It's Blogging Day

Indeed, it is. Also Father's Day, so happy day to any fathers out there, in case you're reading.

Last night was one long, tortuous buzzkill. Bitchy drunk side was out in full force -- just ask the front door bouncer at the Imperial Room. When I handed him my drivers' license, he ordered me to smile, which aggravated me even more because I thought he was double-checking my I.D. Turns out, I just looked pissed off so he thought he'd point it out! How thoughtful of him...

It was a night of dowtown bar-hopping: Old Chicago, Champps, Imperial Room, The Lone Tree. And it didn't come to an end at 2, for we cabbed it to Little Tijuana's. Fatties need food. The neverending buzzkills refused to cease particularly when my friend and I sat outside for 45 minutes after Little T's waiting for a cab. Eventually, it got to be too late, no cabs in sight, so I had to call for one.

It wasn't as terrible of a night as I made it out to sound, but sometimes having no plan really blows. Weekend tally:

Buzzkills: 1
Fun: 0

Oh yeah, my friend forced me to dance with some dork who approached us. He was the worst dancer ever. His only "move" was to twirl me -- I felt like such an idiot doing the stupid twirl. Pretty sure the rest of my friends were having a lot more fun as they mocked me in the corner of the dance floor.

Comedy Club Chuckles

It was strange...I woke up feeling a tad homesick this morning. This partying thing is getting old, or more like, I'm the one getting old! My parents and the dogs are up north at the cabin this weekend and if gas weren't so ridiculous, I'd consider driving up today. Alas, it'll be a boring day.

Hung out with my girl crush (GC) last night -- I have yet to come up with an alternative name. I called her after work and she said she was planning to hang out with her very pregnant cousin so they were going to keep it low-key by going to Acme Comedy Club.

I'd never been to Acme (you'd think I didn't grow up in MN) and I have to say, I enjoyed it way more than I ever thought I would. I especially liked the opening comedian, Amber Preston. She cracked a lot of jokes about being a single, 28-year-old female, saying something to the effect of, "It's June. Bridesmaid season, or drinking season, is officially upon us." She joked about all her friends being married and having kids and her mom's disappointment in her uncertainty of wanting children, unless there was an "accident" at which point Preston crossed her fingers.

I know my mom shares those feelings of concern for me. She tries not to preach, but occasionally makes comments expressing her serious doubts about whether I will ever get married or have kids. She and my dad think I am destined to become a cat lady, or dog lady in my case. Oh well, their angst doesn't bother me.

For the life of me, I can't recall the next opening comic's name. I believe his first name was Matthew, but had I known Acme wouldn't list it on their site, I would have made more of a point to remember his name. Oh well. He was pretty funny too. He also talked about the upcoming wedding season, saying, "Only like 6 people care about the ceremony -- the rest are waiting to drink."

He told a hilarious story about always being "that guy" on the dance floor. You know, the middle-aged uncle or friend of the groom who makes a total ass of himself. At the last wedding he attended, he said during an R.E.M. song (the name escapes me), he busted out his signature move. Normally, this is called "the worm" but as he said, he doesn't really have the physique (aka beer gut) so in his case, he essentially does a belly flop each time he hits the ground. This last time, he didn't land quite right so there was a thunderous SMACK as he made contact with the floor. Someone said, "It looks like you're bleeding." He reached back only to horridly discover a handfull of blood. His wife rushed him to the emergency room where he received 10 stitches, conveniently located in the center of his bald spot so his doctor said, "At least we don't have to shave."

The headliner was Will Durst, a political comedian. He was funny as well, but I don't enjoy the political stuff nearly as much as every day bullshit.

I noticed there were more women laughing than men during Preston's routine and during the following male's performances more men than women were laughing. Is it solely because the different genders relate better to their own sex?

After the show, me, GC and one of our guy friends (the one who introduced us) headed downtown. I found myself at the Imperial Room two Fridays in a row. Guess who else was there? The two DORKS of course. Neither approached me and most likely didn't remember me, but now I know their hangout in case I change my mind and want to go back and get their digits. Oh baby!

I was taken back to my college days last night. We each only had one cocktail at the show so by the time we got to the bar, it was 12:30 and we had some major catching up to do. We all downed 4 drinks in an hour and half. I kept thinking back to the pamphlets they distributed to us freshmen year of college titled, "Are you a binge drinker?" complete with all the warning signs. Yes, last night I was a self-proclaimed binge drinker. At least I was deliriously happy-drunk, not bitchy-drunk which I strongly tend to be at times.

Dork Hierarchy

Let me start by saying, it was so good to have my friend from college in town this weekend! It felt like ages since I'd seen her. Good times. :)

Now for the weekend updates...

I give Friday evening four out of five stars. Loss of one star attributed to a friend, who will from now on be known as Buzzkill Biatch. Cruel, yes, but I couldn't think of a more suitable "b" word.

Dear Buzzkill Biatch,

When you make plans with someone, it's not necessary to confirm more than once, if that. There's nothing more annoying than receiving multiple confirmation emails, texts and calls from the same person.

When asked for your opinion of where to go out, don't say, "I'll go anywhere," when you really mean Harvey's is the only acceptable venue downtown. Granted, we would've vetoed your only choice anyway, but you lost all rights to bitch about bar destinations when you failed to speak up when given the chance. No one likes a whiner: "Drinks are too expensive." "Too crowded." "Meat market." "We should've gone to Harvey's."

There's this thing called buying rounds. I know, I know. The concept is a tad difficult to comprehend. You take turns footing the bill for everyone's drinks. When your turn rolls around, it's NOT cool to declare you're cut-off, decidedly switching to water. If, in fact, that is the case, you still offer to get a round for the others in your group. If all are done for the night, you assure them you owe them drinks next time you go out. And you follow-through.

Sincerely,

Your infuriated friends

Most memorable award of the evening goes to the two dorks at the Imperial Room. Generally, I use this term loosely, but these guys were the epitome of dorkdom. Amidst the sea of dorks, this duo stood out above the rest. We all got a good chuckle at their expense -- two petite dudes (both in glasses) huddled in the corner, sitting extremely close to one another. Buzzkill Biatch: "Check out the pointdexters."

It all began when Buzzkill Biatch decided to sit on one of two nearby vacant chairs. This gesture was on open invitation for a guy to make his move and naturally, a dork in the vicinity did just that. Wearing a track jacket sporting the popped collar, he plopped down on the adjacent chair -- leaving his married wingman standing.

The remaining three of us stood a few feet away, laughing at Married Wingman's tapered jeans and short sweater with undershirt hanging out. Eventually, my friend from out of town was summoned over to the dork group by Buzzkill Biatch, leaving myself and my friend as prey. We were anti-social by not joining the group, and boy, did we pay for it.

Pointdexter #1 and Pointdexter #2 walked up to us and asked if we wanted to dance. I couldn't look either in the eye, for fear I would die of laughter. We politely declined, saying we didn't dance, which prompted this smooth response from Pointdexter #1: "If I were Brad Pitt, you would dance." The fact he called himself unattractive, then dug himself an even deeper hole by comparing himself to Brad Pitt speaks volumes.

Pointdexter twins desperately tried to make small talk, but all I could concentrate on was keeping a straight face. Our other two friends witnessed what was going on and laughed at the situation -- they weren't about to save us! A close second to the Brad Pitt comment, the best part was we later found out the respective dorks (tapered jeans and all), simultaneously felt compelled to point out Pointdexter #1 and Pointdexter #2, saying, "Look at those dorks!" Hence, the Dork Hierarchy.