The Good and the Bad

My weekend went something like this...

Good Shots

Raspberry kamikaze
Scooby Snack
Lemon drop

Bad Shots

Grape ape
B-52

If you thought I learned my lesson the first time around when I downed three grape apes in a row, you thought wrong. I only had one this time but it was enough to send me home early yet again. Other than vodka and Buddy's Grape soda, there's some myserious component that generates this negative response in my body -- it's not so much a sick feeling, but moreso the "I'm so crabby I want to die" feeling.

I had fun however -- the short while it lasted. The highlight being a random run-in with C-Sharp's most recent crush. I'll spare the use of her name but let's just say it's prevalent among nursing homes nationwide. She was cute and seemingly has a good head on her shoulders so she got my stamp of approval (not that anyone asked for it). It's pretty sad when you show up at 9 and can't outlast those in your group that have been drinking since noon. Oh, and Sparky showed up; I left ten minutes later. He was either mad or pretended to be mad. Tragically, when you leave the bar at 11:30, you get a lame blog post such as this. Dammit.

Saturday I met GC's childhood friend that was in town. She was super nice and cute and married. This loser douchebag acquaintance of ours showed up at the bar and started hitting on her right away. He got to be a major buzzkill with his persistent creepiness and phony lines such as, "You look like a million bucks tonight" and "You're too hot to be a nurse." Poor girl!

Lucky for GC, she was out of earshot range during all this, but when she found out how perturbed we were by his presence, she was quick to rectify the situation by herding our group to the patio. Two minutes later, guess who showed up for a smoke? He saw us and noted we weren't smoking, but I don't think he picked up on the fact we'd only gone outside to escape him. Or maybe he did. He moved on to some blonde in a red halter top. Whew. We met up with others, then split up, bounced to a couple more clubs, met some dudes in VIP that wanted us to go to some party off highway 280. We capped off the night by flirting with the 28-year-old valet attendant (after accusing him of being 18).

So I had a headache all day yesterday despite doing the things I usually do to cure a hangover -- being a total couch potato and loading up on caffeinated, non-diet soda and greasy food. I didn't drink that much so I'm convinced it was the B-52 shot Creepy bought us. Combined with the fact I'm old.

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.