After two Fridays ago, my drinking-while-partying has been tame. I�ve had a couple mixed drinks here and there to aid in the late-night dancing. Not a big deal.

But with Lorinda and Brian�s encouragement, I got back on �the horse� with a shot of something blue, four Miller Lights, and three Citronas.

I started the night sipping Gatorade and rum with my friend Jeffy, catching up over our past few weeks. You probably imagine us doing this in a drugstore parking lot or on a park bench, but NOOO. We were at one of the four Starbucks within walking distance from my house, him sipping $4 coffee and me sweetening $2 iced tea with the packet of pink aspartame.

I don�t know many people in my neighborhood who have drank boozed-up Gatorade in the middle of the coffeehouse. As I am already regarded as �the girl who walks her cat,� �the neighborhood party girl,� and �girl on wheels,� I do not need to add �such a lush that she drinks smuggled booze while at Starbucks� to the list.

After getting in sufficient catch-up time with Jeffy, I had to run up to this bar to meet Lorinda and Brian. Similar to Coyote Ugly, this place teases men and encourages beer drinking and bartop dancing.

Lorinda and I were waiting for �Pour Some Sugar on Me� before hopping up there, but it was never played. However, I did have my first experience with a mechanical bull.

I signed an unread waiver, kicked off my shoes, handed my cell phone to Brian, and stole some guy�s cowboy hat. The bull controller announced that I was the last rider of the night and gave me a boost onto the bull. I used an under-hand grip and gave it a pretty good ride.

When the speed increased, I used my free hand to flail the stolen cowboy hat, as only a real Texan would know to do. Perhaps it was the liquid courage, or perhaps the controller was just being nice to me, but I think I may have found a new calling in life.

Screw the documentation consulting... I should be a cowboy.

...with pink boots and a sparkly tank top, of course!

When I finished my ride, everyone was pushed out the door and we all went our separate ways to our respective homes. .
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Yeah friggin� right.

Of course we ended up at the Hangge Uppe for another two hours! Come on now -- Don�t be silly!

I gave a round of high-fives to the door guys, walking in without so much as flashing a smile nonetheless any qualifying identification.

One funny Hangge Uppe moment: I approached the DJ and said, �Mama-say-mama-saa-moo-mock-oo-sa.�

He shook his head no. �No more Michael Jackson tonight.�

Me: �How about some Justin Timberlake then?�

[grin] You can�t say that I don�t have a sense of humor. �