Because it takes me seven minutes to shower, do nothing with my hair, and pick up any old thing off the floor, I had lots of time to drink with. Gymnast made me her signature drink, a combination of Stoli O and Champagne. She is that legendary. She has her own drink.

I drunk dialed my mom. Then I asked my sister to teach me how to "drop down and get my eagle on," without knowing how fucking hard a maneuver it is. I was wearing my white filter. I couldn't get it. "Don't they have a Sylvan Learning Center for this shit or something?"

We headed outside and were walking to our cars when I noticed that BunnySister was being pulled in the direction of Jojo's car; not pulled as in he had her by the arm, but more of a stray planet caught in a gravitational pull. See this is how Jojo works. It's magical. I grabbed one of her disgustingly svelte appendages (she teaches HipHop for a living) and whispered, "No no no, sweetie. Lone girls are not safe in Jojo's car."

We went to a bar called J Patrick's for the Midwestern well-mannered corn-fed beef I promised my sister Chicago is laden with. Well, I failed. Instead there were three couples, a latent homo in love with Tucker, and a few emo waitresses. BunnySister ordered beers for everyone, and then in a retaliatory moment decided to tell them that my father had to install a hotel strength toilet in our bathroom when we were growing up because I kept clogging the regular strength one. She also mentioned that I wasn't allowed to eat cheese when I was young. Christ this is embarrassing.

To top it all off, she told Jojo I wouldn't let her ride with him. He began calling me "Little Big Shit," a moniker Tucker has eagerly adopted. Saddened by this, I pouted over to the life-sized dancing Frankenstein on the bar and shook my butt back and forth like a four year old.

We picked up Sharts at a bar called TaToo. I was rather excited to go to Tattoo because I love girls with Tattoos, but there was an enormous line out front so we decided to go straight to Heavenly Bodies. Sharts jumped into Jojo's car, and this is when we lost BunnySister to the magic. She dove for the car while stopped at a red light in the middle of traffic. Sometimes the magic is just too strong.

Tucker drove, and this explains why we were lost in the suburbs for an hour or so.

We met up at Heavenly Bodies and stole a table from a fat pedophile. We drank many beers, and when the music got good, we started to dance. A man with a headset came over and told us to stop. I assumed it was because I have no rhythm. But he told my sister and Gymnast to stop too. In fact, we weren't allowed to leave our seats for anything but the bathroom. Fascism was in full force. I drowned my anger in Bud Light and flirted with the waitress. "Hi sweetie, you're hot. Do you know what fascism is? No? Do you know what cunnulingus means?"

I picked out a girl for a lap dance, and when I returned from it Bunny Sister and Gymnast were gone. I assumed they were peeing, but then noticed that Gymnast's boyfriend was gone too. They were getting lap dances. What the hell kind of backwards world am I stuck in? This is my territory! Those are my lap dances. I'm the crazy one. You two are the ones that know what 401k means.

This behavior continued. In fact, Gymnast and her boyfriend were in the VIP room all night with the SAME hot blonde. I was shocked by their lack of decency. And when I masturbated to lesbian porn later, I said to myself, Bunny, you can't hang out with them anymore. They are too wild.

So all in all, it was a good weekend, IF YOU WERE ONE OF MY FUCKING HOUSE GUESTS. BunnySister got her well-mannered corn-fed beef, though it was from Florida. Ironically. Wink wink.

And I... well, I got my "Lesbian Licks" magazine and a real bad hangover.

And don't you worry. I'm already thinking of ways to one-up them when we go to Vegas next spring. I'm thinking of something involving anal beads and AstroGlide. Any and all suggestions are welcome.