Changes

So I'm back...

Happy Memorial Day!

Where shall I begin?

I start my new job June 2nd and I cannot wait!! My last day at my current job is this Friday and the day I walk out those doors will be the best day of my life to date. No joke. You have no idea how many times I've dreamt of that very moment. And I have to admit, I never thought the day would come. I basically feel like I've been dead inside for the last three years during my time there. Now I feel free!

Naturally, Deborah is freaked out by my leaving; it's her worst nightmare. She's cleaned out the bags of Grandma's cookies from four floors of vending machines, which leaves two floors to go in our building. Will she successfully go through all six floors before my last day? I sincerely hope so. She keeps asking why the vending machine guy hasn't refilled the cookies yet. It's not his fault the supply exceeds her demand. I said, "Deborah, you're like the cookie monster." Her response, "I know. They used to call me that when I was younger." For some reason, Stripes and I upset her the other day so she ignored us all Friday. I honestly have no idea what set her off but it will be interesting to see if she continues to hold a grudge my last week.

As for my new job, I will actually be doing things related to my major so I am very much looking forward to that. TheGuy's sister hooked me up with the job so if it turns out I really enjoy it, I will forever be indebted to her. I'm feeling fairly positive about the potential of this job so I hope things work out. Another great part is that I'll be working downtown so it's only a few miles away which means I will be taking the city bus, drastically reducing my gasoline costs.

It seems as though there was a brief interlude where I wasn't living up to my partying ways, but have no fear, I seem to have made up for lost time in the past month. Last weekend I was out for a bachelorette party and towards the end of the night, C-Sharp and PFunk showed up so I sat at the bar and drank with them. When the bar closed, we planned to take a cab to another bar that stays open later but we couldn't get a cab. We kept walking and walking and then C-Sharp said we could probably get a cab from The Loop, which is in the opposite direction of my place. So I ran away from them in the street, being the stubborn drunk I am, and decided to walk home. Right before the bridge I cross to get home, one guy decided to relieve himself in the bushes right beside the park bench so I yelled out, "Hey, you're gonna get a ticket for public urination!" He said, "Oh yeah? I'll pee in your mouth!" I learned nothing shuts me up faster than "pee in your mouth" so I went on my way. As I was nearly halfway across the bridge, the pee guy called out, "Hey girl! Wait up!" I just kept walking without turning back. He continued, "I know you hear me! Hold up, we may as well talk since we're going the same way!" I quickened my pace and exited the bridge to a side street. Maybe next time someone tries to tell me not to walk home from the bar by myself, I'll actually listen. Maybe.

Friday night was sorta interesting. One of TheGuy's friends from college was in town for the weekend so a bunch of people got together at a bar in NE. You may recall I bumped into MJ there a year ago. Before we headed there, we stopped at another bar in NE and met up with some of TheGuy's friends. We were supposed to meet at 9:30 but one of the guys recently moved here from Kansas City so being that he wasn't familiar with the area, he agreed to pick up another friend from a suburb 30 miles outside the city. There were only about twenty people in the bar but it turned out that I ran into one of Buzzkill Biatch's friends. She was there with her husband and another couple so we sat and talked with them for a while.

Eventually TheGuy's friends showed up and we had a drink, then headed to the other bar. As we were walking in, I told TheGuy that one of the bartenders liked me so hopefully he would be working so he'd hook me up with drinks. TheGuy's response, "Just act like you're gonna sleep with him."

When we first went up to order drinks, there was just one dude behind the bar but it started getting busy, so the bartender told one of the wait staff to "get Ryan." I couldn't remember if that was his name, but apparently it is, as he showed up and took my order. I started a tab with him so I went to get all my drinks from him throughout the night.

So TheGuy had stepped outside to wait for me, as it was uncomfortably hot inside and it took a while to get a drink, but he waited for me to walk to the table on the patio where everyone was sitting. Prior to this, I had wondered if LP was going to be there because she is good friends with the girl who was there from out of town. Sure enough, as we walked up, LP was there with her bf at a table of about 15 people. They were at the opposite end of the table, however, so there was never any interaction between TheGuy and LP. I don't know how I felt about it. It was weird and it made me want to bring up the fact I knew he tried to date her behind my back. But I resisted.

Instead, I got really drunk (super strong drinks will do that) and had fun talking with MJ every time I went back inside to get drinks. After I bought the second round of drinks, he said, "By the way, you look fabulous tonight." It was sweet and flattering. No one has ever told me I looked fabulous before. And oftentimes I don't like when people are so forward, or especially if they say it as a "line" but he's not like that. I mean, he's smooth but I don't think he would say things like that unless he genuinely meant it.

Later on, he had told me he was going to get off work soon so he would come out and say hi. The next time I went back for drinks, his shift had ended, as he was sitting at the bar. He said he'd gone and out found me on the patio but that he hadn't wanted to interrupt since I was with such a large group of people. Probably that, and the fact I was surrounded by two dudes on each side of me. Conversation is kind of fuzzy but we made plans to go biking/rollerblading for Sunday since he always sees me running and lives just across the river. We exchanged numbers and then he sent me several texts over the last hour of bar time. First he wanted me to come out and say bye to him because he was leaving and then his second one said, "So glad to see you again, can't wait to hang out :)" I thought that was sweet. And his last one said, "And I'm not that young!" But he really is. I think he's like three years younger. He told me but I can't remember due to all the rum. Yup, he's a baby.

For the last round of drinks, I went in and ordered mine first while I talked to MJ. Though I was supposed to be getting drinks for TheGuy and his friend too. Apparently I was gone for quite a while, as I later realized I got a text from TheGuy asking if I had died. Oops. So after I ordered my last drink, MJ told the bartender to put it on his tab. And then I later ordered the other two, but I am pretty sure I had already closed out my tab by that point so I don't know what happened to those two drinks. I really hope they didn't end up on MJ's tab! I couldn't carry all three drinks out to the table so MJ helped me carry one of the specialty glasses and gave it to TheGuy. All night I kept thinking how I was a bitch, but I can't deny liking all the attention I was getting from MJ.

In my drunken, only half-serious state, I hadn't realized Sunday was a bad day for me, as I had to watch Brody at my parents' house. When MJ called Sunday, I didn't answer but later called back and explained I had forgotten about watching my dog at my parents' and that I would call him later. I decided not to hang out with him though and instead went to TheGuy's house and we went on a walk, got ice cream at Grand Ole Creamery (how have I never heard of this place before? YUM!) and then met up with his friends at the bar for a while. I feel like it was sort of our "coming out" weekend to his friends. I know a lot of the same people as him on acquaintance terms, but we don't usually go out to the bars together so most people don't/didn't know we were dating.

There was one really awkward moment on Saturday night when we went to a bbq/housewarming party for one of his friends. His friend flat-out asked him if we were dating while we were standing in the kitchen, as he'd heard through his wife's friend, also a friend of mine, who had been informed we were dating through one of my friends when I received my second wedding invitation solely addressed to me, no "+ guest" this summer. It was incredibly awkward. Seeing our discomfort, he immediately apologized, saying he "just had to ask."

One other thing, LP and her bf were there again Saturday night when we met up with a lot of the same people from Friday night at a bar.

TheGuy hasn't said anything about Korea recently and I haven't asked. I had a lot of fun spending time with him this weekend, but there are always doubts swirling around in my head. I don't know, maybe I will always be like that with every guy? Sometimes I wish I could just be "normal" and happy with the way things are, but I always seem to feel restless and uncertain.

Oh, I bought a new sofa with chaise and a chair this weekend! My new furniture is tope though so I'm terrified of spilling on it, but I'm excited to be able to lay down on my couch!! Right now, I have two loveseats that are terribly uncomfortable to lie down on. I can't wait to spend hungover days on my chaise!

March of the Pink Zebras

Last Saturday Rockstar came over and we went to The Old Spaghetti Factory to carbo load in prep for the 5K. There's a strong possibility we may have OD'ed on the carbs but it was so delicious, we couldn't stop! We both had salad, spinach and cheese ravioli, two loaves of bread, and spumoni ice cream. Every last bite. Gone. She hadn't eaten all day. Me? I'm just a pig.

I think our server was impressed by our hearty appetite. I tried to make his day by writing "you're cute" on my credit card receipt. Cute in the nervous, little boy way that is. He was just a baby, maybe 19??

We planned on catching a 7:20 showing of Smart People, but when 7:00 rolled around and our ice cream had just arrived, we were in need of a change in plans. Rockstar doesn't get out too much in Minneapolis so it was kind of fun to show her some of the places where I frequently black out hang out.

We first stopped by The Loop and bellied up to the bar for a drink. Then we headed to 508 where I experienced déjà vu. Or downtown is just that small, as three of the guys I met on T.'s birthday were there as well. After we got our first drink and sat down, I recognized none other than, Wheelchair Guy. He was with a group of guy friends (some I recognized) and an attractive blonde chick -- it quickly became clear she was the infamous psychotic girlfriend. Unfortunately for us, she didn't unleash that side of her but maybe it was because we made it a point to sort of steer clear of her man. She was pretty cute for him. It must have been his suave dance moves that got her.

It was fun to run into him and his buddies again. Rockstar immediately went up to him and told him she'd heard about his wheelchair move, but he claimed to be too sober to do it. I later learned "too sober" meant "not allowed to have fun" when he came up to me and apologized for not hanging out and having fun with us due to his girlfriend's presence. How hilarious is that? Even though he couldn't hang with us, we danced with his friends while mocking complete strangers. Can you ask for a better time? I think not.

One of the more interesting parts of the evening was when I was dancing with Wheelchair Guy's buddy and some girl shoved me out of the way and proceeded to take my place in dancing with him. I was taken aback but it wasn't like I was interested in the guy or anything so I merely walked away and told Rockstar about it. Later the guy came back and told me that girl was his sister so I guess she thought it was funny, which more or less, just kinda creeped me out that she was there watching him grind on chicks. If I saw my brothers doing that, I'd be scarred for life.

I also saw Stephen, but keep in mind, I did NOT look hot. Far from it. I hadn't planning on going out. And since I have poison ivy on my neck that looks like a giant hickey, I had a jumbo band-aid covering it up, my hair was in a ponytail so it wouldn't brush up against the rash, and I was wearing tennis shoes...to a downtown bar on Saturday night. I looked so very-not-cute. So even though we walked right by Stephen and his buddy, I wasn't exactly feeling up to saying hello when I looked like a total scrub. And if he saw me, he didn't say anything, probably because he was too frightened by my appearance!

And then there's Jason. He texted me Friday night but I was hanging out with TheGuy and then I guess we both ended up being at 508 at the same time on Saturday but he ended up leaving pretty quickly to go to some birthday celebration at another bar. It was for the better, since I looked awful. There is a slight chance he saw me, took one look at a big band-aid, bad outfit, and hair that looked like shit and ran far, far away. And I would never know because I have no idea what the guy looks like! If I never hear from him again, I'll know why.

In my last post I referenced looking like a lesbian. A dude came up to Rockstar and flat-out asked if she was straight and then wanted to know if her and I were together (we happened to be wearing very similar outfits -- go figure).

Anyway, I learned that even when you look like shit at a bar, you can still have fun.

Even when you have to get up the next day and run a 5K!! The race went well but the temperature was on the chilly side. We all wore pink zebra bandanas which was totally fun so we better have made the pictures this year! At least we weren't wearing pig noses like some runners. We're not that dorky.

Weekend Overview

It was a good, busy weekend. Friday night TheGuy came over and we made dinner, watched a couple movies and enjoyed strawberry daquiris courtesy of my new blender. It was neither the cheapest nor the most expensive -- just a middle of the road blender. I had been using an old hand-me-down blender that only blended 3/4 of its pitcher contents and that was only after multiple trial and error attempts using a wooden spoon to relocate the uncrushed ice cubes down near the blades. After reading reviews and not really finding exactly what I wanted, I settled, as I often do in love and life, for this Oster blender. It only has one speed -- on, but it seems to get the job done and according to reviews, it was the best bargain for my price range, as expressed by consumers and their 4 star rating.



Then Saturday we got up and went to the Minnesota Zoo because I was dying to see the Farm Babies exhibit. We fed baby goats and pet baby sheep, ducks, and bunnies. The baby pigs were pretty darn cute too. We headed to the gym afterwards where I did my first full squat on my second set and increased my 5 reps to 8 for the bench press. My quads were sore for a full four days after my first time doing squats but there's no soreness this time around!

On the relationship front, things are about the same. Am I stupid for hanging out with TheGuy after the whole email scandal? No doubt. But I have no delusions. I like that we spend a fair amount of time together yet we maintain our separate lives. While I'm wary and put off by the heavy, emotional stuff in a relationship, I very much enjoy having someone to embody that role of constant companion. This is what TheGuy fulfills -- my selfish desire for companionship. I never pictured us having a future together and I don't believe he does either. He still talks about wanting to teach English in Korea so I must not be much of a factor in his decision. Where that leaves us, I don't know. If I were a normal human being, I'd have broached the topic of conversation long ago. Normal? Far from that. I did meet his mom for the first time, as she's home visiting for a week, when I stopped by his house last night. She was nice and I was surprised to learn she not only knew I existed, but knew I had a cat.

Saturday night I went out with Ebeth to our usual bar with the usual people. Bumped into C-Sharp in the parking ramp so hung out with him a while too. In the bar, not the parking ramp. A few guys came up to me throughout the night, but I don't know whether they were actually hitting on me. One guy remembered me from college. I didn't know him, but knew of him because he was a nice, friendly guy, but I never would have recognized him. It's funny how you spend four years at a small college where you see all the same people around campus, at parties, and at the bars and never say one word to them but once you see them after college, you have no qualms about approaching one another.

Later on, a guy with thinning hair and a striped button-down shirt came up to me and said, "Do I know you from Vegas?" I'd seen him looking at me as if he knew me and I was wondering if it had been that Jason guy since he had texted me and I'd told him where I was. But as soon as he said Vegas, I breathed a sigh of relief. I believe my response was something like, "Uhhh..." Well, I was in Vegas a few months ago but I was really wasted 90% of the time so I guess anything is possible. Then he added, "Are you a writer/producer in Vegas?" I should have said yes and messed with him, but I didn't, prompting him to turn and walk away sheepishly. Was it a line? Maybe, but I don't think so. I saw him again later that night and he shot me a look of humiliation as he passed by.

Around 12:30, Jason sent a text saying he didn't know if he'd make it to the bar I was at, as he had planned on trying to stop by. I figured it meant he wasn't coming and Ebeth and I were already kinda bored so we both took off around 1. When I got to my car, I sent him a text letting him know I'd gone home early and he responded by saying that he was already on his way. So we missed one another by minutes. Oh well. He had told me, "It's all good" and "hit me up sometime" in his last text. All I know remember of him is this: 1.) He graduated from Eagan in 2000 so he's a year younger than me. I really hate that fact but I could probably deal. 2.) He played soccer. 3.) He lives in Bloomington and his parents live in Milwaukee. I programmed his last name into my phone because I already had another Jason in my phone book, so I'm pretty sure I found him on Facebook but I can't look at his profile and his picture is really tiny with a bunch of groomsmen. I guess I could ask him if he's on Facebook and add him as my friend or I could ask him if he wanted to meet for a drink, but I am kind of scared. And the anticipation of not knowing is probably way more exciting. But now I'm more curious than ever to know what he looks like.

Yesterday I went and saw my friend's baby. Babies don't like me, or maybe I don't like them, but he's undeniably cute. He was all smiles yesterday so that was definitely fun to see. Afterwards, I went and visited my old best friend from childhood. Truth be told, I'm racked with guilt anytime I hang out with her. When we were growing up, I was always the leader who made all the decisions in our little group. Then my family moved away when I was in 7th grade and things were never the same. My old best friend started hanging out with the wrong crowd and went drastically downhill from there. I often think about what would've happened if we hadn't moved. Obviously, I was only a kid at the time so I had little to no say when my parents decided to uproot our very important social lives and move to the boonies, but I know my best friend's life would be completely different today.

My She's All That Moment

It's been so long I don't know where to begin. Here's to hoping you all had black-out drunk St. Patty's Days! Mine? Not so much. Ebeth and I went downtown and met up with the usual crew. The only difference from any other Saturday night were those cheesy green beads around my neck. Early on in VIP, I recognized a guy I graduated with from high school. I'm always surprised when I see people from high school downtown. I didn't particularly enjoy high school and ridiculous as it sounds, I like to think of the downtown area as "my turf." For the most part, it seems most everyone I graduated with is married or tends to stick to the bars south of the river, but occasionally, I bump into former classmates. This is why I was so upset when I realized Ugly High School Snot lived in my apartment. Although I'm pleased to report she has vacated the premises as of several months ago and has returned to the southern suburbs (what would I do without MySpace?).

I never said one word to this guy in high school. He was the embodiment of your stereotypical jock -- captain of the football team, charming, boyish good looks. And of all the things to wear on the eve of St. Patrick's Day, what does he show up to the bar in? A tan suit. Tan blazer, open with blue button-down shirt, and tan slacks. Yes, in March, the snowiest month in Minnesota. Yet it still looks sharp on him. Not that I ever thought he was hot -- he's way too cocky for my taste. No, my heart only has room for one cocky bad boy as evidenced by my 7th grade journal entries. Yet I couldn't help but feel slightly giddy when he passed by me, stopped and said I looked familiar. Even though we had speech class together where we were required to stand alone at the head of the class and engage the audience try not to put them to sleep with your articulate, eloquent [mono]tone, I never expected him to recognize me. But he did. I suddenly found myself willing to overlook the fact he failed to recall we went to high school together when he somehow remembered my name, as if it just appeared out of thin air or in some bizarre premonition. I'm not sure who was more shocked. For that instant, I suddenly felt like I was back in high school. Or watching a made for TV movie where the popular guy knows the shy girl's name. Yup, that was me.

That's all I've got time for now. Try to post more later.

One for the Record Books

You know your blood alcohol content was likely near the .20% range when you wake to a ball of chewed bubble gum firmly planted on your nightstand. Gum you apparently put there at some point during the hours of 2:30 am (give or take a few) and 10:34 am. Because upon the realization you'd a.) gone to bed with a wad of gum in your mouth b.) slept a few hours and been fortunate enough not to choke to death on the wad of gum in your mouth, you'd decided the five feet from your bed to the nearest trash can was an impossible feat.

Saturday was T.'s birthday so we went to dinner and did some shopping. Afterwards we got ready at her place and watched Steve-O get his butt cheeks pierced together on Jackass. Some people decided they were too cool to hang out with us, but it turned out for the better since we had way more fun than we ever imagined. Per C-Sharp's suggestion, we decided to check out a new bar downtown. It didn't look a whole lot different than the old bar it replaced with the addition of some booths and a better dance floor, but it was a different crowd that seemed to attract more people in our age group (25-30).

We arrived way-too-sober, but fret not for there were drinks to be had (8 or 9 of 'em + 3 shots), dancing to be done, lack of skill aside, and boys vying for our attention. It seems the black guys have been into me lately for one approached me as we were standing near the bar. As I stood there, arms crossed, he approached from behind which is never a good thing as I learned from The Game. It caught me off-guard and made me ill-at-ease. He introduced himself, but that was it. There's nothing I detest more than awkward silence. I was too sober to carry on a conversation with him at that point, and he really just failed with his introduction. I'm sure he thought I was a total bitch but I couldn't come up with anything to say to him so he just walked off.

Fast forward to drink 6. T. and I were rather amused by the males on the dance floor. One guy insisted on raising his hands high above his head as if he were taking part in one of those energized sermons where you sing and clap and praise the Lord. Or whatever it is they do. Then there was Scary Scarf Boy who wooed women with his scarf. His red and orange silk scarf possessed the power to seduce women. He managed to invade a group of four girls and danced provactively with one who happened to either be a stripper or knew Carmen Electra's striptease video by heart.

Not quite drunk enough to dance yet, we stood beside the dance floor as innocent bystanders, mocking all the dudes making fools of themselves. All in good fun. And then the second guy to hit on me came up and asked why we weren't dancing -- the standard pick-up line of all-time. Guys should really be more creative in this regard. He was attractive and sort of charming and he was actually older than me (doesn't happen often these days). I talked to him quite a bit but he was really too good-looking for me. I know that may sound crazy, but I prefer to be the more attractive one when it comes to dating. And I instantly don't trust good-looking men, particularly the ones who know they're good-looking. I also felt bad that his friend spent some talking to T. and as we headed to the bar for our next drink, she revealed the guy had bad breath. Gross dude, get a mint. Or take a step back.

The night really didn't get started until we took our first shot and decided to occupy two seats directly beside the dance floor, slowly inching our way towards it. This is the point in the night when we met Wheelchair Guy. He and his buddies had been out on the dance floor all night so it wasn't much of a surprise when he walked up to us and said, "Hey, why aren't you girls dancing?" Again, where's the originality? "Oh, we're waiting for a good song," the standard BS response. "You look like two girls in wheelchairs sitting there," he said. Then, in unison, he motioned with both his arms as if he were spinning the wheels of a wheelchair which became this hilarious dance move for the remainder of the evening. Not only did it get us to get up and dance, but he'd managed to provide an opening for himself. Not that either of us were interested in him in that way, but if that had been the case, he'd successfully opened the lines of communication. Ever since I read The Game, I've found this sort of thing fascinating: they way men pick up women and the interaction between males and females. It also turned out that Wheelchair Guy had a possessive girlfriend at home that called every fifteen minutes to check in on him which was rather comical. We had a good time dancing with Wheelchair Guy and his buddies. That is, until we realized we needed an umbrella to deflect Wheelchair Guy's saliva as he spoke.

After about drink 7 and shot #2, things get a bit fuzzy. I know another guy tried to say hi to me on the dance floor but I just laughed it off and wondered if I happened to look extremely hot i.e., easy or if the guy-to-girl ratio just tipped the scales in my favor. We wound up talking to another group of guys but by that point, I can only imagine what I must've sounded like, slurred speech and all. Drunkity, drunk, drunk. Toward the end, T. was so wasted that she decided it was time for her to go home -- right then and there. I offered to go with her but she pretty much bolted for the door. That's usually my move. I get too drunk, vacate the premises and put myself to bed. So I stayed and hung out with Jason and our new friends and it was somehow decided they would give me a ride home. No clue if I asked or they offered, but I'm willing to bet it wasn't my idea. Fortunately Jason didn't try to invite himself up or anything (not that I would've let him), for he had to give his two friends a ride home. Or maybe that was just his excuse, for I have a feeling I was "that girl." You know, the really hammered one they felt obliged to take care of, but couldn't wait to get rid of. After I got out of the car, they probably reiterated to one another how I was indeed "that girl."

Do You Accept Cash?

Yes, I'm behind on posts. Apologies, I've had a lot going on and not enough time to blog!

GC, Lo, and myself went out to our favorite bar Friday night. Later on, we stumbled to the bar across the street to meet up with some friends of a friend. I bumped into one of TheGuy's high school friends so we caught up and I mentioned their upcoming Vegas trip for their friend's bachelor party. They will surely make our Vegas bachelorette party seem tame.

I was having fun at the bar but I couldn't ignore my growling tummy. Around 1:30 am, C-Sharp met up with us so I told him Lo and I needed replenishment. After saying goodbye to GC and friends, we stepped outside in the bitter cold. Seeing as how we were about ten minutes shy of bar close, no cabs were in the vicinity. Good thing C-Sharp is resourceful. He hailed a silver limo in our direction, saying to the driver, "Do you accept cash?" It was the first (and probably last) time I took a limo home from the bar. Knowing C-Sharp, he pre-paid the driver with a hondo to return and pick him up the following morning but the guy's business card got lost in my couch cushions along with all his loose change.

If I'm ever hired to teach non-native speakers the English language, day one will be spent perfecting the phrase "do you accept cash?"

I made the drunk dial to Pizza Lucé at 2:06 am. Pizza arrived 2:25 am. How did they even have time to cook the pizza? They must have magical ovens! Thank you Pizza Luce for your immediate response. And for your delicious garlic cheese bread. During the excruciating 19 minute wait, my coffee table turned stoner buffet was filled with tortilla chips, a giant bowl of salsa, cheese dip, and a freshly opened bag of kettle chips. Does life get any better than this? Oh yes, it does -- when you're in Vegas! Tomorrow at this time I'll be leaving on a jet plane!!

Red Wine & Bling

Friday night we met at GC's house for her pre-party birthday celebration where we enjoyed lasagna, garlic bread, and wine. Heavy on the wine. We even brought a plastic to-go cup of red wine, or "the blood of Christ," in the car to share as communion for the ride to the bar. It reminded me of high school minus the Hot 100 and Peach Schnapps.

Our group of nine attractive females caused a bit of a scene as we hit up Bella first where the shots and drinks just kept on comin'. If they weren't supplied by the friendly bartenders, the old men at the bar were generously taking turns with rounds. I even wore a dress for the occasion!

We then moved on to club Aqua where we had reservations to rent a V.I.P. table, which essentially means you're obligated to buy two bottles of alcohol at completely unreasonable, jacked-up prices. I don't know what happened but within the first five minutes, I was out $110. I couldn't hear the scantily clad cocktail waitress' explanation over the booming bass as to why it ended up being so much, but what can you do? Regardless, GC's birthday was a ton of fun! She's one of my best friends and I love her to death.

Saturday was definitely more low-key, but just as fun. A break from the downtown scene was just what I needed. I met Stripes (my co-worker) and his roommate at Billy's where we enjoyed beer and darts. I hadn't played darts in three years, so I gave them fair warning of my sucky ability only to kick their asses in the countdown game. I don't even know if that's what it's called, but I amazed everyone, myself included, with my extreme talent -- ahem, beginners' luck.

I bumped into some of TheGuy's friends, one even played darts with us -- so it was good to catch up with them (we go way back). TheGuy stopped by later too and I did a very non-convincing job of telling him I got engaged. I found this huge fake ring in the bathroom and thought it would be funny to come out and tell everyone I was engaged. What can I say? I sometimes think I'm funny, especially when drunk. Clearly, I'm not.

So I just tried to take a picture of my ring and realized my camera screen is pitch-black. Wonderful.

Birthday Blues

Saturday I went out for a friend of a friend's birthday. Birthday Girl had arranged dinner plans downtown with the intent of bar-hopping to follow. To her dismay, only three friends showed up for dinner with a few others (us included) meeting up later. This got her friends whispering things like, "Maybe if she were a better friend..." and "That's what happens when you get a boyfriend and ignore all your friends for two years."

It was ironic considering just last weekend this became the topic of conversation between TheGuy and myself. We discovered our stances differ when it comes to inviting friends out for one's birthday. I'm not one to make a big deal of my birthday. For one, I don't enjoy being in the spotlight. I do, however, wish to milk a good excuse for bringing people together with one common goal: to consume alcohol. The more drunks, the merrier.

Yet in a couple months when my super sweet golden 27th birthday rolls around, I won't be sending out mass emails, texts or posting a MySpace bulletin announcing my plans as if it were equivalent to a visit from the Pope. I know my close friends will inquire about plans and not-very-close friends who like to have a good time (i.e., pass out in gutters) will do the same.

I've been in way too many situations where I've felt obligated to attend a birthday celebration for someone I don't consider a close-enough friend. Awkwardness is guaranteed to ensue. If you go, you're miserable, forcing small talk with people you either don't know or met once but don't recall because you were seeing double at the time. Here's where it helps to drag a friend along (preferably one that owes you a favor) for moral support. If you don't go, you feel guilty as a result of all the pressure put upon you to attend. The next time you invite said Birthday Boy/Girl to do something, they'll be reminded of your absence, thus rendering them less likely to reciprocate the offer.

Birthdays are fun. But it can be a major downer when your birthday rolls around and your so-called friends go MIA or suddenly remember their promise to drive Grandma to the airport -- or even worse -- forget your birthday altogether.

Recovery Mode

Yesterday I woke up feeling like I'd aged twenty-five years. My Diet Mountain Dew caffeine fix didn't even cut it. Late-night boozing + 3 hours of sleep + 8 A.M. runs = exhaustion. As if the energy drain weren't enough, my leg muscles ached with a stiffness I hadn't experienced since I started running again last March. Apparently, my body felt the need to punish me for not taking better care of itself! Painfully questioning, how the hell do you plan on running 26.2 miles in a month?

I don't have the energy to give a detailed weekend run-down so you get the truncated version. Friday night GC and I hit up The Loop. Every time I go there, I like it even more -- good music, laid-back atmosphere, older crowd (25-35 age range). Through repeat visits, we've established a "regular" bartender -- she bought our first round!

GC and I saddled up to the bar and passed judgment, as we do. She noted that most of the people there are average-looking, but they're dressed nicely. The majority of guys wear button-down shirts and the girls wear cute tops. So true! And what a difference it makes. I love hanging out with her -- she really cracks me up and always offers insightful observations. Never a dull moment.

TheGuy texted and asked what I was doing so he met up with us later. By the time he got to The Loop, he had to stand in line seeing as how he wasn't a hot chick. To further delay his wait, some drunk douchebag directly in front of him kept harassing the bouncers, eventually calling one of them a "fucker" and getting kicked out of line. Prior to TheGuy's arrival, he sent me a text saying he was at some bar in the suburbs where there were thirty dudes and two chicks, wanting to know if I thought it was a gay bar. Turns out it's just some dive bar in a strip mall, as he explained later. Funny nonetheless, especially when GC said, "So you were at a gay bar?"

Not-So-Honorable Mentions:

- Someone had a heinous case of gas all night - it was foul and obnoxious
- One chick (the crazy dancing fool she is) got permission from the bartenders to dance on the bar and wowed everyone by doing the splits
- I met some girl while standing in line for the bathroom - our urination schedule was in sync
- Note to self: Stop sleeping in your contacts!

Saturday I went out with a friend downtown. We bounced around from place to place, bumping into friends and acquaintances along the way. We spent time at The Annex in hopes of spotting my friend's crush and he did, in fact, turn up there, but it was so packed that we never found him again and she later learned he left five minutes after we saw him.

Over the weekend, it was apparent just how much I go out these days. At my regular places, I no longer have to pull out my I.D., the bartenders know what I drink, and they hook us up. When I end up in AA, I'm blaming them.

Bring Your Dancing Shoes

Last night I met up with a guy friend of mine and a few of his co-workers. In a quick phone conversation prior to meeting up, he said, "I'm here with three HOT guys." He then proceeded to hand the phone off to one of the three HOT guys, who wanted to make sure I knew how to get where they were going and told me to bring my "dancing shoes." Yes, that's right, your eyes are not deceiving you: dancing shoes. Luckily, there was no bringing of the dancing shoes since we ended up on the rooftop patio at The Drink. Did I fail to mention the long ass line you must wait in just to stand on the patio (seating is limited)? At least my friend came up with a no-fail excuse for the bouncer: tell him you forgot to close out your tab -- works like a charm.

So the HOT friends were not-so-hot. They weren't ugly by any means, but nothing to write home about. DancingShoesGuy was the cuter of the two single guys, but what turned me off was his outfit. He tried too hard with his white track jacket (which would've looked good on its own) and matching trendy shorts and hat. There was way too much thought process involved in the planning of his wardrobe -- perhaps he was compensating for something??

I saw many attractive females last night so I don't know how it happened (maybe I should give them the benefit of the doubt and call it a serious case of beer goggles) that DancingShoesGuy and his wingman spent the entire night talking to the nastiest women there. I swear, if you took away these ladies' make-up, styled hair, and cleavage-baring dresses, they'd look like ogres. They were tall, busty, and big-haired with the make-up of a tranny. No lie. They looked old too, upper 20s (guys were 23 & 25), maybe that explains the need for excess make-up. The irony is that these women claimed to work for Chanel and were not shy about dropping that bit of info. Perhaps Chanel recently came out with a drag queen line.

The third co-worker was celebrating his last day at work as he plans to move on to bigger and better things. He was dorky with side-swept hair, tapered jeans, and tennis shoes -- the kind you'd wear to the gym. To attest to his nerdiness, he has a Beagle named Chewbacca and on his first date with his wife, she asked if he liked Star Wars. Fortunately for her, it was a match made in geek heaven, as she later told him it would've been a dealbreaker had he said "no." He was friendly and nice, however, and I'm glad he was there 'cause I enjoyed talking to him.

StarWarsGuy told my friend he thought I was cool for the sole reason I could pick out a skank a mile away. We spent most of the time mocking the single guys' lame attempt to hook up with the Chanel Ogres while they mooched drinks and bummed cigarette-after-cigarette from said clueless men. The best quote of the night was from a married college friend of my friend who said (after a girl in a V-neck pushed her way past him): "I just got moved by a breast. I was already having a good night, but that was the icing on the cake." Glad to see he got some married guy action. The two marrieds also spoke of their wedding bands being a chick magnet -- another reason to delay marriage?!?

I didn't stay out long and gave StarWarsGuy a ride back to his car since it was on my way home. We continued talking about the pathetic pick-up scene we'd just witnessed and he couldn't get over the fact his buddy (the wingman) had no idea that one of the Ogres clearly had zero interest judging by her body language. StarWarsGuy has been married four years, so in that time, he's learned a great deal about women and the way they think. He said if he'd known what he knows now, he'd have gotten a lot more women back in his single days. Miscommunication between men and women is palpable -- while women overanalyze every word that comes out of a man's mouth, guys are totally oblivious. They say things and sometimes, as hard as it is to believe, it means absolutely nothing. In terms of mood, StarWarsGuy said guys are one of three things: 1.) Hungry 2.) Sleepy 3.) Horny

3 very enlightening words.

One Big Party?

I get the impression from those who read my blog they think my life is one big party. Ha, I wish! Sure, I go out on weekends and drink one, or two (ok, sometimes more than a few) too many alcohol-laden beverages, but oftentimes, these nights of reckless abandon turn out to be a bust. When nothing exciting occurs, I resort to making fun of the d-bags we meet and their pathetic attempt to get laid -- the things you gotta do for a story!

One of my friends asked me if I enjoyed being single more than being in a relationship. It's a good question -- one I don't know that I have an answer to. Here's the thing -- if you know me, you know I'm resistant to change. I'm a creature of habit: I wake up several minutes before my alarm, my stomach starts growling around 11 am and 6 pm every day, and my body will only work out at certain times of the day. I enjoy following a set schedule, but I know it's limiting and I become prone to falling in a rut.

So when I hear things like, "My weekend was so boring compared to yours," the writer in me promptly takes credit for my questionable ability to make a boring story entertaining, but I'm also reminded of my non-single days. When I had a boyfriend, my life was nothing like the drunken binge it is now. More often than not, weekend highlights consisted of dinner and a movie and that was perfectly acceptable to me. Granted, we went out with friends too, but as time wore on, the pairing of couples expanded like Deborah's waistline and slowly but surely, our circle of friends began dropping like flies.

If you're in a relationship, things are predictable whereas when you're single, you come to expect the unexpected. I suppose that's where the excitement element comes into play. Do I HAVE to go out and consume copious amounts of liquor every weekend? Certainly not. Is it more fun that way? It certainly is. You never know who you're gonna meet, who you'll bump into from your past (or present), or where you'll find yourself come the end of the evening (3rd floor of the Vu).

In response to my friend's question, I don't know that I prefer one over the other, but now that I'm here, I like the place that I'm in. It definitely took me a while to make the transition -- I basically spent the first two months after the break-up holed up at my parents' house every weekend. I had no desire to go out or be social, but even if I had, I felt as though I had no one. It was rough, but getting past that opened the door to so many new experiences and friends. I'm enjoying not knowing what's in store for the future...

Double Digits

Pretty sure I hit double digits last night in cocktails. My friend’s co-workers had a work outing and they partied it up downtown so she invited me to go out with them. We started at The Imperial Room and spent the rest of the night dancing at Rosen’s. Her co-workers were really fun and the guys were great dancers (far from your stereotypical white boy dance moves) so that made for great entertainment.

Random shit found in pocket next morning:

1.) Crumpled $2 intended for the tip jar of DJ who played our songs and bought us a shot
2.) Blue tootsie pop

I am envious of the fact my friend works with such a fun group of young professionals. I wish I could say the same. In job news, my raise FINALLY went through, but I’m still in the dark as to how much of a boost it is. However, it doesn’t change the fact I hate my job with a passion, and I deserve so much better than what I’m doing. When my internet starts working again (Qwest is garbage, I had to come to Panera to use their Wi-Fi), I really need to push myself to be proactive in my job search. I’m disgusted every time I hear myself tell others what I do for a living.

And in other news, I could not be any happier with the change in weather. With the humidity gone, I got three good outdoor runs in last week and it felt wonderful. I’m actually looking forward to doing some long runs in prep for the marathon now that it’s cooler.

Why do I do this to Myself?

In college, I worked in the cafeteria as part of the work/study program. It was never more than ten hours a week, but it was nice to have the extra cash in hand -- $5 for a plastic cup filled with shitty keg beer went a loooong way. During a salad bar shift one night, I worked with a high schooler, MJ. He lived in town and had a mom who worked in the pizzeria. He spent the entire three-hour shift hitting on me. He was funny and nice, but it was comical at the time – all I could think was, yeah right, you’re in high school.

In the time since I graduated college and he graduated high school, we randomly cross paths in Minneapolis. The first time I was drunk. My ex-boyfriend and I, along with a few of our friends, were going to his place to pass out after the bar. MJ, also an apartment resident, was standing outside having a cigarette. I continued to see him a number of times in that same exact spot.

Then a few years ago, my friends and I went to a bar/restaurant in NE Minneapolis for a birthday dinner and he happened to be a server. Not our server, but we spoke briefly in passing.

I went back to that same place Friday night, and sure enough, he was still there – only he’d moved his way up to bartender.

He told me he sees me running while he’s biking and asked if I lived in the warehouse district. My reply: “That’s embarrassing.” I cringe at the thought of people I know seeing me running. I imagine I look like a total idiot: arms flailing, gasping for breath, sweating like a pig. Not a pretty picture. He’s the second person now to tell me they saw me running and I didn’t see them.

I must digress for a moment. Remember Buzzkill Biatch? I’ve tried very hard to like her, but it’s just not possible. She’s changed and I will NEVER like her. I must accept this and remember it next time she pesters me about going out and I have no plans. I usually ignore her calls and emails, but when I do break down and hang out with her (from lack of better options), I question why.

Chalk it up to amnesia, but the reason we went to this NE bar was that I decided to hang out with BB and her friend for a girl’s birthday. The big b-day group was out on the patio, but service was slow so we ordered food and sat at the bar inside and talked to MJ. On our tab, he only charged us for two drinks even though I’d had three and she’d had two. Of course this presented a dilemma for me because BB is so damn cheap and had no qualms about taking full advantage of the free alcohol. I later went back and got a drink from MJ and left a huge tip because I was embarrassed about the pathetic tip she left earlier. He called out, “Not necessary!” But whatever, I worked in the service industry once upon a time.

The evening almost went without a hitch (in that she didn’t annoy the hell out of me) until she made a snide remark about one of my friends, saying, “I wasn’t overly impressed.” Thanks for sharing, but if I wanted your opinion, I would’ve asked. Contrary to what this blog may lead you to believe, I’m very laid-back and rarely take offense or get upset over what people say. It’s not worth it to me. But without realizing it, she single-handedly has the ability to get under my skin in a way no one else can.

I always feel like an ass when I get recognized by someone I have no recollection of meeting or someone I should remember like the time I asked the guy on the elevator who lived directly across the hall for the last two years which floor he was going to. I got to experience this Friday night when a guy that lives in my building approached me and asked if I lived in the same apartment complex -- he didn’t look the least bit familiar. The same thing happened to me at a wedding a couple years ago with a guy who recognized me from work and I quickly came to realize I see him all the damn time.

It Never Ends

Saturday night I met GC at our regular hangout -- per usual, we met our fair share of winners.

The Social Retard

While standing at the bar, ordering drinks, Social Retard tapped GC on the shoulder.

SR: Are you gonna order me an Absolut tonic?

GC: No.

She shot him a dirty look.

SR: I thought you were taking drink orders.

GC: That's the worst pick-up line I've ever heard.

If I knew the equivalent of a high-five or fist bump for women, I would have used appropriate gesture. Awesome.

The Smooth Talker

His name was AJ and he was flying solo that night, but he didn't need a wingman. Instead of using a bad line (see above), he marched up to us and ripped on us for evading men by checking our cell phones. It was two against one, however, so we ganged up on him as soon as we noticed his fruity drink. It was something clear in a short glass with ice and two lemons, two limes.

Me: Are you sure don't need another lime or lemon?

AJ: Huh?? This is hardcore -- straight gin. Try it.

GC: Is that sangria?

The banter went back and forth as such, it was a chuckle and a half.

Note to AJ: If you wanna look like a badass by drinking straight liquor, ditch the fruity accessories. Or maybe just order a beer next time.

The Nigerian

A couple weeks ago when GC and I were at the bar, a Nigerian fellow caught her attention. While they made "eyes" at one another from across the bar, he never came over and talked to us. He was there, again, so GC decided to initiate. We conveniently ordered drinks beside him and his friend which began the conversation. About ten to fifteen minutes later, AJ reappeared at the bar with a lady friend we'd seen him attempting to schmooze earlier. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but it looked as though he got shot down so naturally, I started making fun of him.

I don't know what brought it on, but out of nowhere, The Nigerian decided to call out AJ, accusing him of being a bullshitter. He claimed to have met AJ before, but AJ, seemingly aghast The Nigerian even knew his name, swore up and down he'd never met him in his life. The two ended up causing a bit of a scene so GC and I excused ourselves and headed out to the patio. Funny thing was when we came back in, AJ and The Nigerian were standing at the bar, chatting away as if they were old college roommates. What's the story there? Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe it was all staged.

GC's sister came to pick her up around 1:30 so I decided to go meet a few guy friends at The Front. I was done drinking for the night, but hadn't seen them in a while so it was fun to catch up. One of them was pretty wasted - - always entertaining. It was my first experience at The Front and I have to say, I kind of enjoyed it. There's a dj who spins and there were a lot of crazies dancing, namely this young woman dressed like a gypsie in a crop top and long, flowing skirt, off in her own little world, i.e., high on some really good drugs.

After the bar, we went to Santana's. It's greasy food for drunks. My friend ordered the zuchinni fries and regular fries so I ate some of both, instantly regretting my decision when stomach pains kicked in almost immediately.

It was an eventful two hours:

-- A guy with a blood trickling down the left side of his face came up and started mumbling incoherent statements

-- Friend decided to ask the owner (who remembered two of them from ten years ago) about Eddie Griffin crashing his car into Santana's while watching porn

-- Same friend laughed so hard he spit soda all over

-- Inappropriate questions were raised such as, "If you had to choose, would you rather wish _______ or _______ were on the 35-W bridge?"

-- A drunk ass that failed to stop at a stop sign nearly collided with an oncoming Jeep that came to a screeching halt

-- I've never seen two 30+ year old men so excited over magnetic poetry

Marking One's Territory

Yesterday was busy. I got up, went to the gym, and did 8 miles on the treadmill. Thought that was pretty good until I came home and checked my marathon "schedule" that said I should have done 12.

Then I went over to Stripes' house and we watched the first four episodes of season three of Weeds. He found them online and downloaded them, complete with French subtitles. Since I was very much looking forward to the new season, I kind of felt like I cheated or something by watching them early. I think disappointment may be too strong of a word, but I wasn't exactly jumping up and down with anticipation by the end. Don't worry, no spoilers though. Andy's storyline is my favorite thus far.

From Stripes' place, I headed to GC's. She invited me to her co-worker's BBQ which was way out in the middle of nowhere in the northern suburbs. I didn't know anyone other than her, so that always makes for somewhat of an uncomfortable situation, but it was a good time in all. I had the biggest hamburger of my life -- it was so THICK. It literally took half an hour to finish. The hostess said they were from Costco. Damn, that was one hunk of meat.

GC's co-worker was a character. She played Michael Jackson's Greatest Hits album, spontaneously busting out in lyrics and dance moves throughout the evening. As we were leaving, she said, "I'm sorry there weren't any cute boys here for you guys to make out with. I'd hook you up with my boyfriend's friends if they weren't all losers."

After the party, GC and I went to Miami. It was a strange crowd. Never seen so many black shirts, tats, and piercings in such an unusual locale. Most likely had something to do with the Uptown Art Fair being this weekend.

Anyway, the night got interesting when GC told me she thought she saw Nick from Big Brother. Of course, at the mere mention of the show, my ears perk up. I didn't see him right away, he was probably outside smoking, but she swore up and down it was him. Okay, she saw the show for the first time Thursday night. I live and breathe the show (albeit no one is very enthralled this season) and it definitely wasn't him. Despite my declaration it looked nothing like him, she was adamant, however, saying she knew it was him 'cause she thought he was hot, so we kept giving him looks until he finally came over to ask why.

Instead of asking flat-out if he was a contestant on Big Brother, she asked his name. I don't recall what it was, but alas, it was not Nick. She thinks she knows him from somewhere, but they never figured out the connection. Still, they had a lovely conversation until the owner of Miami, who happens to be smitten with GC, saw what was going on and came out to stake his claim. If he were a dog, he would've lifted his leg and pissed on her. GC and I were sitting on stools at the bar so the owner came up behind GC and started rubbing her shoulders. His gesture was so blatantly obvious, it scared off NotNick instantly -- he pretty much ran away as fast as he could.

In shock, the rest of the night GC kept repeating, "Did that really happen?" Before we left Miami, she really wanted to give NotNick her phone number, so she boldly approached him at the bar. But all because of a little shoulder rub, she got shot down. NotNick's polite response: "We know the same people." Meaning, he knew the owner and didn't feel like getting his ass kicked anytime soon.

We went to Bar Abilene for a bit, but it was too early to be exciting so since we were both exhausted, we decided to call it a night. Too many booze and boys (notice I said boys, not men) for one night.

Mid-week Weekend

Since Tuesday was like a Saturday night with the mid-week break, I enjoyed a night of fun with friends and booze. GC and I decided to take advantage of the Tuesday night specials downtown.

$4 martinis at The Loop = loopy. I had two cosmos plus three mixed drinks. But I felt like I had 12 drinks in all. It'd been a long time since I was that intoxicated. I got to meet GC's roommate and guy friend who were both really cool.

After appetizers and strong cocktails, a small group of us went to the club NV. It was interesting to say the least. Soon after we walked in, my guy friend turned to me and said, "Is it Indian night?" I told him to ask GC, but I failed to hear her response over the reverberating bass. The majority of the crowd was, in fact, Indian. Music selection was unusual -- I hadn't heard any of it before, but the Indians seemed to be down with it. In fact, one guy was so into it, he even broke it all the way down to the floor. Very entertaining!

If I were subject to hangovers, I'd put more thought into the consequences of my drinking, but somehow or another, I bounce back without so much as a headache. Of course, there have been times that proved otherwise, but it's fairly rare. I got up yesterday at 7:30 am and walked to my car. I felt much better knowing my car was where I left it, still parked at the meter outside the bar. It took me a while to get going, but after changing into my workout clothes and procrastinating by playing with Marley for thirty minutes, I ran six miles. I've been slacking lately so it felt good to have a decent run. I would've gone further if I hadn't been so dehydrated. Hmm...I wonder why.

The afternoon could've been a productive one, but instead I watched my soap opera, Young and the Restless, took a nap, and watched The Devil Wears Prada. I can't stand Anne Hathaway, but I couldn't help but be curious about the movie so I bought it when it was on sale at Target last week. It fell flat, just like I thought it would. It had the potential to be better, but it was pretty blah. I'm sure the book is much, much better. Maybe I'll check it out if I ever decide to pick up a book and read again.

My friend and I went to dinner and then we watched the fireworks outside my apartment. Last year, we watched them from the Stone Arch Bridge, but we were packed in like sardines so it wasn't the most enjoyable experience. This year, we took a chance and camped out on a blanket on a small incline that turned out to be the perfect view!

Oh, yesterday also marked Deborah's birthday. On Tuesday, I brought in a Bakers Square cherry pie (her favorite) and vanilla ice cream -- you'd have thought she won 50 grand playing the lottery. She made sure to keep it hidden so she wouldn't have to share.

My friend captured this pic on her camera.

The Falls

Forgive me for I intend to skim over the details of last night. The downtown scene has officially gone sour! I hit up all the usual bars -- Rosen's, Harvey's, The Annex, The Drink. It was same old, same old.

One noteworthy bit was the Independence Day decorations at The Annex. The place was adorned with cheap, plastic red, white, and blue star spiral-shaped mobiles. The cocktail waitresses, bartenders and go-go dancers were decked out in military fatigues. But the strangest of all were these life-like soldiers in combat gear equipped with rifles. There were two, one on each podium, positioned on the go-go dancer platforms. It was creepy and odd; I'm still haunted by those images.

A couple humorous things I witnessed were three different sloppy drunk chicks taking a dive -- two on the dance floor, one in the middle of a street intersection. Another source of entertainment was a dude on the dance floor of The Annex with the worst hairstyle I've ever seen. I don't know if he was trying to conceal a receding hairline or what, but his hair, which looked like the result of a perm gone awry, was combed forward in the most awkward fashion. My guy friend dubbed it "the waterfall."

That pretty much brings me up to speed to today where it was a relaxing day at the Savage Lifetime pool with friends. I did a careless job with the sunscreen application as the red streaks and patches on my arms and shoulders indicate. Oh well. Tonight I'm lookin' forward to Ratatouille! I'd write more, but I have a sleepy kitty on my lap. Speaking of, I may need a cat nap myself.

The Royal Treatment

I know, I'm behind on posting. Busy weekend! Here goes.

Even though I swore I was sick and tired of downtown bars, guess where I found myself Saturday evening? Just can't stay away. I met my friend at our usual meeting place, the parking ramp across from The Quest.

We made our rounds, starting with Rosen's, then Old Chicago, and ending with The Annex. When all three bars were dead, we were about to call it a night at 11 pm. Dejected, we headed to our cars, but during the walk, both managed to find back-up plans. She drove to Major's in Bloomington to meet up with one of her friends and I called GC, who was on her way to Bellanotte so I backtracked that direction.

GC was with her best friend and her cousin, whom I'd met the night at Acme Comedy Club. She happened to be celebrating her 21st birthday. As if I needed another reason to feel old!

GC and her BFF are regulars at Bella so they've gotten to know a few of the older gentlemen who frequent the place. After we all bought our first round of drinks, mine an $8.50 Captain Coke, the drinks just kept on coming from different men! The owner of one of the downtown clubs bought us drink #2. Halfway through the drink, he ordered a round of lemon drops. Approximately a minute and a half later, we were toasting Washington Apples. Barely had time to blink between shots!

Then we moved on to club NV to meet up with their other friends. Mixed feelings about the name of the club. GC and her BFF know the bouncers and door staff so there was no waiting in line or cover charge. While waiting in line at the bar, GC began talking to the random in front of her. When he asked what she wanted, she told him, "3 Grey Goose/pears." Nice work on her part! It was quite possibly the best drink I've ever had. Tasted like candy!

After the delicious drink, GC decided we should make a stop at the club, Aqua, right next door. Rather than wait in line, GC went right up to the bouncer and said, "Are you from North Dakota?" After they bonded over ND talk, the bouncer unclipped the velvet rope and let us in.

The embarrassing part was when we didn't have enough cash for cover. It was $10 a person. We were about to leave -- I was halfway down the exit stairs when GC called me back and we snuck past the door check woman.

Aqua was pretty cool. GC immediately started chatting up a random in VIP who invited us to join him and his crew -- half were women who shot us evil, bitchy looks the entire time. VIP dude poured each of us a shot of straight vodka so we grabbed a pitcher of orange juice to make mini screwdrivers in a double shot glass! I hadn't had a screwdriver since college -- it was a little rough going down, but we were troopers.

After our stint in VIP, we went back to NV for more dancing and fun. I assume I probably had another drink, but it's a little hazy. I do remember cutting myself off by turning down a shot when a Bella guy showed up and insisted on buying Birthday Girl another shot.

There weren't any funny guy stories, but I was approached by a Wingwoman. She pointed to her friend and said, "This is my friend. He's a really nice guy and I just want him to meet a cute girl with a career and a good head on her shoulders and you look like that." When I asked why she didn't hook up with him, she said he was like a brother to her.

She tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Isn't she beautiful?" and introduced us. She kept repeating that. He and I talked a little, but then I told him I had to find my friends, even though I knew exactly where they were, dancing in a large group just a few feet away. So the entire time we were dancing, he and his friends were standing right next to us. Kind of awkward, but oh well.

He was "okay" as far as attractiveness, but I was super turned off by the Wingwoman doing his work for him. It made me wonder if there was something wrong with him. Why did he need a girl friend to pick up women for him? Was he shy? Desperate? Either way, turn-off!

It was yet another crazy fun night with GC. In a brief phone conversation the following day, she claimed that was the most she'd had to drink in four years. Meanwhile, I was thinking, wow, I wasn't even the least bit hungover! Hmm, not sure if that's a good or bad thing...

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.

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!