I poop on you, Gwen.

When I started blogging, I had no idea how many cool, funny, interesting and socially misfitted people like myself were out there. I've developed friendships with many of you, actually met some of you, and probably don't remember drunkenly calling/e-mailing others of you.

One of my most favoritest peoples that I've met here is my shorter, funnier, "separated at birth" girl, Gwen. I realized pretty quickly after she started popping up in my comments that she and I were kindred spirits. We both love monkeys, we both swear too much, we both say and do inappropriate things at what is usually exactly the wrong moment, every time. I love her to death, and now I can officially say that I've seen her naked.

To explain...
A while back, me & Gwennie got a bug up our collective bums to visit one another. Originally she was to come to MN to see me, but circumstances/timing/etc... made this difficult. This past Monday I was just checking out how much it would cost for me to visit her, and when a ridiculously low price popped up, I made the decision that if the monkey can't come to Whiskey, the Whiskey will go to the monkey. A few squealing phone calls and a few days later, I was greeted in the St. Louis airport by none other than Lady G.

She had a full day planned for us, and the first stop was at the amazing farmer's market for bloodies and shopping (yes, they sell bloodies at the FARMER'S MARKET. I decided right then and there that I need to move there).

Here I am outside the market:

At the market. Note the worried look on Gwen's face. Poor girl had NO idea what she was getting into...

After picking up stuff for dinner, we stopped for sandwiches. I had some sort of meat extravaganza, the remnants of which can be seen here. It was so freaking good that Gwen wanted to lick the tissue:

After a few more stops for incidentals (best grocery stores ever- two fab Italian markets for salty meat things, cheese, wine & bread, tuna for ceviche, etc...) we went back to Gwen's adorable house and just relaxed. We cooked together, drank sangria, sat in her back yard and got to know one another, and then I corrupted her kitties by feeding them too much catnip.
I freaking LOVED her kitties. Max slept at my head both nights and Skylar totally didn't pee on my bed, which I think means he liked me. Gwen's friend H came over, we giggled a lot. All in all, day one was a success:

The next day, I woke up and snuggled with this guy. For having shared an entire batch of sangria, two bottles of wine and several Jack & cokes, I felt pretty good.

We went to brunch at a place called Three Monkeys, but much to my disappointment there were no monkeys to be seen, on the buffet or otherwise. Liars.

The one "touristy" thing I wanted to do was to go up in the arch, as I had been to St. Louis once before to visit the Bowling Hall of Fame (no, not kidding), but had no idea you could actually go in it. I am not smart.

There was a buttload of people there, so we waited in line for tickets. Oddly enough, while we were waiting to get in, a guy behind me goes "Ooh, are yoo from Minnesoooda? Yoo betcha!"
I thought he was making fun of me, but turns out he & his wife were from the St. Paul area too. What a small world.
We had an hour or so to kill before we could go into the little pod thingies that carry you to the top, so we first watched a 1960's film about the making of the arch. It was all crackly and everyone in it was smoking, generally while working hundreds of feet up without any safety gear. Scary.

Then we went into the museum and harassed the animitronic displays:

If you've never been up in the arch, you should try it sometime. They pack five people into a "pod" that is roughly the size of the trunk of a car, and then run you up to the top. If you are afraid of tight spaces, this would probably kill you.
It is kind of crowded at the top, and the windows to look out are really tiny, but the view is amazing. It's kind of scary to look down and see the little specks of people.

Here is Gwenzilla giving the arch a little lick before she took a big bite:

I love you, Mr. big, imposing stainless-steel arch. Mwah.

After the arch, we drove around in Gwen's convertible and just looked at stuff.
Gwen seems to know everything about everything in her city. Seriously- she knows more about St. Louis than I know about how babies are made. She should be a tour guide to people other than just me.

Then, after the touristy stuff, and the "getting to know you" stuff and the "let's behave" stuff...
...well, we took the gloves off, baby.

We started by doing a "progressive drinking" tour of an area called "the loop". Beers and a bloody at Blueberry Hill, a martini at someplace called the Del Mar, wine and a sausage at somewhere that I don't remember the name of, and finally much needed dinner (and more wine) at another restaurant that I can't remember.

Then we ditched the car and walked to a bar by Gwen's house, where we met our new friend Gary:

Three or four more cocktails and one bar closing later, we started the walk home. For some reason I thought it would be funny to pretend to poop in a dumpster:

...Which started a whole series of "I poop on you" photos (edited for your NC-17 pleasure).

Next up, the washing machine:

And the dishwasher:

And Gwen's big jar of change:

And her plant:

And her toaster oven:

And the scary terlet in her basement:

Classy broads, we are.

Then we decided to play "dance party with costumes" until 4:30 in the morning.
Here I am wearing a bridesmaid's dress from Gwen's wedding with a feathered hat, a spongebob squarepants necklace and a jester hat.

You will note that this is the same outfit, only on Gwen this time.
Yes, we have seen each other nekkid, and no, we're not giving you details, pervs.

Mmmm...heart. Yum.

Then she got all bossy on me and made me go to bed. God, she's such a rag sometimes.

The flight home was...interesting. First off, we forgot to set an alarm (big surprise, drunkys) and we woke up just before 10 and my plane was to leave at 10:55. I believe I was still drunk.
I basically threw everything in my suitcase (accidentally leaving 1/4 of what I brought behind), threw real clothes on and we jumped in the car. Gwen broke the land speed record and got me there with 10 minutes to spare.
I was TOTALLY zonked on Ativan, and I had two bloody marys on the flight (though I dumped 2/3 of the second one in my lap. The best part was me giggling to myself on the small plane and taking pictures. I seriously have like 20 from the flight home, 4-5 of which are of my cocktail-soaked crotch).
I played Yahtzee and tried to not get arrested by the airplane police.

Overall, it was a stinking good trip.

Thanks for everything Gwen! Next time you can come here and we'll trash MY house- deal?
XOXO