Getting together with friends for a drunken blow-out is always a good vacation from the typical day-to-day drudgery of work, home, kids, and spouses. It also helps, at least temporarily, in helping to forget the lyrics of the "Mighty Machines" theme song and decreasing the impulse to point out every police car, firetruck, ambulance, truck and "racing" car (read: anything red to a 2-year old boy) with a desperate falsetto in an attempt to distract your kids from trying to unbuckle their car seat and fling themselves out of the car. Apparently, one day I'll miss this. (???)
So in case you didn't know, this weekend we had my college friend Jess' bachelorette party which is sort of why this post is as late as it is. I'm surprisingly not as hungover as I thought I might be, but the sleep deprivation thing KILLS me anymore. I've always been an "I need 8 hours or I'll kill someone" type of girl. My brain is so fuzzy and uncoordinated right now I might as well be hungover. We hit up a whiskey bar ($5 shot and a beer specials are everyone's best frenemy--woo-hoo!!), sang karaoke at Yakatori Boy (Did you know, when I'm drunk, I sound JUST LIKE Adele, Lady Gaga, and Beyonce? Effing amazing!!),
|Ermahgerd karaoke ternerght!|
and then to Fado where we redeemed our tarnished reputations (last time we were all there was a St. Patrick's Day eons ago. We were there starting at 2pm after pre-gaming (of course), Guinness, Red Bull and vodkas abounded, and I'm pretty sure we shut the bar down. It was not a pretty sight. *Hangs head in shame*). However, I'm happy to report that we were the poster girls for happy, good drunken fun and danced the night away once the DJ decided to play "Bust A Move" and circa-1990 to1999 hip hop for the rest of the night. I'm pretty sure we also had several long conversations composed of just " Dumb and Dumber" quotes, which is not at all unusual for us but apparently draws frightened stares from people when you're running down Broad Street shrieking "We got no food, we got no jobs....our pet's HEADS are falling off!!" Relax people....move along...nothing to see here....
Of course, it always devolves into drunken remembrances of carefree days with absolutely no responsibility and what you felt were the "priorities" in life. (I'm sorry, I can't take that 2 o clock class...Days of Our Lives is on. I have 3 classes in ONE day? That's 3 HOURS?? WTF?? I have to change my schedule!! I can't take that MUCH work.). That and scrounging for change in your apartment because you needed that last $5 to go buy a keg. And when you found that forgotten, crumpled bill in the back pocket of last weekend's bar outfit it was like finding El Dorado. To the caaaaaaar! Shotgun!
You also start reminiscing about all the crazy crap you did together, the mistakes, and walks of shame made by members the crew (OMG, remember when you hooked up with so and so? Nope. No, I don't. But that's why I have you jerks to remind me of that not-so-proud moment....EVERY. TIME). And of course there were the nicknames you gave to the other people that only you and your friends know them by. I've changed them slightly to protect the innocent or not so innocent; Googly Eyes and the Muppet, Rick the Rapist (Not a rapist in the least. Long story though.), Big Head Hannah (It's like an orange on a toothpick! said in my best Mike Myers' "So I Married an Axe Murderer" Scottish accent), Random Cocaine Boy (No need to protect anyone there. He was exactly what his name implies.) Good times, good times....
|I wish I thought of this.|