Bad Decisions Make Good Lessons


bad decision

Today is your lucky day, folks, because you’re going to get a triple-dose of super bad decisions.

When I was 17 years old, I was a weird (read: awesome) kid. My group of friends was an eclectic circle of sexually active marching band nerds, skateboarder bums, punkrock wannabes, rave freaks, self-righteous mock-UN members, and JV athletes (let’s be clear that I was Varsity, however). It was a damn wild ride—that’s for sure.

One part of my group of friends for a while had taken over—the punkrockers. This was such an exciting time in my life because this is when I started learning how to lie about “staying over my girlfriend’s house” when I would really go to garage parties. It was 12th grade and I was a late bloomer. My parents were military for crimony sake.

At one of these “garage parties,” I had met a guy that was half/half Hawaiian and Native American respectively. He used to brag about gathering free money from the government (about $1000/month) because of his Native American background and then would spend it frivolously on whatever drugs he could get his hands on. I actually did not know this when I first started to date the guy because I was so naïve, but later I discovered he was quite the coke-head. Regardless, I met him at this party, thought he was “so cool” and dangerous and it was all very enthralling for me—the goofy-as-hell 17 year old senior in HS with military brat background and wanting so badly to break the proverbial ‘goodie tooshoes’ mold (sp?).

This guy used to take me everywhere and it was so exciting. I met all kinds of people—most of them much older than me as him and I had a 6-year age gap—and even got to go to Hollyweird a few times. Everything was pretty f*cking fun until sh*t got a little till real after a few red flags.

Red Flag #1 – Meeting my father in an antichrist shirt

One weekend when he was going to take me to Hollywood to go to Amoeba Records and Universal City Walk, he showed up to my parent’s house in ripped jeans and a “Kill Jesus” t-shirt. My conservative, military parents were really thrilled about that one and I am sure they felt comfortable sending me off to Hollywood with the guy, too. In fact, my dad was so upset he threw a pan across the room and I stormed out before he could keep me home. It was the first time this 4.5 GPA honors student ever really broke the parental “trap.” And I was terrified the whole time after that, not only at coming home to my steaming father, but to all the crazy sh*t this guy was spewing on the way to Hollywood about being addicted to cocaine for four years and getting too skinny. Whoa… I liked the “idea” of you being a punkrocker, but please don’t heat up a spoon while I’m in the car with you…

Red Flag #2 – “I just have to stop by a friend’s house”

When we were on our way to a friend’s house for a 4th of July party out in the middle of butt-f*ck-Egypt USA (also known as “the boondocks”) he said he needed to stop by a friend’s house. I was really naïve at the time and didn’t really understand this encounter. We had never hung out with this person, he’d never mentioned her name before, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t cheating on me because he called me for hours every…single…night…and, I don’t know, something was not adding up. Yeah, I was sure it was a drug deal and was very anxious after that interlude.

Red Flag #3 – Stealing from his employer and then trying to come onto me afterward

Working was not something this guy really liked to do that much but he needed a “real” job. After a night of telling me that he could see music notes coming out of some speakers, which was alarming (not so much now knowing what I know), I was a little on edge. I ended up calling him and asking him to meet me after work. He took all day to call me back and when he did it was to tell me that he had been fired for “taking” something from work. WHO STEALS FROM WORK? Lunatic. Still, I was so enamored with this guy that I idiotically waited until later for him to come over and talk to me. My parents were out of town for the weekend and so like any good ol’ teenager, I threw a party. While my party was going on downstairs, I went upstairs—wasted—with him to talk about the unfortunately series of events. I recall saying something like “WTF is wrong with you, you’re better than that” and him saying something like “let’s get a little Hawaiin in you.” After that I kicked everyone out, including him after her helped me cleanup—it was the least he could do—and never spoke to him again after that for a long time.

THREE STRIKES, YOU’RE OUT! Man, for a girl that was a straight-A student and on her way to a good college education, I sure was stupid for getting myself into this mess. Several years later when I had gone off to college and had come back to visit old friends, he was still there in the same house (his mom’s, where he did not even have a real door, it was strings of beads) and lame town—now living with some drug-addicted, knocked-up girlfriend—and living off the government. WOW! You are sure doing well, mister. Can you say, “dodged a bullet!?”

The point is that we all make mistakes, or rather learn valuable lessons, when we’re young and rebellious. I, for one, am really happy to have made that mistake…and several others in life…so that I could learn from them. But man I tell ya, sometimes you feel like you just learn in the worse possible way!

Stay Sozzled, my friends!


Sex Party 101: Lifestylers are the New Swingers


As part of the self-proclaimed San Francisco ‘glitterati’ (we had several names), I had seen pretty much everything. Sex. Drugs. Partying until noon the next day. Tutus at 5:30am on a Wednesday morning as a leftover from a Tutu Tuesday party somewhere downtown. You name it, I probably saw it at some point. As an always open-minded person, nothing ever really rattled my feathers but I still had become quite a bit more desensitized to it all. Or so I thought!

Have you ever seen the movie Eyes Wide Shut? Well, all that sex party stuff—it’s very real and pretty much its own societal subset of lads and lasses. There are hierarchies, rules, cliques, fashion, niche personas, nomenclature, and pretty much anything you would think of that would make up some sort of half-respectable subculture.

When I moved out of San Francisco at the end of 2012, I thought I had escaped the Sex Party epidemic that seemed to be spreading effortlessly into every district encumbered within the city lines (and outside of sometimes); but I was clearly wrong. It seems that every big city has its own version of sly and slinky passion-pits.

Within the first few weeks of moving to Seattle I had actually made a few good friends through the Burner scene (if you don’t know what Burning Man is, you should Google it but don’t let it frighten you). I’m used to how eccentric some of those people are and can get and it never really bothered me. That whole ‘transcendence’ crap was actually becoming my cup of tea (sort of). However, I got a tad taken off guard whilst at an “ABC (Anything But Clothes) Party” when I went to go check out the upstairs ‘talent.’ The DJ talent, you pervs! Haha.

Everyone had great costumes. Costumes made out of paper bags, tape, gems, etc. If you’ve ever been to an ABC party you know what I’m talking about. My costume was personally made out of some fancy-schmancy paper I got at a craft store and my date was the solar system. Don’t ask. Anyhow, we were having a great time at the party dancing and mingling with our friends. The DJ was awesome downstairs, but this place was HUGE! I mean, it was basically a mini-rave. We had to go wonder and check out the other music rooms.

My date had decided to go grab us a couple drinks as I was talking to some people fantastically traffic-cone-and-reflector-clad. As I stood there, I noticed a non-descript set of stairs half behind a damaged curtain. The grossness of the curtain didn’t even come as a shock to me given that we were in some tavern-like hanger dancing to techno music. Plus, I was thinking “there’s got to be some dope music upstairs too and I want to check it out!” When my date returned with our drinks I told him about the creepy staircase and we went to go check it out.

As we reached the top of the stairs, we noticed a few people heading down that were basically naked. Did this set off any red flags with me? Not really. We were at a crazy party and people were half-naked as it is in their falling-off costumes. What happened next is what I was not prepared for. As we walked into the doorway all we could see was masses and masses of ornate pillows with groups of people f*cking on them. People jacking off watching other people get off, people f*cking doggy style, reverse cowgirls, sucking each other’s bits, I mean whoa. Alrighty then! My date’s mouth immediately dropped and I was just sitting there like a deer in headlights. I was expecting a DJ in here, man!

To say the least, I was taken by surprise. That’s not exactly what I was expecting at a party, upstairs, in some shack-like big building! Aren’t these people getting splinters!? Are they tested? WTF is going on!? My date and I had to crack a couple jokes to break the tension that had ensued; stuff like “how boring, they’re only doing missionary, we could totally show them up.” Except, I wasn’t really into showing them up and he was kidding. We both were not really down with the, eh hem, activities. When I mentioned the “swinger party upstairs” to someone at the party that I knew, they had corrected me that they were called “Lifestylers.” Well, I’m sorry I’m not cool enough to know the bang-a-rang terminology! I mean, seriously. Could this night get any more interesting?

Regardless of how crazy this night turned out, this story is not to be outdone by the numerous other fancy-pants…or no pants…flings I’ve been so lucky to accidentally stumble into and have discovered something more down under. In fact, if you keep reading, I will be posting other more fun stories and they get a lot weirder and more interesting, so buckle up for this racy rollercoaster!

In case you’re someone that has their mouth slightly agape at this new revelation, let me just say that Lifestylers are not bad people. Most of them, if not all, have very stable lives and jobs outside of their own little private freakshow. Some are married, some are single. Some are voyeurs interested in learning new moves as sort of a live Kama Sutra re-enactment, and occasionally, yes, you run into a complete inappropriate creep.

I am actually friends with many of these people and they’re great people. This “lifestyle” (you can see maybe where the term catches on) is definitely NOT for everyone, though. I metaphorically sit in a non-judgmental paradigm for sure, but it’s something I could never do. There is certainly a part of yourself you have to let go. And it just matter how much of your whole self you’re willing to compromise.

You have to let go wanting to ever be monogamous with someone and having an intimacy you share with only one lover, you have to give up feeling special in a way that to me isn’t worth losing how I define my self-worth—if that makes sense. At the same time, you have to hold on to your emotional intelligence. You and your partner need to be at a complete emotional and physical equality with each other.

All in all, you just have to be aware of what swinging is all about, be respectful and non-judgmental, but stay aware of the good and bad parts. Some people can be really pushy and clingy in these groups. Be smart in your interactions with people and don’t be afraid to hold your ground if you’re not interested. I, for one, will always be a spectator, but not a participant or a voyeur. To each their own!

From one Sozzled Sister to another – if you decide to jump into the f*ckfest with way too many moving parts, please stay coordinated and get tested!

WTF: Weird Piercing Trend


FaceHolesSince when do people think it’s OK to punch three-ring binder holes into their face!? This trend that has been seen to pop-up in Portland, OR, is one of the strangest things I’ve seen yet. I tried to imagine what would possess people do do this to themselves and just couldn’t get past my initial thought about the zombie apocalypse and drooling through a hole in your face. I mean, maybe it’s a way to see if you have gum disease faster or if you’re missing a tooth? After initially seeing this hit the social web, I got a bit more curious about it and did some research.

Turns out that this weird trend is actually something that has been going around for a while and it’s not a complete gaping hole. What they do is put an expander in their chin area, except the expander is made out of clear plastic. Some say this is a new way to “see your smile,” well I say this is a new window to your ‘better-be-flossed’ gumline. I mean, I’ve seen really gummy smiles, but this is a whole new level. What does it look like when they eat? We need a whole new meaning for “seafood!” Gross!

Either way, this makes me a little ill to look at and blurt out “WTF!?” Can I just pretend I never saw this? What do you guys think!?

Signing off for now,

Alphabet Soup. Better know as: “Death by acronyms.”


When you start working at Microsoft, be prepared to not know a damn thing about what anything anyone is talking about; at least at first. Microsoft uses acronyms about as freely as the Army does. Growing up, I was a true military brat. My father was in the Air Force and I was born on an Air Force base, and my mother was in the Army (retired Colonel). There were funny things that my mom and dad would say all the time that would leave me scratching my head, but eventually it became a sort of discombobulated language that my younger sister and I grew accustomed to hearing. Not that we always understood what the hell they were talking about–especially my mom, who seemed to take her “short-hand” to the extreme level of making up her own language.

When I first started working at Microsoft this year, this same feeling was all too familiar. People would be throwing out acronyms left and right that would make a college professor lose their mind. It’s funny because, MSFT “veteran” employees are so used to hearing these odd thrown together and ‘made-up-half-the-time’ acronyms that they automatically assume others should just be able to extrapolate and comprehend them immediately. Wrong! I call this the MSFT bubble. And for emphatic literary prose, I’ve been using the NYSE (NY stock exchange) acronym to write about Microsoft (MSFT).

Employees–err “softies” as people call them–at Microsoft are almost jaded to the fact that they have their own language. Some people that actually realize it’s ridiculous sometimes make jokes by saying things like, “Wait, do we have an acronym for that? I can’t move forward without an acronym,” and then they all crack up on their conference calls. The truth is that it’s all just hilarious. My mother used to call the Army’s overuse of acronyms “Alphabet Soup.” SO TRUE! IT IS ALPHABET SOUP! My goodness, I mean they even have their own internal dictionary to figure out what the hell anything means. This comes very much in handy when you’re first starting out…but then again you can’t even get to this glossary unless you’re connected to the intranet, but that’s for another blog post.

All in all, it’s all made worth it by the sheer curiosity I naturally carry with me in any job. Keeps me entertained and diving for answers all the time. That’s what helps me tick…a challenge.