girl blog

I went shopping Monday night at the MOA for a pair of jeans... my birthday gift from the parents (well, a gift card to be used for jeans). I get to the Lucky store, and I'm looking at my slim bootlegs, $115.00 full price. Damn. But I gotta have 'em. The store attendant helps me find a few of my sizes to try on, so I take a few pair and I start trying 'em on. And then, as I'm changing, he says to me through the curtain that there's one pair in my size and style that are half off! Half off! HALF OFF! I felt like I got away with something. I also wanted to immediately phone one of my girlfriends to brag. Okay not really.

I recently bought beauty products from the Avon lady. Enough said, right? (Not so fast on the judgment... JUSTIFICATION: The Avon lady is actually my good friend, I'm actually in her wedding, and she says she picked up the Avon gig as a second job to raise money for the wedding. In my eyes, I'm supporting the wedding. So there. :P )

My regular hair product (got 2 be mousse) either isn't being made anymore or the stores around here aren't selling it anymore. After checking a fourth different store for it with no luck, the panic began to set in. I felt generally unhealthy for, like, an hour. I settled for a similar product by the same manufacturer, but not the same as my regular product. I'm going to pull out my hair if I don't like it. (I suppose I could purge the internet... yeah that sounds like my obsessive self.)

(This recent trifecta of events... well... it seemed like a bit much for a male in too short of a time span. I felt I had to address it. Is that weird?)

Distractions... and something else

I thank my lucky stars for them. My distractions include: hanging out with friends, watching entire TV series in minimal sittings, reading, blogging, hockey, hockey, making ill-advised purchases at the mall, cooking... I am so grateful to have these distractions as they allow me to flip the switch to completely block out the stresses of ninetofive. (More like ninetoseven). (I'm not saying I hate my job, not at all. It's the highs that make it great, and the lows that make me a crab some days.)

I swear it's like night and day some days. I was told I was a crab at work today. (Being called a crab is kinda funny, I just picture a red crab with a pouty face...) Tonight, as with many nights, hockey saved me. And we even lost. And I'm sitting here in a great mood. It's just so helpful sometimes that I had to give it a shoutout. Thanks, hockey.

And... I'm adding another distraction, Wednesday bowling league. It's just down the road, 4 to a team, 2 hours of bowling (~3 games I hear), pizza, and a pitcher of beverage for $15. FUN. I suck at bowling. It's all about the fun. Can't wait... starts 2nd week in Feb.
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Now I'm going to go off on a mostly unrelated subject... McDonald's.

I have a buddy who lives somewhat near my place, and I'm over there quite a lot. When I'm over there and we feel the need go out to grab some quick food, his later-in-the-night options really kinda suck. At that point in the night, nobody wants to go to the grocery store and make something... we want our fast food damn it, and we want it now.

Anyways, the late-night options nearby are: McDonald's to the South, and McDonald's to the West. (Insert expletive and vomit sound here) And there have been instances where I fail my duty to pre-plan for the night and end up succumbing to the convenience and horror of 'dons. (Lately, it has been given the nickname "'dons", commonly referred to in our circle of friends in the phrase "sack-of-'dons". I think that makes it sound worse. Just picture it. "Sack-of-'dons". As opposed to "Mickey D's", which isn't so bad. "Sack-of-'dons". Bleh.)

The point I'm sort of getting to is that before our hockey game tonight, my friend decides to make a totally unnecessary confession. We're in the locker room and he says "Oh man, I shouldn't have eaten that sack-of-'dons right before we play." I felt sick right there.

Another has to ask "What'd ya get?!" (well, someone had to). And the answer was "Three McChickens, a double cheese and a fry". I'm seriously, not even kidding, ready to puke for real now. Why, why, why, WHY would you ever do that to yourself before a hockey game?!?!?!?!??!! You could realistically ask why anyone would do that in the first place, period.

It gets worse. Someone chimes in "Man, you should go poop out that 'dons before you play." Just shoot me. We should have forfeited the game right there. Everyone listening to this (which was everyone) was now, to some extent, more queasy than they were five minutes earlier. That pretty much equates to you're-gonna-have-a-bad-game. And lose. (Ok maybe I'm unfairly blaming our loss on this. But there's no way it helped.)

And yes, someone added the "You shouldn't have had that sack of 'dons before the game" comment as we lugged our smelly losing asses back into the locker room.

Which actually reminds me of another McDonald's-related story about me...

If the following were a post in itself, it would be entitled "I'm an Idiot".
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It was sophomore year in college, and we lived on frat row, far, far away from the engineering school that I had to walk to (for the record, I was not in a frat). It was over a mile away. And in the winter, this walk sucked. And I had some, what I would call, "early" classes. (Yeah yeah, 8:50 AM class, in reality, is cake). So, I felt I "deserved" to have McDonald's breakfast on these days. And a lot of times, I did.

More often than not, I got the bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit meal with hash browns and OJ (nasty, nasty concentrated OJ). If I was really hungry, I also got the two apple pies for a buck. (I'm sorry if this makes you sick. I actually still like McDonald's breakfast but when I get it now, I feel much more guilty than I did back in 2003.)

Anyways, one winter day, I have an early class, and I stop at McDonald's for breakfast. I'm hungrier than normal that day, so I get the two pies in addition to the norm. In the end, I end up eating just one of the two pies. It's a Thursday. (Wondering why I'm mentioning what day it was?) I stick the uneaten pie in my backpack. (Uh oh, do you see where this is going yet...)

Thursday passes.

Friday passes.

Saturday passes.

SUNDAY passes.

And... it's Monday night, it's around 9 PM, and I'm in my room studying Physics 201 (this is a vivid memory). Hunger is setting in. Since I sometimes leave goodies in my backpack and it's nearby, I grab the backpack to scavenge. (Uh oh.) I. Find. The. Apple. Pie.

There is a ten-second sequence where I: stare at the red unopened pie box, raise my eyebrows, think about whether pies can go bad or not, and since I can picture regular apple pies sitting out on a kitchen counter for a few days and staying good, I think "Hey, maybe it's still good."

I decide to open it and use what it looks like to determine whether it's still good.

Read that last sentence one more time.

I then step past the point of no return. Like the Nicholas Cage movie, it's gone in 60 seconds.

Epilogue

30 minutes later I was in the bathroom ralphing my guts out.

I'm an idiot.

Goal: Fun. Achieved? Yes.

Oh what fun. 12+ hours of non-stop fun with a ton of good friends and fam. Now I'm thinking... whose party do I get to plan next? ^_^

Bonus, I have a bunch of leftover food too... no cooking for a few days at least. And they're good leftovers too. Because they're mine :) Hand-made burgers with all of the fixins and pasta salad. i gun git fat this week

And now... concerning that "w" word that I try not to talk about on here... well, okay maybe I won't. I will hope for the best. Should be an interesting start to the year at least, with back-to-back week-long trips to end February to San Fran and then Vegas (AGAIN, I know, yah yah but this is for work...) and then to San Antonio in March. Very exciting for me, as the whole "traveling for work sucks" thing hasn't quite hit me in my young professional career... I'd still file myself under the "honeymoon stage" when it comes to travel, anywhere. I'm pretty sure it will get older as I continue to travel... I see the different stages of the "traveling for work sucks" syndrome in many people I work with and talk to, but hey, maybe I'm one of the lucky ones that will always love it. I can sleep on planes, I'm sure that helps. How the crap did this paragraph end up being the longest when I said I wasn't gonna talk about it? I do that sometimes. (End the paragraph. You're rambling.)

Decisions

Topic #1: Food for party on Saturday.

Do I...

A) Spend X amount of dollars at the grocery store and get a large volume of food, leaving me the responsibility of prep and cooking it? That. Is. A. Lot. Of. Work. I know from experience, dude. No, seriously, two years ago it took me all of Friday night and six hours on Saturday to cook for about 35 people. Lot. Of. Work.

Or do I...

B) Use my birthday gift from my parents to get a considerably smaller portion of food catered? I also must consider the fact that people will arrive at significantly different times, so I do want to have options to have relatively fresh items for everyone... meaning many catered hot items would not be ideal.

Topic #2: I now realize I did a horrible job in naming this post. The looming decision above (topic #1) has apparently tricked my mind into thinking I had more to think about. Well, I suppose if I did cook, I would have to pick a menu...

Okay, enough with the decisions crap. Weekend recap time.

Friday: Pretty much a boys night. Some food and drink at a local place and some late night poker. Good times.

Saturday: Pond hockey. Then... a movie that I feel I should be kicking myself for not seeing earlier... Forgetting Sarah Marshall. SO FUNNY. I think it's my favorite Judd Apatow movie. Seriously. I died.

Sunday: Played the game of cook-something-in-my-friend's-kitchen-using-only-ingredients-on-hand. The end product was an au gratin potato dish with bacon. Simple. Sinful. Good. That went along with some good playoff football. Hockey ended the weekend, and it got a lil' bit chippy... that's men's hockey. Only one fight, no police involvement, not too bad. Some great weekend stories over some apps and drink afterwards closed off a pretty low-key but fun weekend.

Today: H-cut and pond hockey. Pretty not bad for a Monday.

Rest of week: Make that decision. And prep. Prep for what should be another fun b-day...

Winter in MN

A few topics regarding winter in Minne-soh-tah.

One. That's actually how I say Minnesota. Minne-soh-tah. I've recognized and accepted that I have the up-north Midwestern accent that was depicted in the movie Fargo. Well, maybe they took it a bit far. But it's definitely there.

Two. I FINALLY got out-friggin'-side this past weekend. Pond hockey Friday night, pond hockey Saturday afternoon, and snow tubing Saturday night. Note: "Pond" hockey does not mean I played on a pond. I actually rarely play on ponds. I have now used the word "pond" too frequently in the past few sentences and it is losing its meaning. Weird how that happens sometimes.

Three. When it snows say, 3-4 inches, on a work day, everyone with a drive home over four miles DREADS that ride home. It'll be 2:30 in the afternoon, you'll look outside, and you're like, "Shit." You know what's coming. I'll describe mine today:

I'm gonna leave early, beat rush hour, and make up the work hours later in the week so I can get to my buddy's house to make spaghetti before "24" starts at 7. I leave work at 5, thinking I can get to my place to grab the ingredients and make it to his house by 6. I know of side roads that can get me to my place in 30 minutes, tops, even on a crap weather day like this. I'm smart.

I check the clock on my car as I leave the parking lot, it's 5:08 PM. I get to the side road, plug along, and there isn't really much more traffic than I anticipated. Maybe I'll get home in 25 minutes... this isn't so bad. Then I see the back end of the cars farther back than I've EVER SEEN on this back road. Apparently others are smart and have learned how to use Google maps. Oh well, I can still probably make it home in 35 or so. I see the distant traffic lights turn green through the blur of the fat snowflakes. I don't move. The light turns yellow, then red. I begin to move. Slowly. I move about 10 cars up and dread sets in. But it's okay, I preheated my car, I'm listening to a new mix I made last night, and I have a fun evening of spaghetti, 24, and hockey waiting for me.

Fast forward 30 minutes. I've moved about four miles out of the eight to my apartment, and I'm in another cycle of sitting through traffic lights. I'm beginning to realize I won't be making it to my friend's house by 6. Oh well, he has DVR and we can start it whenever we want. I like this new mix I made. But this traffic is getting old...

Fast forward another 15 minutes. I'm in ANOTHER one of these traffic light waiting cycles. The morons (yes, morons) in front of me are taking their sweet-ass time moving when the light turns green. I'm about 13 or 14 cars from the front. It's a longer cycle and I've been sitting idle for almost the entirety of Christina Aguilera's "Beautiful". (Joke.) (Joke!) (Or is it?!) I peek my eyes left and right at the perpendicular traffic lights, and they finally go from green to yellow to red. We're next. D'oh! Forgot about the frickin' green arrows. Green arrows go to yellow arrows, then disappear. Finally our light turns green. Okay people, gun it. Go. Go. Come on. Go. GO. Make it. Make it. MAKE IT. MAKEITMAKEITMAKEITMAKEIT DAMN IT. I'm second in line behind some wuss I am considering rear-ending. UGH.

Fast forward five minutes. I make it through that horrendous cycle, and I'm just on the other side of the intersection in the left lane of two lanes, and we have to merge. Well, the people from the right have to merge, I'm smart and have strategically positioned myself in the left lane. It is bumper-to-bumper. I don't even think about allowing more than 10 feet of space to develop between me and the guy in front of me so the idiots in the right lane don't pull a fast one and cut me off. I thought ahead and made sure I was in the correct lane, damn it, so don't you even THINK of jumping in front of me, buddy. (Well, when we get to the absolutely-must-merge-now point, I have a rule: I will let one person over. One. One. ONE, damn it.) It gets to that point and I let the one person in. And... the jackass behind him thinks he can scoot behind him and also merge. Uh, NO?!?!?!?!?! I post up behind the just-merged guy and don't let more than 1 foot of space develop between him and me. The guy in the right lane trying to scoot in does the same. Who wins? The guy that thought ahead and is already in the lane that doesn't end. THAT'S ME. Flick me off or get pissed, whatever, I'm not letting two people in. (Moron.)

It took me 56 minutes to get back to my apartment, and I make it home in nine minutes on a good day. I said precisely nine minutes and didn't round off to 10, because nine minutes is awesome and you know it. Saying 10 minutes could mean 14 minutes. Think about it. It's true. You know you've done this before. Recap: nine minutes on a good day, 56 today. Depressing.

Fast forward to tomorrow morning. Thousands of company dollars will be wasted away in the conversation topic of "How long did it take you to get home?" Many responses that include "Wow!" and "Oh my gawd!" will be uttered, and as word gets around, people will direct you to the lady that had the two hour and 47 minute commute. You will go and ask her about it, and she will tell you, with more enthusiasm than she will put into any other conversation that day, that it took her "TWO HOURS AND 47 MINUTES TO GET HOME LAST NIGHT". Welcome to Minne-soh-tah.

Back to life, back to reality

Monday: I am a pile. It takes me a good hour of hitting the snooze to get up. I have a subtle, yet very visible new layer of bad on the bod. I get home and lift weights while watching Saw IV from the Redbox and while cooking a 12-serving brown rice/steak/vegetable slop food mess for the week. After the opening scene that reminds me of a horrible car wreck that is just plain horrible but you can't make yourself look away, I manage to limit my jumps from being freaked out to one and manage to get my appetite back enough to eat. Guess I'll have to see Saw V now. I get to bed at 1 AM.

Tuesday: I am a pile. It takes me a good hour of hitting the snooze to get up. After work I run some errands, stop by a friend's house to pick him up and head to the first game of the winter hockey session for the team that I run. I hope most have brought money. Most do, but I'm still short. I am briefly disgusted with the fact that I'll have to nag people for another week. We play last session's champs that we have lost to twice. We... win?! Maybe we are good again this session. I have an awesome runner's high the entire way home and have new-found lung capacity to sing Green Day the entire half-hour ride home. My runner's high prevents me from even getting to my bed until 2 AM.

Wednesday: I'm a semi-pile. It takes me a good half-hour of hitting the snooze to get up. I dread my evening of what I would guess to be six loads of laundry, a result of my two weeks of going nuts. I get home and begin laundry; I am fortunate to have three pairs of washers and dryers at my disposal. I check to make sure they're open and go to grab my first three loads of seven (I had more than I thought). A woman snakes into the laundry room as I am walking towards it, and I am down to one washer and one dryer until she's done. DAMN IT. I start the one load and go to grab dryer sheets. I'm out. DAMN IT. I bolt to Cub to get some and grab some groceries while I'm at it and make it back just as my first load in the washer is finishing up. I see that the woman has another two loads. DAMN IT. I start another load and go back to my apartment to clean and lift weights and do funny-looking exercises with my new exercise ball. I go back to check on the laundry status and finally the lady is done and I can begin 3x-ing my loads. I start another load and get back to exercising. Another load finishes and I re-load. I go down to vacuum my car and clean the dashboard. I get back upstairs and start my final dry cycle and fold and put away the cleans. I eat straight blue cheese and carrots to kill time and hunger. The final load finishes and I retrieve it, fold it, and put it away. It's 12:45 AM. DAMN IT. So much for getting a good night's sleep this week. At least it was a productive day...

Thursday: I'm not really a pile anymore, but it is still hard as hell to get up after seven hours of sleep when I needed about nine or ten. I only hit the snooze for 18 minutes. I get my oil changed and car washed on the way home from work. I get home, eat blue cheese and a yellow onion caramelized in EVOO (weird...). I go down to the exercise room and BONUS, they have installed an LCD TV. I set the elliptical timer for an hour and get started. A few minutes later, another dude comes in and starts going nuts on the treadmill. Note that I have this horrible need to be competitive in situations where it is COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY so I decide that I'm going to outlast this guy. 40 minutes pass and oh, shit, my crappy old iPod mini battery runs out. Nine times out of 10 I quit within five seconds of that battery dying. But the guy on the treadmill is still going, and so I press on to beat him. I get to 50 minutes, and he quits. I win. Haha. I go the full 60 and am near collapse. Now I sit here with another great runner's high, all my chores done, and a completely open slate for the weekend. LIFE IS GOOD.

2-week summary, 3-week forecast

The past two weeks probably contained the least amount of stress I've felt the entire year. (I don't know if that last sentence even makes sense... I'll blame the Nyquil.) While workouts do provide that wonderful sense of accomplishment upon finish (and a great healthy release of endorphins), it's the whole act of working out that is stressful (again, the Nyquil). The past sixteen days (three weekends, two weeks in-between) contained only a single night of hockey, a lot of fun, and no other forms of exercise. (I did make a few attempts at gathering a group to play some pond hockey, but honestly, I sometimes think I have some annoyingly lazy friends in that respect... but that's a whole other story I won't go into now.) Anyways, this temporary lifestyle has had some predictable effects on my physical condition, and I'm actually excited for the next few weeks as I get to whip myself back into shape. (Also, wow, I sometimes re-read sentences that I have just written and realize what a nerd I am.)

As of this moment, I figure I'm in my worst possible physical condition I could possibly let myself get into. Normally, I fluctuate between 142 and 145 pounds. If I were in what I would call my peak physical condition, I'd have an almost dangerously low body fat percentage with a reasonable amount of muscle, and would presumably weigh in at something like 137-140 pounds; I think my love of food will prevent that from happening anytime soon. With that said, I just weighed myself and tipped the scales at a whopping 149 pounds. I don't know why, but this makes me chuckle. Maybe it's because I know, know, that I will be able to get myself back into my desired shape within a week or two, whereas I know there are plenty of (brutal honesty warning!) posers out there that have set forth a New Year's resolution to begin regularly dieting and exercising (which probably includes a brand-new gym membership), and will fail.

It's not hard, people. Take in fewer calories than you consume and get active a few times a week. Calorie counting is easy (and fun!). (Nerd alert #2).

Moving along... I have a birthday party to plan and execute. The past few years have been both extremely fun, but I know there were planning mistakes that could have been prevented. (On a side note, I don't think I'll ever be 100% satisfied with anything I'll ever plan. I'm just too critical of myself. Nerd alert #3). While there are some things I feel I can improve upon in planning, there have been some occurrences that come with the territory of planning a party with 20+ attendees in a situation where alcohol is involved. I won't list past years' funny (well, funny now) follies, but let's say that those follies are now stories that will be told for quite some time. I won't say to those attending to try to not do this or do that, because, well, shit happens. It's all in good fun. And that's the point, to have fun. Fun fun fun. (Nyquil is definitely setting in.)

Finally, I'll discuss Nyquil (you know, why I keep referencing it). For the record, I rarely use Nyquil as a sleeping aid, but given my past two weeks' typical sleep schedule, I'd probably get to bed tonight at around 3 or 4 AM. To back up my claim that I rarely do this, I'll say that I've honestly had the same bottle of Nyquil for the past year or more. With that said, I'll say that my usage of Nyquil tonight will rapidly help me to more quickly change back to a sane sleep schedule for work and productivity purposes. It really does the job. (Whoa. I just wrote an entire paragraph on my Nyquil usage. Did not know that was possible. Nerd alert #4. Proof-that-Nyquil-is-working point #4. Wait, was there ever an official count started for that? Nerd alert #5.)

I'm cutting myself off from blogging under the influence of Nyquil now. Good night.

Psych. (Nerd alert #6).

I have to rant about the Vikings, just a little. DAMN IT, USE COMMON SENSE! DON'T PASS THE BALL ON SECOND DOWN WHEN YOU'RE RUNNING OUT THE CLOCK TO END THE HALF AS IT CREATES THE POSSIBILITY THAT YOU THROW AN INCOMPLETE PASS, STOP THE CLOCK, AND GIVE THE EAGLES THE OPPORTUNITY TO MAKE A LAST-SECOND SCORE AFTER YOU PUNT! JUST RUN THE DAMN BALL! WHY ARE THE VIKINGS SO DAMNED FRUSTRATING?! DON'T DO DUMB CRAP THAT NONE OF THE OTHER 31 TEAMS IN THE NFL COULD EVEN FATHOM DOING! End rant :) But seriously :( But it's just a game :) But I'm still irked :( And still crying :*( Ok I'm not really crying :) (Umm, nerd alert #7)

Ok for real I'm out this time. Good night.

About last night....

Hey look, I know I'm no Nostradamus, but as for last night's prediction, I was PRETTY DAMN CLOSE. So yeah, it was so much fun. So much fun. Even got to start the night off with sushi, a rare occasion for me as I don't know a lot of sushi-goers to for regular accompaniment.

Today, another rarity goes down as the Vikes are in the playoffs. I'll be cooking for a group... bacon bleu cheeseburgers. Mmmmm. Should be a fun finish to the last four-day weekend for quite some time.

NYE, boys' night, and a b-day

NYE: Sh*t show. Tons of downtown fun. We started at a friend's (rather awesome) apartment, and then headed out to mingle. With every bar packed and every bar flaunting an over-the-top cover of something like $25, I, by some miracle (or charm?!), spent $0. ZERO dollars. In Canadian currency, this is $0 CD. In Chilean pesos, this is 0 CLP. In Japanese yen... (Okay, now I'm just being a jackass. I'll stop.) I had no intention of being a leechy cheap bastard either, it just, sort of, happened I guess? I just can't get over this fact. I did, however, spend (well, lose) something... and it is unfortunate as I was maximizing the nerd pleasure potential of my BRAND NEW HARVEY DENT COIN, you know, the exact replica of the two-sided heads coin used in The Dark Knight (it came with the movie)... and I LOST IT. By some nerd logic, this saddens me. The same nerd logic is also bringing on a sense of fear from a football jock knocking my books out of my hand for uh, BEING SUCH A NERD. (I'll probably buy another one. In secrecy.)

Hockey party last night. A keg, party snacks, and a lack of estrogen combined for a pretty fun boys night. 'Nuff said on that.

Tonight: White Bear Lake HS classes of '01 and '02 invade downtown for the annual birthday party of one of the '02 girls. My predictions, by time:

7 PM 9 PM: Girls gather at hotel, boys gather at one of boys' apartments in Minny Apple. Casual cocktailing and light conversation commences.

9 PM - 10 PM: Boys make contact with girls, agree on meeting spot.

10:30 PM: Both separate parties yell at others in their party to get their crap together so they can leave.

10:40 PM: Girls leave to meeting spot.

10:50 PM: Girls arrive at meeting spot.

10:55 PM: Guys leave to meeting spot.

11:00 PM: One girl calls one guy to see where guys are at.

11:05 PM: Guys arrive at meeting spot.

11:07 PM: Guy orders birthday girl shot.

11:08 PM: Birthday girl complains saying choice of shot is "too strong" and "something I can't do".

11:09 PM: Birthday girl and guy buying take birthday shot.

11:25 PM: Girls contemplate dancing on pole in center of bar.

11:30 PM: As a group, girls approach pole in center of bar. Girls hang around pole and continue contemplation.

11:33 PM: A few girls get on pole and dance while giggling profusely.

11:34 PM: Guys notice girls are on pole. Pointing, laughing, and gawking commence.

11:37 PM: One guy contemplates dancing on pole in center of bar.

11:39 PM: Guy contemplating dancing on pole volunteers to get round of shots for the boys.

11:43 PM: Guys do round of shots.

11:44 PM: One guy in group complains "What the hell was that we just took?!"

11:45 PM: Shot-buying guy re-contemplates getting on pole.

11:47 PM: Shot-buying guy sees open pole and GETS ON POLE (!)

11:48 PM: All girls and guys see guy on pole. Pointing, laughing, and yelling commence.

11:48:15 PM: Guy gets down off pole with smirk on face.

11:49 PM: Guy that just got off pole receives barrage of comments and questions from rest of guys, many of which reference sexual preference.

12:15 AM: One guy suggests a change of location.

12:18 AM: Word gets around and there are mixed feeling on location change.

12:29 AM: Idea of location change is brought up again.

12:37 AM: Group is split up with some going to new location, some staying at original location by choice, and some staying at original location not knowing any of this is going on.

12:53 AM: Guy that stayed at original location asks another in group "Hey, where did _____ and _____ go?" They are told, and the response to this is "What the hell?!" A brief wave of mild anger arises and quickly passes.

1:06 AM: Rest of group at original location gathers and goes to meet rest of group at second location.

1:13 AM: Entire group is back together at 2nd location. Most are on the dance floor.

1:17 AM: Two guys in the group dance wildly like it's their job. 3-4 girls follow suit.

1:19 AM: More guys find courage to dance wildly. More girls follow suit.

1:23 AM: One from group goes to bathroom, sees view of dance floor from afar and realizes that the group has taken up a large portion of the dance floor, with many watching. The group is having more fun than anyone else in the place.

1:42 AM: Guy in group is asked to leave for "being too drunk". Group of guy leaves with guy that was asked to leave. Food is sought by new sub-group.

1:57 AM: Rest of group leaves. Some girls get cab back to hotel. Remaining guys and some girls also seek food; call first-to-leave sub-group.

2:10 AM: Some type of fourth-meal is eaten by majority of group.

2:29 AM: Rest of girls get cab back to hotel. Guys head back to apartment.

2:32 AM: Guy pushes one guy into snow. Majority of group takes part. Hysterical laughing commences.

2:34 AM: Some guys suggest going out "elsewhere". Some go, some continue to apartment.

2:39 AM: Group of guys reaches apartment. Half immediately claim prime sleeping spots. Other half raids fridge. Loud, obnoxious conversation and laughter commences.

Of course I could go on, but I'll stop there.

No matter what happens... :)