Macho Madness

How does a spicy women, such as myself, handle mischief? Not well. I frequently find myself looking back on something I've done, thinking, what the actual fuck Libby. But I must say, spicy women have great stories. Or maybe they're lessons? No, no, definitely not lessons because that would indicate I don't repeat my mistakes. This is the story of Halloween 15', the day I learned I could no longer handle the responsibility that comes with dressing up as Macho Man Randy Savage. I simply couldn't snap into Slim Jim. This particular Halloween my best friend Sidney and I dressed up as WWE wrestlers, because we are nothing if not charming. Facial hair on girls is a staple of a sexy Halloween costume. Sidney was Hulk Hogan and I was Macho Man Randy Savage. At some point in the night Sidney and I ended up at different parties, so we probably looked especially stupid as we were each the only girls at each place to have facial hair. As I type this out I realize we would have looked ridiculous whether we were together or not. I would like to start this story by explaining waking up the morning after Halloween. I woke up to an epic hangover, laying on my brothers couch with left over hair on my face from the beard I glued on the night before. It looked like pubes were on my cheeks, but I assure you it was fake beard hair- a much more lady like explanation. I was hurting, it felt like I had wrestled someone the night before. Little did I know, I had. I wrestled my brother (who graciously woke up at 3AM to come get me from a party I was wreaking havoc on), in front of everyone at the party. When Dillon woke up the morning after Halloween, he gave me the look that only your sibling gives you. It was a smirk that was a mixture of "you're a bitch" and "you're hilarious". My brother has my sense of humor, we get along great. He knew the minute he saw my hungover ass that he was going to embarrass the shit out of me by telling me what I did the night before. He came out of his bedroom and poored himself a cup of coffee, as he prepared to tell me about my mishap. I was still in my Macho Man Randy Savage costume (minus the beard), which made the story he was about to tell me even more rich. For the people who are reading this thinking I'm a trash can person for blacking out, you are correct, but I in no way think it's cool or encourage drinking to the excess that I had. It's dangerous, and I'm lucky I have friends and family who took care of me. But I'm all about keeping it real with my blog, and sometimes mistakes are made. This was one of those nights, I made an ass out of myself. I had gotten very drunk by the time I reached the party, and wouldn't listen to anyone. My friends ended up calling my brother to come get me, because he may be one of the only people I would listen to. HAHAHA THEY WERE WRONG. By the time Dillon got there, I was in the back of the apartment in my red tights, and flamboyant cowboy hat, refusing to listen to anything he told me. What do you do when your sibling is being a stubborn asshole who won't move an inch? You put them in a head lock. I don't blame him at all, I believe I went to swing on him when he finally decided he just needed to get me out of there. When he got me to the living room we were in a full out wresting match, I was grabbing his legs, while he put me in a full nelson- this is not an exaggeration. People were watching in disbelief. Dillon told me the next morning there was a group of people who didn't know that we were siblings so they were very confused, and he just looked at them and said "she's my sister". and they were all like "aaaaaah ok makes sense". I had also puked all over that night, so the people at the party were ready for me to go home (they were actually very patient with me). Dillon and me were both laughing when he told me the story. The visualization of Dillon and I creating a scene at this party still has me gut rolling with laughter. It took Dillon, and my friend Cody lifting me up and carrying me down a flight of stairs to get me to the car. They dropped me on my head once, because I was thrashing around so much. Dillon was so fed up with my backtalk and defiance that he literally threw me in the back seat. When I drink too much, I can be all sass. But not clever or mean sass. I'm the kind of sass that makes no sense, but I'm sure I was hell bent on conveying my anger. Dillon is a good brother. He was probably annoyed and embarrassed to be wrestling me in front of a party, but he did it anyway because his little sister was being a shitty drunk who needed to go to bed. Dillon reminds me of this story when I need to be humbled. I refer to that night as the Halloween of 15'.I don't think the words "OH YEAH!" have escaped my mouth since that day. As I end this blog, I encourage you to think twice before dressing up as a WWE wrestler if you know you are going to consume copious amounts of beer.

"Snap into Slim Jim!"
-Macho Man Randy Savage