This blog is not for the light-hearted or easily offended. If either one of those descriptions applies to you, i would suggest you start drinking before you read this blog. A sense of humor is suggested. If you don't have one that sucks for you … find one and get a life!

In which i meet my husband

Before I begin the story I would like to wish my brother Bruce (who has a guest starring role in this story) Happy Birthday! Let’s begin the story …

I was 25 years old living in New York City … just chilling and having fun. I lived down in Soho in a nice one bedroom apartment by myself. It was pretty sweet. Not too soon after my famous mother-mother-daughter talk, I got dumped by this guy I had been seeing who was living in California. I only saw him occasionally because, if you know anything about geography, New York and California are on different coasts.

So, the guy dumps me on Monday and I decide, “That’s it. I’m done. Fucking guys! I’m never dating again.” On Friday, I had two friends from North Carolina (where I’m from) come up to stay for the weekend. It turns out that a few more girls are up from North Carolina too so on Saturday night, we all go out to The Manhattan Brewing Company aka The Thompson Street Brewery. This bar is literally next door to where I live since I live on Thompson Street in Soho. My brother Bruce, sulking because he was having girl problems, decided to join us and scowl all evening.

Now this bar was great. The downstairs had really, really long plank picnic-type tables with benches and they gave out peanuts which you just threw on the floor. The beer was really potent since they didn’t have to deal with all the “bottled beer” rules of alcohol content. The only bad thing about this place was that the bathroom was on the second floor so if you had to pee, you had a long way to go.

So, here we were: a bunch of girls drinking some really potent beer along with my scowling brother, just hanging out on a Saturday night in Manhattan. Having the smallest bladder in the world (it’s been documented), I had to go upstairs to the bathroom. On the way back down the stairs, I ran into two guys and started bullshitting with them. Turns out that they were with a bachelor’s party that had started about 36 hours before, and they were pretty wasted as well. They had rented a boat in New Jersey on Friday and sailed up to NYC and somehow ended up in my neighborhood bar. Anyways, where was I? Oh yeah, so I was standing on the stairs bullshitting with these two boys and this other “cute” boy came up to see if he could meet my friends (asshole). Somehow the other two boys disappeared and it was just me and this boy (Kevin) talking:

Cute boy:         “So … you stand like an athlete”

Me:                 “I am an athlete”

Cute boy:        “What do you do?”

Me:                “I play racquetball”

Cute boy:        “Are you any good”

Me:                 “I’d kick your ass”

(note to mom: I did not follow your advice)

Cute boy:         “Hey everybody! I like this girl. I’m going to date her and

then I’m going to marry her”

My brother:        “That guy is an asshole”

Cute boy:           “Can I have your number? And here’s mine …

just in case I lose yours, will you call me?”

And that was it! He was so drunk that by the time he sobered up we were married with three kids. HAHA! I’m going to tell you about our first date … but that’s a story for another day!

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2 Comments

  1. Carolina Mom
    August 25, 2010

    All right, I just spent a perfectly good 30 minutes reading your blog. This is so you–I loved it.

    We must re-connect. Although I have yet to organize a bunko game, you're too smart for that anyway. Besides, now I'm afraid, I'm VERY afraid!!

  2. Lynn MacDonald
    August 25, 2010

    Christy..thanks for checking it out. Please become a follower of the blog. When are we playing bunko? Or mahjong?

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