There's no getting around it: I'm buck. (Wild, that is.)

Bitchy things I did this weekend:

Called the guy I was dating until about 3 weeks ago and proposition him (as a joke) in a voicemail (which then very clearly became an obvious joke, as I was laughing hysterically while leaving it). Except, he didn't get the memo it was a joke, and so when he called me back, an hour later, I disdainfully asked him "Why are you CALLING me?" He was fishing for an invitation, but I didn't bite. It was a joke, dude. I wasn't TRYING to be bitchy, I was just really at a loss as to why he would call me. It was a rhetorical voicemail.

Made out in a bar on a guy's lap. I looked up to see the same guy from paragraph 1 WALKING BY. Again, unintentional.

Tried to hide the fact that I was making out with that guy when another guy who was more my type starting hitting on me. He asked my girlfriend to be sure and give "the brunette's" number to his friend (who she was talking to) because he was in an "interesting" situation. I came to realize that the "interesting" situation was his girlfriend, who was with him in the bar. Right next to him in fact. Talk about the player playing the player. (PS This man could well be perfect for me. . .is it wrong that I DID give his friend my number. . .for when the "on-again-off-again" girlfriend is "off again"??)

While talking to a guy (the night before--how many do you think I can fit in one night?) and after my friend walked up and I introduced her, when she asked, "What happened to you?" proceeded to go into detail about how I'd walked into that room to find a guy I thought was really cute but I couldn't now find him, as though "George" had evaporated. Then I said, "let's go look for him," at which point, we walked away.

I feel certain I shook my head at several guys and said "unh-huh" or "no." 'Cause well, that ALWAYS happens.

Funny things I/we did this weekend:

Decided that all the "funny" drink names at Wet Willie's (Call-A-Cabs, Attitude Adjustments, etc.) should be renamed "Bad Sexual Choices." 'Cause that's what they cause you to make.

Asked virtually every guy I talked to about the length and girth ("by that, I mean circumference") of their physical attributes. Encouraged girlfriends to do same. One girlfriend, who shall remain nameless (and no, it's no one we "know" in this blogging world), verified said information IN THE BAR by copping a feel.

One girlfriend got a piggy back ride from a guy who felt the need to prove his masculinity, even though he was small. I'm not sure that she didn't outweigh him. She then proceeded to say, "The Little Guy's giving me a ride" and CLICK HER HEELS on his backside as though he were a horse. I almost fell in the street laughing.

Heard 2nd hand that the girlfriend who copped the feel got blown off by her prospect "Hosea" and the proceeded to say, "I just got blown off. He didn't even speak English" as though that were the insulting part.

Drunk dialed everyone I knew. Repeatedly.

Clever things I did this weekend:

Told some guys I was talking to, when my girlfriend summoned me out of the bar that "she had a relationship with Justin Timberlake. So now, any time his music plays. . .we just have to leave."

Proceeded to describe some of my recent hook-ups as "wise sexual choices" because most of the guys don't live in town and I won't have to see them again. I was quickly corrected with a "THAT'S a little strong." I almost sprayed diet coke in my car.

Slutty things I did this weekend:

Wore the Paris Hilton skirt. It's denim, it's pleated, it's short as hell. You don't feel like you're wearing anything. And in addition to looking like something Paris Hilton would wear, it apparently also causes me to ACT like Paris Hilton--buck wild, inappropriate, and lots of ass-shaking. I think it's retired after last night. (Along with the Too Busy to FCUK shirt my brother brought me back from French Connection UK. 'Cause that's trouble too.) On the upside, I did get LOTS of complements on my legs and all in all, I'm feeling pretty hot today.

Whilst wearing said skirt, proceeded to dance and do a lot of sultry well-timed leg lifting (Think Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights) as though the bar WANTED to see my ass.

See the paragraph above about making out in the bar.

See the paragraph above about verifying physical attribute information.