Friday, February 11, 2011

Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? Part 2 (ANSWER)

Thank you to all my lovely guessers in the most recent edition of "WHERE IN THE WORLD IS HAUTEMESS?"
Carmen Sandiego, is that you??

A quick Cliff Notes reminder of my favorite clues:
- People love rodents down here.
- Asshole kids everywhere.
- Old people sexin it up without a condom...STDs run rampant.
- I got drunk by myself at Wizarding World of Harry Potter

If you guessed FLORIDA, then you are only half right.....

If you guessed Disney, then you are almost right...

If you guessed ORLANDO, then you get one free drink or makeout sesh from me next time we see each other at a bar!!! :)

This city has quickly gone from amazing to the 8th circle of hell (not quite the 9th circle...yet).  Harry Potter could not have been better...(Larry Bird is sitting in bed with me right now as proof!)

However, after going out on "the town" last night I was inspired to start a new blog.  I shall call this new creation "What Your Husband Is Doing."  My descension into hell began after dinner last night when we walked out of a ridiculously delicious and expensive meal where our amazing waitress served us twinkies as a surprise pre-dessert after overhearing a conversation about how little respect Little Debbie gets...that bitch was the shit growing up.

But I digress.  Anyhow, several filet mignon and twinkies later, my work team stepped out into the streets and slammed right into "Little New Orleans."  There were 2 competing bars next to each other with promoters shouting at us and begging us to come hang out.  They offered free cover and free drinks for ladies until midnight.  No self respecting bar has to lure you in with HOURS of free drinks.  RED FLAG #1.

We walked in while they were playing "Apple bottom jeans, boots with the ferrrr..."  Apparently, I missed the memo on dress code...I forgot my ho uniform.  Every chick in there was under 24, over 36DD (most overweight as well), and wearing a 4 inch skirt with boob cleavage and ass cheek cleavage.  RED FLAG #2.

To balance out the young female flesh, the place was filled with older men (likely attending some sales conference for work) wearing suits or polos with their respective company logos on them and their wedding rings in their front pocket.  They were staring at these girls like the little kid in the Cindy Crawford Pepsi commercial... RED FLAG #3.

I suddenly realized why the promoters begged us to come inside.  The ratio of creepy older men to females was 2:1.  The age ratio of creepy older men to the females was also 2:1.  So naturally, I did what I do best....I snuck away.  I went down the back stairs right into the next level of hell.

We walked into what looked like the inside of a lumberjack's house...the whole "secret VIP bar" was WALLPAPERED like wooden logs... but it had just enough air of "New York Wannabe" that I felt falsely comforted for 60seconds.   The men in their were less decrepit.  The air conditioner actually worked.  And the bouncer offered me a table with free bottle service. SWEET! Right?

WRONG!  He promptly took me to a table for some creepers who were willing to pay for my drinks (a.k.a. roofies juice) as long as they had some ass to grab.  This table of guys were straight up out of Ed, Edd, and Eddy...
I politely refused the free drinks and took my sweet ass as far away from their hands as possible.  This seemed like the safe decision, yes?  Wrong again.  I then exposed myself to a man I shall call "The Sniffer."  I didn't ever see him...I simply felt him.  Suddenly my "personal space" alarm system would go off and I would tense up and turn around to see someone running away from me while my colleagues peed their pants laughing.  Mother fucker would sneak up, sniff me, sigh in ecstasy, and run away.  Get me the fuck out of there! 

Again, I thought - how in the fuck do I get out of this bar?  I could have gone back upstairs and dealt with the Midwest Regional Sales Managers of the Year OR pop through the OTHER connected bar that looked like a direct line to the exit.  I chose the "direct exit" bar.

FAIL.  I walked into Coyote Ugly, but with REAL ugly chicks dressed like strippers and swinging on swings.  In the center of the bar, blocking my path to the exit was a mini boxing ring with two white dudes, wearing oversized gloves, punching the hell out of each other.  One was old and married.  One was probably 18.  Both casper the friendly ghost pale.  The old man won....and obviously immediately took off his shirt to celebrate.

I stood there, surrounded by my clients, thinking "Where in the fuck are we?  It is a Wednesday....In February...In ORLANDO!!! I am trapped in hell watching creepster married men ogle naked chicks and box each other using oversized gloves."  It was one of the first times in my life I thought, "It isn't that I am too old for this shit (obviously)- it's that I am not a big enough trainwreck for it at any age."

So ladies, when your husbands/boyfriends/lovers tell you that they are going to Orlando on business...I have some pictures to show you.  And it is not pretty!


  1. My folks live in Orlando, so I completely understand what you are saying, from the many visits I have had down there.

    I swear if I see one more kid wearing one of those THING #1 or THING#2 shirts, I will actually shit.

  2. My folks live in Orlando, so I completely understand what you are saying, from the many visits I have had down there.

    I swear if I see one more kid wearing one of those THING #1 or THING#2 shirts, I will actually shit.



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