Miss me?
Yeah, I bet. I think I’m finally recovered from the surprise Spokane getaway. Sometimes I think a blog isn’t enough to cover the events that take place in my life… This weekend was one for the books.

We had a big weekend of events in the Spokane area so I thought it would be wise to get a hotel and stay the weekend. We ran the color me Rad 5k… Which I ran/walked in 33 mins after an intense 2 1/2 block training trot 3 days prior to the race. I’m in the worst shape of my life. I’m not sure why I sign up for this shit. Anyway we survived that popped a bottle of champange around 9 am after the run and headed for the hotel. Prior to leaving for this extravaganza we thought we’d pick up some snacks for the room.. And by snacks I mean donut holes, 6 bottles of wine, a few bottles of champange, anddd whatever else was in the liquor cabinet of the BC.

First the gentleman at the door opens it, says welcome and gives me the “I know you from somewhere look” immediately know exactly which tinder gone wrong episode he was from and hope to god the line moves very quickly. Nooooooppeee. We can’t check in because it’s too early and our room isn’t clean. At this point we’re covered head to toe in colored corn starch, some slime volunteers were shooting out of trash cans, and a little champange that might have sprayed farther than expected  at our post race celebration.So whether our room looked like the hotel on hangover or was full of blood stains it really made no difference to me all I wanted was a shower. No dice, Sooo we set out to find breakfast. Perkins was way over fire capacity so we decided to go on foot to find food. Oddly enough the only thing open was a tequila bar, there we were. We had a few street tacos the size of a quarter and the phone rang. Back to the hotel for showers.
Mr. Bad Hair greets us with a smile. We get our keys and on our way down in the elevator my phone buzzes… “Hey that was me, do you remember me… With a photo” how could I forget one man bun snap chat and I couldn’t delete his number fast enough. I ignore him and we go about finding our room. When Red Lion says pool side they mean Poolside. Fully equipped with a badass cabana dude and a full bar. Minus Penelton but Corey pulled some strings and brought a bottle down. The place is amazing and we paid a super 8 price.

My friend calls and says he’s bringing his terrorist and they’re coming to say hi. He shows up with… His foreign exchange student. These two people will make your stomach hurt from laughing. Then 10 more of Mr. K’s friends show up. One with a full coffee mug of Salior Jerry’s and the other with a protein shake and some muscle formula health bar, just to name a couple. We all proceed to drink what some would call too much and go down the waterslide. We’ve been watching kids go down it all day and it looked leisurely… Ha. Stash and I both hit our heads so hard we forgot up from down for about an hour.
We now realize it’s almost 8 and dinner joints are going to be closing soon. We’ve got to find the nearest Carb serving place to soak up the last 12 hours. Anddd we do, but not before walking through a “Pride Parade” but I wont go there… at least not right now. I’m falling asleep after pizza and pasta when K and “Boom” come strolling in. Boom shows us pictures of his pet cheetah back home while K makes the waitress want to bleach her ears. She tells him she’s uncomfortable and without missing a beat he says, “that’s ok go change your shoes and come back when you’re more comfortable”.. That’s our que. We’re out. 
I’ve had Mr. C for 50 days straight and never go out to the bars anymore. So we all agree on going out. Keep in mind we woke up at 430 am ran however many miles, drank all day, and ate more carbs than Honey BoOs Mom. I’m exhausted and on a bad day I’m in bed by 8. We head to the hotel room for sweatshirts and back on town. K knows everyone so we’re like VIPs at the the bars and I look like something the ninja turtles wouldn’t allow in their tunnel. My luck. We dance laugh a lot and now it’s 11:30. I’m falling asleep while trying to do my best at drinking an Irish trash can. The girls are… Partying, dancing, drinking, the whole 9 yards. I’m tapped. The girls came with me to tuck me in. We get back to the hotel  and forget Sailor Jerrys is passed out on KS’s bed. He’s been asleep since 2 pm. I pass out and the girls head back out for typical 1am bar behavior. Fights, strangers kissing, and more cocktails. 

6 a.m Sunday is apparently the best time for a good game of who can scream Marco Polo in the pool…. We order Champange for breakfast and anxiously  await regular check out time while frying our pale north Idaho bodies before Nitro Circus… 

Which we will get to another time I’ve got to go sleep. 
XOhxOhcj 

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