.  We ordered 6 tappas and had lots of leftovers.

15.  My besties suprised me with an orgasm in my mouth. Hello… go right now and try Cafe Iberico’s BIZCOCHO BORRACHO! 

16.  We spent 20 minutes deciding if our next destination would be Moda or Manor.   We eventually decided on Moda.

17.  The first round of drinks consisted of 3 Bacardi Diets and 3 lemondrop shots.  That’s how we do!

18.  A guy “accidentally” spilled L’s drink and made it up to us by purchasing our next 2 rounds of drinks.

19.  We danced a lot.  Per the usual.

20.  We burrowed between 2 HUGE bouncers sheltering us from the violent Chicago winds as we waited for valet to bring around the car.

21.  We decided to go to an after-hours bar near our side of town.

22.  We lasted 5 minutes until we realized it was much too lame and demanded our $15 total in cover back.

23.  Jax got stuck in a snow bank in front of my house.

24.  L attempted to “unstuck” Jax’s car.

25.  My baby brother came to the rescue

26.  I fell asleep without pants.

27.  Definitely one of the best birthdays in my 27 years!

 Waking up on my 27th birthday I wasnt in the best of moods.  I was celebrating without “him” and I wouldnt be cuddled up ending my birthday with him and my fingers, ears, or neck adorned with diamonds.

I wasnt okay with it then but as my birthday drawed to a close I realized the diamonds I had as friends and family were all that mattered.

I, the booze drinking table dancing girl, have never went out on Black Wednesday.  I have been frequenting clubs and bars since the ripe age of 19 and have never even thought about going out on Black Wednesday.

Black Wednesday is a night of drunken debauchery which I am all about but included in this drunken debauchery is crowds of ignorant people which equals elbows to the head and spilled drinks on expensive clothes.

I dont do crowds of ignorant people.  I rarely do crowds of people. 

Dont get me wrong, I go out a lot and deal with crowds of people but never wait in line to get into a club, never wait in line to get a drink at a club, and never go to a club where I will be pushed and shoved by jackasses.

I don’t do that scene.

There is no club like the above available on Black Wednesday because every club in the city of Chicago is full of drunken assholes and any “hookup” you may have becomes obsolete.

L asked me to go out on Black Tuesday because originally our other bestest was working Thanksgiving and wouldnt be able to go out.

She knows that I despise Black Tuesday. I (gulp) agreed.

We had the conversation about 3 weeks ago and I have slowly tried to prepare myself.  I visted Walmart, frequented these stores with food called grocery stores, and all of my visits to the unemployment office have definitely covered the “ignorance” I would face.

When we discussed the whole Black Tuesday ordeal I also decided to agree on going out on NYE this year.  Crazy?  Yup… thats me.  I usually have a shindig at my house on NYE because again its one of those days that anxiety stricken K cannot handle. 

During our agreement, we both agreed we would go to a place near home which I hate on a regular basis let alone on a busy as day where I would wind up running into every single person I went to high school with and I went to 3 high schools, possibly ex boyfriends, and definitely ex friends.  We both thought it was the best idea because it was close and we would just cab home.  115 Bourbon Street here we come!  I say this with all sarcasm that I can produce.

We found out a week ago that Jax our other bestest would be off on Thanksgiving and would be painting the town red with us.

I then come home from a trip to the grocery store today.  Yes… I survived a grocery store 2 days before Thanksgiving without the assistance of a benzo or a fifth of vodka.  L and my brother are looking at Manor’s website which is downtown.

What??!? I did not agree to all that and hate to be blindsided.  I like to be prepared.  There is definitely a different dress code for me if I was to go to good ol’ 115 and if I was to go to a club downtown.  I am not tan.  My toes need painting.

This puts me in a rage and I get very snotty with L telling her I am not going out if thats where they decide to go.

She pretty much shrugs me off and continues to say she is going to call her brother and see what he wants to do.

Are you serious?  I am going out because everyone I thought wanted me to and now it has turned into a situation where my opinion doesnt even count?  Our other bestest Jax is now off Thanksgiving and would be joining us but that does not mean that my opinion means shit.

Jax calls me complaining that she doesnt want to do anything tomorrow let alone go downtown which baffles me because the idea seemed to come from her.  What?

In conclusion, I have no idea if tomorrow will be my 1st Black Friday out.

I would be quite happy sitting at home with a couple of bottles of Pinot Grigio and my bestest then possibly slashing the cheating bastard DILF’s tires.

Oh ya… did I forget to mention the DILF had a girlfriend when he decided to bang me in the back seat of his mercedes?  She contacted me through MySpace but that is a whole nother blog for a whole nother day.

Off to attend to more important things like my Arbor Mist that is chilling in my freezer.  I am hoping it doesnt look like this

An end to a hiatus?

I definitely hope so.  The only internet communication I have been indulging in over the last two weeks has been twitter.

If you havent begun living in twitterverse, I caution you thats its the worst internet addiction I have ever posessed.

What’s new?

A whole damn lot.  I am unsure where to start or even to bother recapping.  Perhaps, I should just retitle my blog to “Single Unemployed Vodka Drinking Cat Woman To Be”

It’s catchy.  No?

In any event.  I am unemployed.  I got the ol’ heave hoe at the corporate 9-5′er that paid for my over indulgence in shoes and all things alcohol related.

They offered me a box for my belonging but I stuffed all things worth saving into my big ol’ Coach purse and said adieu with my eyes swollen with tears.

Thats all for now.  I am not jumping back into this whole bloggy blog world guns blazing.  I would rather have a few rounds of shooting practice beforehand.

I leave you with an idea of the shape I have been in the past couple of weeks. I figure you will feel some sort of pain for me and if not you will definitely feel sorry for me.

or clubs, lounges, parties, or any other function involving the consumption of alcohol.
 
My ability to make an ass out of myself is very high.  Throw me in a cell with a fifth of Grey Goose and I will put on a show.  I will be as entertaining as the monkey house at Brookfield. 
 
I stopped up at the local tavern for a drink or 2 or 3.  It was a friend’s birthday, not really a friend perhaps an acquaintance because honestly my friends do no celebrate their birthday’s at dive bars.  I kept that to myself, smiled, and wished a happy birthday.
 
I was in “rare form” as my bestest described but in reality I was bored and amusing myself.
 
The highlight of the night was acting like the biggest ass on the Southside and then Jax telling me the guy she was with works at my 1st job which I worked at from age 15 to 23 and has already heard a lot about me.  Well now he gets to go to work and air some more of my shenanigans to my old coworkers, bosses, and friends.
 
Yup… let them know I am still as obnoxious as ever.
 
My Friday plans were supposed to involve getting FroYo with the DILF but things didn’t pan out that way.  I cancelled the plans via text message and he seemed fine with it. 
 
I ended the night early and retired in bed textversating with mister.  Thank goodness I was coherent to an extent and didn’t say anything too ridiculous.
 
Although, I did tell him I don’t like connecting to guys on an emotional level.  What the fuck?
 
I woke up early Saturday morning for my run which was fabulous.  I wasn’t hungover, just feeling tired and it was great to get out and run in such nice weather.  After greasing up my hair with sweat I headed over to get my hair “did”.
 
It looks fabulous and I have found a new stylist close to home.  SCORE!
 
I spent the remainder of Saturday napping and resting up my feet for a night of dancing in celebration of L’s brother’s 21st.
 
Thank goodness I had 2 Red Bull and Vodkas before I left the house because L decided to slam my pinkie and forefinger in the car door as we were parking.  She had to reopen the door to release them.
 
The pain was unbearable but you know what fixed it?  4 free drinks at Sound Bar did the trick
 
I was in a very aggravated mood with my cousin’s boyfriend who is lamer than lame and she is obnoxious as I.  Therefore, I couldn’t stand him and I don’t think he had a good night therefore I doubt he will be going out with us again!
 
I drink quicker when aggravated.
 
This is where things get blurry.
 
I remember getting into a cab to go to Republic,  I remember dancing a lot at Republic, I remember drinking a lot at Republic.
 
I do not remember starting a tab therefore I am ID and credit card less for the 3rd time this year from opening up a tab and never closing out.  It’s my MO.  The girl who has IDs floating all over the Chicago club scene.  I wonder how many underage girls are using my ID.
 
I do not remember being lost for 30 minutes and L finding me outside by the smokers trying to make friends with a couple of people who didn’t speak English.  L was not pleased.
 
I do not remember harassing a taxi driver.
 
I do not remember opening up the car door as L drove down Lake Shore Drive asking her if we could stop at the beach.
 
I do not remember taking numerous cam pics of myself and sending them to mister.
 
I do not remember sending my grandmother cam pics of my cousin and I clinking glasses with our tits falling out of shirts.
 
Sunday was not spent relaxing but rather in a comatose state from the large consumption of alcohol I consumed in 48 hours.  I caught up on Californication and cuddled with Bacci who gave me the evil “Mom… you’re such a drunk asshole” look.
 
Here I am at work Monday.  I woke up late.  I have no cash for lunch nor a debit card.  My hair is in kinks. 
 
I look like hell because I of my enjoyable drunken weekend.

I woke up to the Blackberry chiming Bacci’s vet appointment was set to occur in 15 minutes.  I slid out of bed and threw on some pants because we all know K never keeps her pants on after a drunken’ binge.  I don’t bother taking off the shirt I went out in and passed out in or taking a look at myself in the mirror because I know it will be a big ol’ disappointment of matted hair and day old makeup.
 
Bacci gives me the look “Mom you are a drunken fool and if you keep us these shenanigans I am going to eat your Cole Hahn’s”.

I scoop up Bacci and my evening clutch and head over to the vet with a half liter gallon of water in hand. 
 
I put Bacci on the table almost tipping over and looking like the most negligent drunken puppy mommy the vet has ever seen.
 
Unbelievably, I leave without a violation for drunken puppy parenting.
 
The afternoon was spent with my bestest L and Jax watching wedding shows and eating Jason’s Deli.  Unbelievably, I fought the hangover and was feeling obnoxious but good. 
 
We spent the afternoon stalking the front door for L’s Bebe dresses she ordered via overnight delivery that she planned to wear that night to Stone Lotus.
 
I also learned my BFF has a blankie.  Proof is in the puddin’
 

Then there is Jax holding a child’s toy wand and L and I looking at each other and just thinking “sex toy”.  Why?  Jax was holding it.     

Let’s make up excuses for my wild ass weekend… K?
 
Thinking… Thinking harder
 
There are no excuses for the drunken debauchery I decided to create this weekend.
 
The first step is admitting when you are “that girl”.  The drunken fool.  I am afraid I am “that girl” a large percentage of the time or whenever alcohol is involved.
 
It all began on Friday when my cousin decided to cancel her own birthday get together.  Who does that?  My vagabond borderline college student cousin, that’s who.
 
L and I were all gussied up to paint the western suburban tavern red when she called us and told us she was going to stay in and sleep.
 
“You filthy rotten whore” is what I wanted to say but I do indeed love her and L stopped me from doing the rash.
 
L and I decided we were really not dressed to go downtown but what the fuck and got into the ol’ rental car headed for the Viagra Triangle.  Yes… the Viagra Triangle is where the cougars roam and us not being of cougar status it’s a surprise we were not skinned to give a cougar a new coat.
 
We started off by meeting El at Level for some type of European disco event complete with a couple famous Greek DJs. We all know how I love the Greeks.
 
El pissed me off and now back to happier things; vodka, dancing, and dead babies.
 
We pounded Goose & Tonics like it was our job and met a couple fancy characters including a Sicilian who could barely speak English.  We all know that’s how I like ‘em.
 
He talked like Borat and danced like Belkie, it was quite obnoxious and a total turn on.  You should have heard him say “blue mother fucker”.  Then again what wouldn’t turn on a girl who hasn’t had sex in 9 months… seriously. 
 
After we tore through Level like Tasmanian Devils on blow, L and I decided we were probably too cool and headed down Rush looking for another location to harass.
 
We wound up on Jilly’s stoop.  Jilly’s brings back the good times for me. I sipped my first underage illegal Sex on the Beach there when I was 18 years old and my first and only glass of Cristale. 
 
We scooped up some shots and hit up the dance floor for some 80’s music and old men.  I mean OLD enough to be my grandfather and are anxiously wanting to get a little Viagra loving on.
 
Back to the streets we go…
 
Some bouncer roped us into PS Chicago with free drinks.  They know the way to our heart… vodka. L forced me to dance with someone of middle eastern decent who smelled of spices from the orient.  He also kept telling me to grind on him.  No thanks I save my grinding for the lady sipping the lemondrop martini over there!  I said as I pointed to Liz in a tantalizing drunken sex goddess away.
 
As sexy as “that girl” can be when intoxicated which I promise you is everything but sexy.
 
This is where I decided I wanted to makeout with a professional canoer who happened to be there with his canoe agent and also happened to be happily married with a child but definitely willing to lay me down on a hotel bed and have his way.
 
Oh heavens!
 
I think this is where the lights go out at PS Chicago and I black out.  Yup… Sounds about right.
 
The last thing I remember is parading down Rush street with a couple of old men who tried to find an open bar to buy us a drink at.  We directed them to hit up Leg Room without us and scooped up the car from valet.
 
This is where L claims I dug into my shirt and ripped the tape supporting my boom booms off of my alarmed skin.  This possibly could have been the 1st form of public flashing of the weekend.  Yes, I said 1st.
 
I’m classy like that.
 
No worries, L drove home.  
 
To Be Continued for more “that girl” shenanigans. 

Who needs enemies when you have “friends” leaving comments like the below on your MySpace profile:
 
Hot Pink Dress - $99
Jagerbombs - $32
Cover to get into “insert popular Chicago nightclub here” - $0
Passing out in the VIP section of “insert popular Chicago nightclub here” and being taken out by the fire department and paramedics – PRICELESS
 
Should I add this to my running list of reasons why MySpace is the devil?  
 
My friend Jax was rushed to the hospital Saturday night with a “barely there” heartbeat and evidence she was under the influence of GHB.  She didn’t regain consciousness until 2pm Sunday when she called L and I asking us if we knew what had happened. 
 
She went out Saturday night with a “friend” who obviously could care less about her well being and did not go to the hospital with her or notify any of her friends or family. 
 
She simply continued dancing and then drove Jax’s car home.  She then leaves the following MySpace comment:
 
Your car is at my house.  Call me when you want to pick it up.
 
Are you mother effing serious? Let me at this heartless bitch..!!!!!!!!
 
It makes me remember the things we quickly forget because of course those awful shitty things would never happen to us.. right?
 
I won’t get a DUI, I won’t be killed by a drunk driver, I won’t be slipped a drug, I won’t be hospitalized for alcohol poisoning, I won’t be raped, I won’t be mugged, I won’t be murdered, and the list goes on..
 
It makes me remember that life in your 20’s is just as dangerous if not more than your teenage years.  Adults do not always make adult choices.
 
Do we know the differences between friends and acquaintances?  The “party friends” who mildly care about your well being but do care about how much you can drink, how long you can dance, how many free drinks you can land, and how many VIP lists your name can grace.
 
I am the first to admit I am as self-destructive as one can get, cannot always handle my liquor, and have little to no street smarts.
 
I’m working on all of the above and it’s a shame this incident had to happen for me to work even harder to make sure I am not the next..  Then again I have learned to not go out for a night on the town unless I am with one of my bestest because I know I am not responsible enough.  Fortunately I am responsible enough to realize I quickly spiral out of control.
 
Also, please note the “friend” who wrote the Visa inspired comment is the manager of the club where Jax was slipped G.
 
Proof that Chicago’s nightclub scene is not always “glamorous”.