Saturday, August 15, 2009

"i'm not getting drunk tonight"

Famous last words.

On Thursday night I went out with tur(d) and Chanz for a few drinks. As I was leaving the apartment I distinctly remember saying "I cannot get drunk tonight, I have an important breakfast meeting tomorrow morning." Right, fine. Normally I'm pretty good at going out and having one or two beers. I was doing fine until around... 10:30 or so.

That is, until the shots. And they weren't just any shots, they were "lady shots". What does that mean, you ask? Well I don't have a damn clue, because the bartender just presented them to us. I vaguely remember the taste of some sort of citrus juice. Pineapple? Grapefruit maybe? Who knows. Does it even matter?

While tur(d) was off talking about religion with another bar patron, Chanz and I had made friends with two older gentleman from Chahlestown. Joe and Matty. And boy did they LOVE us. Chanz buddied up with Joe, who insisted on calling me Jean. ALL NIGHT. My friend, Matty, a bald 39 year old who works for a software company in Burlington, was wearing Vineyard Vines shorts with loafers. He was amusing and told me that I had a beautiful face and gorgeous dimples. That would have been sweet if, you know, I actually had dimples. Which I don't, for the record. I found out a lot about his life. That he regrets some of his past relationship and is looking for a younger woman to have his children. Hint hint, nudge nudge. Thanks, but no thanks Matty. And luckily there was another "lady shot" to ease that round of awkwardness.

The night should have ended at last call, after Joe and Matty tried to convince us to go back to Charlestown for an after hours party and that they could call cars for us in the morning to get to work. Thanks, but no thanks guys. While walking back to tur(d)'s car, they drove by us in a Porsche and Matty screamed "JESSIE I LOVE YOU! CAALLLL MEEE!".

Yep, I'm gonna get right on that.

After that we basically HAD to have some food, and found ourselves at the drive-thru at McDonalds. What followed was akin to an awful Abbott and Costello skit (I have made this reference too many times in the last week, but whatever). Here's where the language difference between us and the cashier became a huge problem.

We asked for a #4 with root beer and he kept repeating "A #3 with what?". Yelling ensued.

We asked for a double cheeseburger. They said it didn't exist. Oh you mean a quarter pounder with cheese isn't weirdly similar to a double cheeseburger? More yelling.

We asked for a chicken nugget happy meal. They said they didn't serve it. They have nuggets. They have fries. Pretty sure that those are the basic components of a freaking happy meal. Even more yelling.

So yesterday morning I managed to pull myself together and erase the traces of drunken mess from last night. I'm at my breakfast meeting and it's going fine. Until I spill an entire carafe of cream all over the table. They had to move us to another table because it managed to seep through the table cloth. Faaantastic. When I got home I looked in the mirror and saw that not only had I not managed ot remove all of the blue eyeliner that I was wearing last night, but that I had deoderant all over my dress.

Really? Is this my life? The answer is fortunately, and unfortunately, YES.


Nik said...

the drinking gods have frowned upon you my child

hahahahahahaaaaaaa! Nice!


Unknown said...

they often do Nik, they often do.

Monica said...

fortunately and unfortunately haha

i have had far to many nights like this (especially recently)