world champions and heavyweight champions

i know it's been a while since i've posted. but something happened.

something i'd like to call the Cardinals winning the 2011 World Series Championship. (WwwOOOOOOOOooooOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! yes. yes. yes.)

i know you feel the same.

this is when my love for cardinal baseball and working at the stadium triples. times a million. for playoff and world series games, my days consisted of 12 hour shifts at the stadium. pre-game parties, post-game parties, clean up, again and again and again. until finally.... :) well, you know the ending.

the parties i worked were for AB, Cardinals, and MLB. A lot of media, press, draft pickers, analysts of stats, etc - some pretty high up people. Not that i would know who any of them are...

which leads to my next story. i was bartending a post-game party and was talking to a lady who i noticed was slightly more in shape than the average woman. let me rephrase that. she was buff. damn buff. and the guy she was with was huge. they have to be somebody i should know... body builders? weight lifters? competitors? fighters?

finally i just ask.

"so.. do you work out?" i ask the guy with biceps bigger than my head. when they laugh, i say, "no but really, are you somebody i should know?"

"you don't know who that is??" the woman asks, amazed.

i look back at my fellow bartenders, shake my head, "uh... no?"

"that's John Cena!" she says.

"uh......oh?"

"famous wrestler??" she continues in response to a lack of recognition on my face after hearing his name. apparently he is also an actor.

"oh, ok.... yeah, i don't watch wrestling."

so. this is who was at my bar --

pretty scary. and he and his wife go back and forth from making out to him pretending to get pissed and hit her.

not really sure what to do now, i say, "well, you guys look great."

"what about me?" says a bald, middle-aged man next to them at the bar.

"your hair just looks great," i say to him. while the rest of the crowd laughed, he wasn't pleased. after trying to coax him into forgiving me by offering the next round on me (at an all-inclusive food/drink party, this is strictly to be charming), he informs me that he is a retired pitcher for the cardinals. ...or at least he claimed.

.... note to self... start watching what i say...

i also heard the host of Real Housewives was at one of the parties. since i barely watch tv, and when i watch it i'm watching for pleasure, i don't know who he is either.

one night i meet a guy who drafts for the cardinals (living in Orlando) along with his father (living in New York), who is charmed by me. They met in st. louis for the game, but won't be back for any of the series. after telling me stories of wild times at buffalo bills' games, the father tells me that even though they aren't coming back to st. louis, he wants to see me again.

"now, i'm going to be watching the game tomorrow. i want you to run out onto the field - and even if it's too small too see your face, i'll know it's you." i happily oblige, and he says that if i ever attend a buffalo bills game i must find them. while knowing it will never happen, i really wish that i could.

needless to say i met a lot of people at these parties. and to top it off with winning the world chamionship, it's definitely an experience i never will forget.

what's my name

i'm very into guys who actually have the balls to come up and approach girls. but...

....i guess beggers can't be choosers.

last friday night (not unlike the katy perry song), a group of friends and i were downtown celebrating my friend anna's last weekend as a single lady (because he liked it, so he put a ring on it.... alright, i'll stop with the sing-a-longs). only there was a little confusion. the date of this bachelorette party was thought to be saturday night - by everyone but the bride. unfortunately, almost none of the other girls could come due to other engagements. so this "bachelorette party" was now basically a "forcing my roommates to go out with the soon-to-be mrs. and get her drunk" party.

[this is when my friend/roommate kylie tells me that if her bridesmaids didn't show up to her bachelorette party, she would kick them out of the wedding. she also tells me that if i don't get a stripper for the event, she will kill me. ]

we end up at Hair of the Dog on Washington Ave by anna's choosing. i have never been there before, but i notice that there are quite a lot of lesbian's there.

.....is this a gay bar? well this bachelorette party is taking a weird turn.....

turns out it's not a gay bar - just a full moon - and Anna's cousin is a bartender there. he makes us shots called "silk panties". the guy trying to chat me up thoroughly enjoys the name of this shot, although it just tastes like black licorice to me.

rewind a little to the man chatting me up. first of all, i am wearing heels. on an occasion where i choose to wear heels, i've described it this way to kylie: "if a guy wants to talk to me, he'll either have to be taller than me or he's gonna have to have some balls." ...or be really drunk.

the guy chatting me up was not taller than me.

he comes right up to me and introduces himself, taking my hand. hello.

then he interrogates, asking everything from what we're up to tonight, if we are from st. louis, our jobs, etc. we are pretty vague on our answers. i really don't give him a solid answer for anything, and i avoid all job-related questions because i really don't feel like talking about work right now. [i'm not telling you anything about me until you tell me a) you're a pro-baseball player b) you're related to a pro-baseball player c) you're a millionaire....or you at least somewhat charm me.]

so i give him the 3rd degree back. only this guy doesn't want to tell me anything about himself either. he will tell me he is from new york city (he shows me his new york drivers license when i say i don't believe him. um hey, i like, want to go there, take meeee). but he will not tell me where he went to school or why he is in st. louis for a few months...

um...ok?

this goes on for a few minutes before finally i get out of him that he is a business major from NYU, has an internship with Wells Fargo here, and is living in an apartment on Washington Ave that mommy and daddy pay for.

....

ok. if you're going to try to be mysterious, at least have something good to pull out of your ass. like a secret agent, or i don't know, illuminati or something.

so we were finally getting somewhere with the conversation, but now he keeps interrupting me when i'm in the middle of a sentence to tell me how beautiful i am. ok, 1. it's getting to be more than obvious that you are a little more than drunk 2. you're little mystery game was a disappointment and bullshit 3. you're shorter than me in my heels 4. listen when i'm fucking speaking.

and now i just want to get away from this guy.

as i'm trying to say sayonara, he's whipping out his phone. jesus. alright dude, you may think that because i spent the last 10 minutes talking to you, things are going to work out for you here. they're not.

after asking for my number, i reply, "alright, if you can answer me this: what's my name?"

his eyes freeze where they are, and i can see him searching his brain for any hint that could lead him to the answer. finally he hangs his head in sad defeat. and i had told him my name twice.

"bye, justin," i say and walk away, my friends laughing in his face as they follow me.