Round Two

Late Saturday afternoon I went to a friend's place and we drove down to Birthday Girl's house, birthday numero dose of the weekend. Birthday Girl is the mother of the most beautiful boy, baby Logan. Plans are currently in the works for him to become sponsored by a baby model agency! After playtime with Logan and delicious Cook's champagne, the three of us went to dinner at Major's while Logan enjoyed quality time with his dad.

It was a nice evening so we ate on the patio. Both friends ordered the Cajun chicken fettuccine. Birthday Girl asked the server if it was spicy, to which he replied, "No, the only spice is on the chicken. Do you want plain chicken?" Agreeing to sans seasoning, my other friend ordered her Cajun fettuccine as-is, not wanting to seem demanding because she'd complained about her nasty soda, at which point we were informed was "knock-off" Dr. Pepper. Huh? At a restaurant? Gross.

My friend ended up regretting her decision to go with Cajun-style because our server's description couldn't have been more off-base! Her dish looked like cajun soup!! The alfredo sauce wasn't even white -- it was a peach color. The chili powder was so strong that Birthday Girl and I could smell it and taste it in our throats. The one redeeming factor was you get a free dessert for your birthday. We ordered the chocolate cake and it was HUGE. I couldn't believe the size of the thing so at least my friend was able to fill up on some cake since she couldn't eat her meal.

Then when the server asked my friend if she wanted a box, she thought Birthday Girl's husband may want the leftovers, but by the time we left, she felt so ill from the stench of the fettuccine, she didn't want it in her car so we decided to "forget" and left the box on the table. Correction: it was on a pillar to the side of our table because the aroma became so nauseating. A few feet from the exit door, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Our server to the rescue!! He physically ran after us to deliver the box, savory contents and all. Garbage nowhere in sight, the box was abandoned in the parking lot.

Round two of Birthday Boy's celebration occurred later that evening. My hungry friend and I met up later downtown and did some bar-hopping, eventually winding up back at Harvey's. It was the weekend of birthdays, but 'tis the season of bachelor/bachelorette parties. Birthday Boy was with a bachelor party and another friend of mine was with a bachelorette party -- the two convening at Harvey's.

Not only was I exhausted and got a late start on drinking, but I was constantly reminded of my sober state throughout the night. I would've had to down plenty-o-shots in order to catch up to my friends. I also drove, could've left my car overnight, but I just never fully committed to getting drunk so I only had a few drinks, none of which were anywhere near as strong as the previous night.

Overall, the night was fun, but it would've been better if I hadn't been so tired. And sober. We did meet another bachelor party at Harvey's and there was one really cute guy with an eyebrow ring and tattoos. I can't recall the last time I met a hot guy. Unfortunately, he lives in Cross Lake, up by Brainerd. You gotta watch out for those good-looking types though -- the ones who know they're good-looking. They spell t-r-o-u-b-l-e.

So the common theme for bachelor parties is to wear white shirts to get girls to write all over them. In his group, all wore white shirts with nicknames printed on the back and his was "Pugs" but he refused to tell me the reason. I have one theory of my own. Anyone else? It's not because he has a Pug, but he does have two dogs -- a Pit Bull and American Stratfordshire Terrier. Anyway, they went to Bootlegger's and we followed for a bit, but I really don't care for that hot, crowded bar so my friend and I left right away.

We closed the night at The Drink where there was a lot of dancing and nasty, sweaty dudes with B.O. One short dude in a green print t-shirt came up behind me and kept trying to dance with me and reaching for my hand, so I kept moving further and further away. You'd think it wouldn't take long to get the hint, but he continued to stand against the railing for the next four-to-five songs staring at me and trying to pull me toward him. Once he gave up and left the dance floor, he and his buddy stood at a table nearby so I kept seeing him out of the corner of my eye. When the bar shut down, we were forced to walk past him and he repeatedly gave me the thumbs-down gesture. WTF? There's another first in my book!