Guest Blogger...C-Baby

When I imagined my future self, four years ago, I didn’t see The Merekat in the horizon. I was just a girl; skipping class, french kissing boys, and occasionally running into, I guess we’re calling her “Honey”, at the bar. Honey and I were not friends. I always did that “Heeeeeyy!! How are yeww??” us southern girls love toss around when we really don’t want to talk to you but feel obligated because it’s polite.  I didn’t know why we weren’t friends, (actually I did) but I wasn’t very interested in being friends either.

Fast forward to Present Day Memphis: Honey and I live approximately 4 sketchy miles from each other. I live in the few blocks off Beale and Main and Honey lives in a glamorous, carerra marble clad apartment next to a rehab center. Perfect.

Our relationship started off slow, we liked each other’s Instagram pictures and Merekat started following me on twitter. We even emailed for a few days before we exchanged numbers. The Merekat is a texter. She loves to text. Her long, lanky, diamond and gem adorned fingers text at 90 mph. We texted it up for a few days and I finally decided I was ready to actually be friends with The Merekat. Our first “date” was at Bari – read that blog post if you know what’s good for you. We were tucked away in a quiet corner and talked about everything that no one else gives a shit about. She liked me and I liked her back. We talked (and still do) 96% of the day.

We quickly began making weekend plans, you can read about those fucking disasters here. After I realized I was most likely going to be making a regular appearance on this blog, I decided that I couldn’t do anything embarrassing because chances are; I have to relive it 24-48 hours after the fact. Not being embarrassing is hard for me. I’m awkward by nature and being embarrassing comes with the territory. Alcohol only propels that state. Not awkward like, sit-in-a-corner-and-not-speak awkward. More like, winking-at-people-and-things-of-that-variety awkward. Also, I love to slow-motion dance.

Simple: drink less around The Merekat, be aware of your surroundings, and don’t fall down so much.

….and then we went to Pickwick.

We drank ourselves into complete oblivion. So much for drinking less.

I had, for the most part, never been to Pickwick before. I couldn’t have been less aware. Sixteen bruises on my body. I’m going to assume I fell every time I took a step. Read that blog post too.

Hopefully this will be a weekly blog post to recap on past happenings. You know, The Merekat from C-baby’s perspective.

UPDATE: The Merekat and I are no longer friends; She hates breakfast for dinner.

C-Baby