A (Mc)sizzlin' Saturday

One of my favorite parts about having all my friends get married is the pre-wedding bachelorette bash. I mean, who doesn't love a nice confection in the shape of male genitalia, right?

Well, this past weekend was a first for me in celebrating a friend's pending nuptials. My girlfriends and I actually threw an all-girls bachelor party for our friend Brian (the groom-to-be of the bride we celebrated for last weekend).

Brian has always been like one of the girls (he's the kind of guy who makes you take your shoes off when you walk into his impeccable house), and we've all been friends with him since 'N Sync was cool.

(OK, maybe 'N Sync was never really "cool"... but work with me here...)

Anyhow, we decided to throw a bachelor party for Bri to help him celebrate his last weeks of singledom with his best girl friends (even though we all know deep down that he'll be waaaaaaay better off once he gets hitched).

We hit up Sushi Rock for dinner, gave him some questionable gifts (can you say gay section at Ambiance?) and then surprised him with tickets to see Artie Lange at the Improv (he's a huge Howard Stern fan).

After that, we took the party to (where else?) the roof of the Velvet Dog. Like last weekend, it turned out to be a crazy nite. Lots and LOTS of random conversations. And shots.

When the bar closed, we decided to head to Panini's for a piece (or three) of 'za. And guess who we saw there when we arrived, ladies and gentlemen?

McSizzle.

Yep, he was there with one of the friends whom we had met with him the weekend earlier. The friend immediately recognized us and came over to chat (while McSizzle was otherwise occupied by a blonde in a heinous red satin shorts jumpsuit... I mean, really... where do you even BUY something like that?!?!?).

Once McSizzle said goodbye to the slutty Mrs. Claus wannabe, he came over and chatted with us too. The boys agreed that we should exchange numbers so we could help show them around town. And during the course of that conversation, we also discovered... wait for it... that McSizzle has a long-distance girlfriend.

Aaaaaaaaaaaand there you have the story of my love life.

But at least now I'll never wonder about the "what if" with him, right?

Now if only I could retract that Facebook message... ;)

Who's your daddy?

This Father's Day weekend, I wanted to take some time to recognize the only man in my life right now... blogdad, of course!

It's worth noting that the crazy dance-off blogdad participated in at my friend Michele's wedding a few weeks ago is partly to blame for the fact that he is now hobbling around in a giant plastic cast for the next 6 weeks.

Yep, that's right.

Blogdad has a severe tendon injury (partly) from ass-slapping my friends on the dance floor at a wedding.

Aaaaaaand you wonder where I get it from.

Anyhow, here's hoping this weekend brings me a (sugar)daddy of my own!

(Speaking of potential sugardaddies... no, I have not heard from McSizzle. Don't worry -- you will be the first to know if he emails me back!)

I just had to check my underwear...

... to make sure I didn't grow a set of balls.

(All clear.)

So, I guess that means I've simply grown a set of metaphorical cajones instead.

Why?

Well, after discovering McSizzle's identity (thanks again for the assist, Piper!), I bucked up, (slightly) freaked out and just effing went for it.

I sent McSizzle a message through Stalkbook. (I mean, Facebook.)

I'm really not expecting a response. A few reasons for this:

• I am just some crazy chic who quasi-stalked him after hanging out at a bar for less time than a episode of Real Housewives of NJ lasts.


• I'm not entiiiiiiiiiiirely sure I emailed the right guy. I mean, I'm 97% sure based on his (pretty unusual) name and college, but his FB profile was private so I couldn't check for sure.


• If I did email the right guy, maybe he doesn't have computer access yet, in which case he won't know that I emailed him. I mean, he did just move here last week. And he's probably got more important things to do. Like... oh, I don't know... start his residency.


• And even if I did email the right guy and he does have computer access, I have no idea how often he goes on/checks his FB account. He didn't have a profile pic, which leads me to believe it may not be all that often.


• And even if I did email the right guy and he did get the message... he might just not be interested. (Dummy.)

That said, I do have some hope for why he just miiiiiiiiight respond:

• I'm not gonna lie... my FB profile pic right now (which he will obvs see) is pretty darn cute. I even look like I have cleavage! (Thanks, Vic!)


• He told me that he couldn't wait to make new friends in Cleveland because he doesn't really like to hang out with people from work. (Which is all he knows right now.) Ahem. I'm friendly! (But not in that way, blogdad... don't worry.)


• Maybe he'd think it's flattering that some random chic tracked him down and emailed him. And, the message wasn't all creepy-stalkerish either. No "I could really see you fathering my children" type of messages here. Nope. Just played it cool and simply suggested that my friends and I would be happy to serve as the welcome wagon for him and his friends if they're trying to find fun/cool places to go in C-town (thinking it would be less creepy if I made it sound more like a group/casual thing).

Regardless, I honestly can't believe that I did it. Am I crazy? Or just really ballsy? Or both?

Jorge may have been replaced already...

... by Piper.

(While I don't know Piper in real life, you may remember that she shared a dating story with us about a month or so back.)

Anyhow, Piper would make blogmom so proud with her Cyber MacGyver stalking skills. A true virtual wingman, my friends.

Let's just say that she may have helped me find McSizzle.

(And, by "may have," I mean "99% did.")

Now I just need to figure out what to do with this information...

Stay tuned, guys!

Meet my new wingman

His name is Jorge. Jorge's original job was as the cake topper at the bachelorette party. But once the cake was served, the bride-to-be removed him from the cake, licked off the icing, handed him to me and told me that I'd be taking at least one guy home that nite.

And I'll tell you what... even though he was the only man who came home with me, this little guy proved very useful in starting conversations with many boys during Saturday nite's bachelorette festivities.

And what festivities they were.

The real party started around midnite when we left the Mercury Lounge and headed to the rooftop deck at The Velvet Dog. It was packed up there, the weather was awesome and everyone was feeling just tipsy enough to really get the party rolling.

The bride-to-be and many of her college friends were on a mission to find me a man.

And that's when we all saw him.

(Being 6'6", he was sorta hard to miss.)

So, with a few gin & tonics in my system and Jorge to back me up, I literally just walked right over and backed that thang up into the hottie. He was amenable (phew!), and we started chatting right away. Early on in our conversation, I learned that he had just moved to Cleveland last week from Chicago because he's starting his 3-year residency here.

And so was born McSizzle. (Even hotter than McSteamy or McDreamy.)

McSizzle and I chatted for quite a bit (at least, in tipsy/bar terms it was a while). But then I actually felt sorta bad ditching the party (even though everyone was watching the whole conversation from afar anyhow), so when I had to use the little girls' room I decided that I'd head straight back to the bachelorette group after I did. But as I did so, McSizzle grabbed my arm and pulled me over to talk to him again. Hmm... a definite sign of interest, no?

He was funny, cute, smart and outgoing. Tall, athletic build. Nice hands and teeth. Cool name. Told me I was the first Cleveland friend that he had made (he was there with other residents who were from out of town too), and suggested that he'd like to hang out again.

But as McSizzle and I talked, an honest-to-goodness So You Think You Can Dance-esque dance-off started, and our attention quickly turned to the craziness that ensued. I can honestly say I have never seen something like that in my life.

(And that's saying something, considering I have seen blogdad dirty dance with every single one of my friends.)

Let me try to paint the scene for you. Do you know the scene in the movie The Ten Commandements when Moses parts the Red Sea? Yeah, it was kinda like that, except in this scene, the "sea" was actually spilled beers and Jack & Cokes, and the "parting" was actually the formation of a giant dance circle, where various men entered trying to one-up the previous guy's moves in an effort to win the affections of our dear bachelorette.

There was the "jumping up and down" guy. (Actually, there were several.)

And the "pull my shirt over my head" guy.

Then "the worm" guy.

And "the breakdancer" guy.

Even McSizzle got in on the action at one point. (And, man. That boy could move.)

(Somewhere in there was also a 10-second boob flash from one of our party attendants. But I'm trying to erase that from my memory.)

So here's the problem... somewhere in the craziness of the 10-minute SYTYCD ridiculousness, I lost sight of McSizzle. Before I had a chance to pull the business card trick on him.

Eff.

So now I'm left to wonder... should I "accidentally on purpose" hurt myself and head to the ER in the hopes of seeing him again... or just trust that Jorge has other plans in mind for me and see what's waiting in the second half of JDMFJCS June?