We've Got Ourselves A 'SITUATION'

Arright kids. IT'S TIME. For my FIRSTEST guest post. Neil is a cool cat. Neil was my group leader in college for "collegiate leadership vanderbilt" where we met once a month, ate free  nosh, met cool people, and then  went on a free trip to Chicago and got real drunk. Then, I was one of the actual "leaders" and we went to Chicago again, and had an amazing time. Neil has seen me at my "best" and I have seen him at his "best" when he was dressed as a "light bright" on Halloween. Needless to say, we've had some good times. Below, is Neil's post about how he won first place at a Jersey Shore themed party. I'm so proud. I added some notes for you in a different color. Enjoy! Neil was supposed to have this post done earlier, but he had some shit called "law school" to attend to...pshhhh.

like trash. but trashier.

Let’s be honest; I’m too old to be watching MTV (Neil is kinda old I guess...law school is for old peeps). I remember when people on the Real World had to get actual jobs after their show ended (aka MJ from the RealWorld went to Vandy and one time I was drunk and fell on top of him at a bar...I digress), and Lauren Conrad trendsetted in Laguna Beach. Nevertheless, I associate with a much younger demographic, and they sometimes throw Jersey Shore themed birthday parties. As a former frat-tastic, I love a good theme party. Ergo, I spent the last week catching up with Snooki, the Situation, and the rest of team train wreck via On Demand. After watching, I don’t understand the public rancor toward Jersey Shore (he uses words like ergo and rancor now bc of law school...typical). The cast members were exactly like every other person I’ve met from the Philly-to-New York region (his name was Steve and he went to Vandy). The only thing the show failed to capture was their overt affection for Bon Jovi.

It became readily apparent after just a few shows that I would need to go beyond my normal wardrobe to fully participate in the Jersey Shore theme (Neil is a self-proclaimed "label-whore"). Despite the casts’ proximity to Martha’s Vineyard, not a single person repped (kids still say that right?) with a Vineyard Vines polo. Consequently, I started researching and pricing outfits. (We went to school in the south, hence lots of pastels, seersucker, etc. etc.)

Now, when I was first introduced to the “guido lifestyle” (send your complaints to Pauly D; his words, not mine) the world had not yet been afflicted with Affliction and Ed Hardy. Rather, fashionable guidos purchased designer t-shirts because the t-shirt was all they could afford. Back in the day, Myrtle Beach—the closest you could get to Jersey Shore without leaving the South—reeked from overly cologned kids with gelled hair. Those kids all wore black Armani Exchange tees.  Nowadays designers embrace the t-shirt. Unfortunately for me, that means Affliction and Ed Hardy shirts cost more than I would spend on a costume contest (But not more than you spent on that Burberry tie Neilster...I have the memory of Gandalf the Grey..or someone like that.)

By the Saturday of the party, I was as nervous as a waste removal consultant in a federal courthouse (I like to keep my analogies on point with the story) (I'm kinda lost...). As I mourned the Duke loss to Georgetown (a university that, like the Jersey Shore, is also void of blondes), the creative juices began to flow.  My girlfriend, Kelly, had a box full of glitter and a glue stick. After a quick call to a friend coming over for the Vandy Kentucky game I had a size medium v-neck tee. (This paragraph needs one more parenthetical). (Here's one more just for good measure, and I am not a blond FYI readers...)

While my friends drank away the Vandy game, I designed a custom t-shirt. For the front I went with the A|X standby for Armani Exchange. For the back I did the Ed Hardy logo and threw on a cross, couple skulls, pair of wings, a rose, and—for the coup de grace (ok for srs. with this law school vocab?)—a fleur-de-lis. Honestly, it was the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen with glitter. In some weird sort of synergy my inner fratinessess’s love for theme parties allowed me to channel my inner sorority girl. If my friends hadn’t had such death grips on their beer cups I would’ve paint penned them with BFF and AOT (Neil was always jealous of my sorority, he hearted us).

Neil says coup-de-grace- I say piece-de-resistance....boo-yah.

A power hour later we were in a taxi on our way to McFaddens, the only place in Nashville where I had a chance of blending into the crowd (aka trashiest trashbar EVAH). I paired my custom tee with white sneaks and gold chain. As an added bonus, I found the orange makeup I used for my Ernie (of Bert and Ernie fame) Halloween costume. It gave me the proper Gym, Tan, Laundry glow. We strolled into the bar’s private room and someone immediately greeted us with jager bombs. While apropos (ok, this is ridic...apropos?!?!) apropos and gym tan, laundry don't go in the same sentence...or paragraph), it really threw off the perfect balance of pre-game party readiness I had achieved. Unsurprisingly, the night went took a turn for the best.

After suggesting in my best outside voice that the bartender should crank up the tunes, I began chatting with the girl beside me. She was dressed in a combination of items that I’m pretty sure were meant to be normally worn underneath clothes. She told me she taught at the Catholic elementary school. I felt that was an appropriate time to walk off, mid-conversation, to find my friend Joe who only dates Catholic girls. The bartender, presumably due to my repeated finger points and yells of “do it, barkeep”, turned up the music at that point, and I began some wicked awesome fist pumping. I say wickedly awesome because I realized halfway through the night that I don’t know how to fake a Jersey accent. Consequently, I started every subsequent conversation with “I pahk my cah in hahvahd yahd. What’s yah name?” Boston, Jersey, practically the same thing. (See, he tricks you with the fancy law school lingo and doesn't even know Joisey from Basss-ton, tricky bunch those lawyers...)

After fist pumping, the birthday girl announced the costume contest. If there’s one thing I like more than theme parties, it’s winning best costume at a theme party (Vandy= automatic winners). I crossed my fingers as she announced the 5 finalists and blew a sigh of relief when she called my name. The girl in nothing but undergarments also made the final cut. Fellow revelers were to vote by making very loud noises. Upon presenting myself for judgment, Kelly and our friend CeLee (Omg, I love CeeLee!) screamed like 10 year olds at a Miley Cyrus concert (or, keeping with the theme, 45 year olds at a Bon Jovi concert). As the clear winner, I received a jar of pickles larger than my head. Undergarment girl—undoubtedly and justifiably perturbed by me walking out on our earlier conversation—complained she didn’t get the memo that this was a t-shirt making party. Unfazed by the hating, I carried the pickles under my arm for the rest of the evening and introduced myself as “The winnah of tha wicked awesome costume contest.”

That’s my guest blog, folks.

XOXO,

Guido Girl 

(that was totes a GossipGirl reference and he gets so many awesomeness points for that...)

Thank you Neil for your wicked awesome post. Wicked.Awesome. K I'm gonna go shower now after all the Joisey up in my grill...