Question: How can you tell you had a fun night of drinking with the girls for your birthday.
I think I came home dead ass drunk and propositioned my husband. I can' t be sure but I'm figuring that's how I got naked. Though when I get past a certain level of alcohol I tend to take my clothes off. Has been that way since college. So when I woke up with my naked back pressed up against something warm I assumed it was my husband. When I heard him in the hallway outside the bedroom (nice man keeping the kids away till mommy slept it off) I turned to find that my (again naked) ass was pressed up against the dog. Ugh. Shower!
This night deserves more than a hungover blog addicted ramble because it was legendary. We started by drinking HUGE margaritas at Lalos, the little Mexico in Berwyn. Carol balked at the $11 dollar margarita (Lalos has the best margaritas in the midwest and they will kick any panty white ass). But by the end of dinner we were all shushing Carol who was buzzed and yelling out funny things that I would write here if I wasn't too hungover to recall.
After Lalos we headed to Brixies for more drink'n. Brixies is this tough Brookfield, Il bar that attracts bar bands with white snake hair. Half the bar is pool tables and you can usually count on a fight if you hang out past 1am. Love it! When we walked in I saw that the "Bad Beer of the Month" was Schlitz in a can. Hot damn. I'm from Wisconsin and we ain't no stinking beer snobs. I was drinking cheap and easy all night. A nice guy sitting at the bar kept buying our table all these shots. Not sure what they were but my lips are still stained purple from all the cranberry juice in them.
After a few rounds of drinks the girls started confessing. Who swallows, who won't do it at all and who read my blog entry about the neighbor boy with the hot body. Neighbor boy? He just walked in! "Oh my god I knew you partied! Don't tell my mom I'm smoking! Don't tell my mom I'm drinking this much." at which point neighbor boy's hilarious friend pops his head in and says, "Don't tell neighbor boy I f*cked his mom". Snort.
I then told him all the stories his mom had shared with me, "I found a bottle of vodka in my son's room, but he says it was a friends and I believe him." and the best "My son needs to buy this herbal medicine because he was at a party and thinks he might have inhaled some pot that this girl near him was smoking. Sears (where he worked) is giving employee drug tests on Monday and he's really worried, poor guy." He turned white and offered up lots of free babysitting which I'm not ashamed to admit I took him up on. He was too young to realize he had lots of info on me that I didn't want his mom to know. LIke the fact that I was crapfaced in a dive bar when the husbands were all back at my house watching the kids. (By the way, before you add drinking with minors to my bad momma list neighbor boy is 21.)
Did I mention my mom was out with us? (Love you mom). At one point she said, "I'm gonna go sleep in the van". We all offered to leave but she actually wanted to sleep in the van without it moving for awhile. So mom was passed out in a bed of crushed goldfish crackers while we had a few more rounds. At one point Carol got the idea that we should call home and see how the boys were getting along with the kids. This led to a hilarous drunk dialing episode since the bar was too noisy to hear what they said, but they could clearly hear bar noises (Cheap Trick songs, yelling and pool balls clicking) every time we called them. We thought it was pretty funny, but they didn't look so amused when we returned home.
I'm so proud of Carol for busting out a drunken ladies night with me. And sister Tela is always fun to hang out with. She is the best drunken babysitter as well. Back in my wilder days I was with Tela at a dance club (my 29th birthday) and completely over my limit. This slimy dude in a silk shirt came up to me with a shot of whiskey. Tela tried to talk him out of it but he wouldn't listen. I tossed it back and then tossed my cookies on his shirt. Of course I suavely figured I could keep talking and pretend it didn't happen. So I just brushed at my shirt and kept the convo going. Tela dragged me into the bathroom with the other girls that were out with us so they could clean me up. I think they figured it was time to leave but I was told at one point I yelled, "Wow, I love this song let's go dance! Do I look ok?". They paused a minute in their task of daubing wet paper towels on my shirt, looked at each other, back at me and said, "Yea you look great, let's go." And we did.
Sadly my good friend from college, Alisa, couldn't come with us and I think she'll regret it since it is her dog I'm dogsitting. We went to DePaul University because we both just couldn't take the idea of school in an Illinois cornfield. The bad thing about college in the city is that there is no such thing as cheap drinking. The students finally found a dive bar called Bamboo Bernies that served extra large brandy snifters filled with a noxious and potent blue booze. They would put grenadine in a plastic shark's mouth and turn it upside down in your blue drink. Add two to three straws and by 2 am Bamboo Bernie's bathroom was a war zone of woozy urpy blue girls.
Many a night was spent beating back unwanted advances from undesirables by waving around our plastic sharks and sneering with our smurfin blue lips. Before husband and I got married I gathered some girls for a night out and revisited Bamboo Bernies. In the cab back to our apartments I realized that I urgently had to pee but was too drunk to articulate the need. I slyly calculated that since I was sitting in the front seat of the cab I could wait till the driver stopped the car. Then I could dash out, pee and dash back into the cab without anyone being the wiser. Of course in reality it went down like this. My drunken self was having this internal conversation for the better part of a red light. Just as the light was turning I popped open the door, hopped out and started running like a bat outta hell down the sidewalk. Apparently it was very startling to my drunken friends who recall this story every time we go out.
Aaah drunk stories. People say that they will sit around the old folk's home recalling memories of raising their children and making a home. I don't doubt it but I know that the memories of drunken girlfriend nights will keep me warm in my old age too.
Ok, It's time something greasy and another Aleve.