The Lost Weekend

The Lost Weekend

This weekend was a shitshow. It was my birth-weekend so obviously I had to go all out on all three days. I’m sitting at work wanting to shoot myself in the face and I’m about to slap the pastry chef who is blaring Spanish jazz music.

Let’s begin with Friday, the day of my birthday party. I went to work from 12-5 PM and it was very slow. Season is dying down here which is not very good for the restaurant business. Since there were so little reservations, I was lucky enough to be able to do some blogging in between making calls.

When 5PM rolled around, I pranced home to Brandon who had brought me lovely flowers. My party wasn’t until 11 so we had a couple hours to relax and drink together. I was already a little toasty by 9 PM when I started getting ready. I borrowed a beautiful taupe dress from my sister and paired it with my Gianvitto Rossi shoes and YSL clutch. We walked to my sisters work and picked her and Yaya up to head to “da club”.

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The rest of the night is a bit blurry. From what others told me, I was dancing like a wild woman, taking shots (which I rarely do anymore), and giving everyone kisses. I stood up from the table at 1 AM and announced that I would be leaving and I needed a club sandwich before stumbling out, clutching Brandon’s arm for dear life. He told me that I was furious when the McDonald’s drive thru attendant stated they had a limited menu.

Leaning over him, I yelled into the callbox, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T HAVE A THE CLUB SANDWICH? THE MCCHICKEN IS NOT THE SAME AND DON’T TRY TO ACT LIKE IT IS BECAUSE IT ISNT!”

Scary shit.

He carried me up to bed and rolled me into a blanket burrito.

The next day was my actual birthday. We woke up and couldn’t get out of bed. Brandon being the noble knight that he is got out of bed and fetched me a breakfast wrap. For that honorable deed, I am forever grateful.

He had said that he had a surprise for me on my birthday and I had been racking my brain trying to figure out what it was.

“Are we going to Haiti to watch a real cockfight?”

“No.”

“Are we going to wrestle alligators to the ground to make me a purse?”

“No.”

“Are we going to a trapeze class?”

“Um… No.”

We hopped in the car and drove out to the middle of nowhere. Like, cow town nowhere.

“I feel like you’re about to put me down.”, I stated, looking at the wildlife around me.

He laughed.

“I think you’ll love this.”

Guess where he takes me?

ON A FREAKING HELICOPTER RIDE AROUND JUPITER INLET.

It was so Christian Grey of him and the best gift ever. My jaw was dropped the whole time and I couldn’t get enough of it. Truly an amazing experience with the man I love.

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Afterwards, we drove back to my apartment and went to the beach for an hour or two. The water felt amazing paired with the adrenaline we were tipsy with. We later went to dinner with my dad, stepmom, and little sister at City Cellar and it was lovely. I was so nervous about him meeting my dad because of how hot and cold he can be. My dad can be a real dick but I guess that’s why he’s so good at his job. As a lawyer, he has to be a dick all day.

We were so tired that Brandon and I couldn’t even have birthday sex when we got home. Saturday was probably one of the best days of my life.

Here’s where it gets bad: Sunday.

The polo scene is very big in Wellington. About 80% of the people who live there play the sport. The polo season starts in December and ends in April with a game every Sunday. I used to go quite often when I was 13-15 but stopped because I was never in town and I found them to be boring. This year I went to the first game and my suspicions about it being boring were confirmed once again. The problem with this is that there is alcohol everywhere. The first time I ever got drunk was at a polo game when I was 13. There’s free champagne at halftime and alcohol brand sponsored tents so getting wasted is inevitable.

Palm Beach Polo is like a real life Lily Pulitzer ad. Everyone is in pastels and bowties and you are shunned if you aren’t dressed accordingly. I always wear black so I feel like I constantly stick out there which isn’t necessarily a good thing. Especially when I’m consuming large amounts of alcohol which I always do and end up regret attending.

 

    

See, I don’t care for children but for some reason whenever I get wasted, the maternal side of me comes out and I am constantly hanging out with kids. Like it’s almost too much and people probably think I’m a pedophile. I would rather hang out with innocent kids than talk to snooty, judgmental adults. My sister said she saw me bouncing on the dance floor with a child in my arms.

I think what kills me the most about this is that the parent’s didn’t even care. They were letting me, a drunk and wobbly girl with no muscle, hold their child. As soon as they saw that I was giving their child attention, they would say, “Oh can you watch her for a second? Thanks! BYE!” and run off to the bar. They were leaving their kids with a complete stranger. An inebriated complete stranger!

Except for Grant who asked me to not kidnap his kids. In my defense, he has two of the cutest little daughters in the world.

One mother even asked if she could borrow my wristband to go into the tent area so she could drink. Even in my drunken stupor, I shook my head and said no. I mean, how fucked up is that?

 

Anyways, Rachel and Caitlin dragged me away and brought me to actually eat something to sober up. Caitlin and Manuela asked if we wanted to go to Players Club and we declined. I hate that place. We ubered home and fell asleep watching The Royals.

Now, I’m sitting at work in dire need of a pack of cigarettes. This is probably the last place I want to be right now and I also have to study. I just want to go back to bed! Hope your Monday is going better than mine is.

xx,

Hungover Gurl

Questions: ask.fm/meganemk

Instagram: @meganemkennedy

Email: Meganemk4@hotmail.com


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