About Me

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Lancaster, PA, United States
I am a 26 year old female, with only hopes of becoming a rock star/movie star. Which basically means if I can't find anything else that I'm passionate about, then I'm going to be living with Mom and Pops the rest of my life(if they would even have me.) Grow up Peter Pan! is a blog about, well, growing up! And the day to day events that are thrusting me towards adulthood.

Monday, August 22, 2011

I think I'm going to make myself throw up. I'm going to make myself throw up.

We stumble out of the cab, and make our way to the entrance of the Luxor.  As soon as the doors open I know where this night is going to take me...the bathroom floor...potentially naked.  We get in line for the club.  Eli and I argue back and forth about whether or not we should get in the shorter line where are names are most definitely not on the list.  I win.  To the back of the long line we go.  There are about 50 people in front of us, but it's moving quickly.  We make it to the front of the line, get our hands stamped and pay an absurd amount of money just for admittance into this place.  Holland and I are ahead of the boys and make our way through the maze of deep red lights only knowing where to go by following the sound of the bass coming from the DJ booth.  The light at the end of the tunnel fast approaches.  I'm at the top of a huge staircase.  All my body let's me do is drop my jaw. After a few seconds I look over at Holland and we both smile at each other...very mischievously. 

Lights are flashing, the music is blaring, there are people everywhere.  We about to pop bottles.

I walk down the stairs expecting Prince Charming to meet me at the bottom.  He's not there, but the bar is, and let's be honest, I'd rather have the beer.

MILLER LITE IS 8 FUCKING DOLLARS!  If my goal wasn't to get blacked out tonight, this would be my only drink.

I take my liquid gold to the dance floor where the rest of my friends have already made a home. We are busting moves, drinking heavily and enjoying every minute of our time here.

I go up to the bar for my next drink. I order in a British accent.  I can tell the bartender finds me much more attractive now.  Holland comes up behind me holding her heels with a pitiful look on her face.  It's obvious that she did not wear her dancing shoes.  I order her another drink and the bouncer tells her to put her shoes back on.  I'm hoping that the alcohol subdues her pain because the night is young and I am far from calling it quits.

We make our way back to our spot, but the boys are no where to be found. NBD. We don't need them to have a good time.  I continue to make a fool of myself and have lost count of the amount of drinks I've  consumed.

I make yet another trip to the bar.  This time I stumble.  I stumble into a 6"7, skinny, black, hipster and grab onto his arm. I try to make it look like it wasn't an accident by saying "Excuse me, Mr. Bicep", in my sexiest voice possible.  He appreciates the effort and makes room for me to hold myself up on the counter.  After I get my drink I wave him and his other skinny, tall, hipster, black friend to join me and my tiny, blonde, sexy, white friend on the dance floor.  They listen obediently.  We start yelling questions back and forth over the music. "Are you guys on spring break? Where are you staying? Have you been here before? Where are you from?"  We stop at "where are you from?" because we all say, "Pennsylvania." We come to realize that both of them go to school at Millersville University, which is right next to where Holland and I went to high school, and where I just transferred to.  What are the odds that we run into people that live in Millersville in Vegas, and not where we live.  Ridiculous. (side note: my first day back in school after break I see one of the guys in class. He shakes his head and smiles at me. We never speak of what happened in Vegas).

When the fist pumping starts things start to get blurry.  I remember looking at the ground a lot, and Holland pulling down my dress more than a lot.  Holland thinks we should locate Eli, Zac, and Mr. Magnificent.  At this point I'm not even sure if they are still in the club, nor do I care.  Holland points up to one of the second floor balconies. Low and behold there is Zac.  Alone.  Staring at us.  We laugh and figure Eli and Mr. Magnificent are around there with him somewhere. I black out.

When I black back in we are being asked to go up to the VIP lounge.  When I sit down I immediatley get the spins.  I tell Holland, and she takes me through a dark hallway to a bathroom.  I pee, luckily in the toilet, and when I stand up to wash my hands I feel like I'm looking in a fun house mirror.  I can barley stand up and when I walk back into no-man's land I'm completley lost.  I'm about to give up and make myself comfortable on the floor when Holland scoops me up and starts walking me toward the exit.

I don't know when or why I decided to look at my phone, but there's a message from Zac that reads, "help x".  I show Holland and she tries to grab my phone away from me.  I'm angry that she thinks I can't handle the situation so I snap my arm back and start texting Eli.  Clearly I can't handle it because Eli doesn't have his phone. 

From this point on I can only remember bits and pieces...exiting club, Holland yelling at Eli, Zac unable to stand, laughing uncontrollably, laying down in the cab, Zac telling Holland that Darryl(Holland's boyfriend) likes it when he touches her, getting to the door to our room, being locked out, Zac leaning up against me whispering what I think were words, laying in bed with Holland, telling Holland that I needed to throw up and that I was going to make myself throw up, vomiting, laying on the bathroom floor with no pants on, vomiting, and crawling into bed.

PS: The "x" Zac texted me was because the bouncers kicked him out and put a black x over his stamp in permanent marker.

PSS: The reason Zac got kicked out was because he was standing in someones VIP lounge uninvited(note Holland and I seeing him on the balcony).

PSSS: Zac slept in the clothes he was wearing that night.

PSSSS: My text to Eli read "Zac x".

PSSSSSSS: Eli and Mr. Magnificent walked about 3 miles back to our hotel room at dawn.

Vegas-1 Lancaster-0

Thursday, August 4, 2011

crazy, stupid, stupid, love

 Damn these summer blockbusters making me over-think...

I can't speak for men, but I think I can speak for most women when I say that we grow up longing for someone to love us unconditionally.  At a young age we are introduced to Barbie and Ken, princes and princess in our bedtime stories and television cartoon romances. Simple, right?  How nice that it worked out so conveniently for Beauty and the Beast, Cinderella and Prince Charming, Ariel and Eric...

My childhood toys, books, and movies led me to believe there is someone out there for everyone, someone perfect...a soulmate.

Okay, So is there or isn't there? 

I'd like to believe it. I also like to think I've found him already.  Are you allowed to have doubts about your soulmate?

The concept of love is so ambiguous I'm finding it hard to keep one idea in my mind long enough to write about it (honestly, it probably wouldn't even make sense if I tried putting it into words).  The conclusion that I've found myself at after several days pondering a seemingly never ending, series of questions is that they are unanswerable. It is completely up to interpretation, and there is nothing wrong with that.  Just like there's nothing wrong with growing up having love thrown in your face the way it is.  As much as I'd like to, I can't hate on happiness.

So here it is, my final thought, because if I keep going this is going to start looking like a cryptogram, if it doesn't already...We all deserve to give and receive unconditional love.  It may not be with Prince Charming, but who would want him when you already have it with the kid who flicked his boogers on you in fifth grade?