T h e A d v e n t u r e s o f C h i c a g o J o
Freaky Friday, Slowed-down Saturday, Spaztastic Sunday
|2006-03-06 – 2:12 p.m.|
You know in Office Space how that annoying lady always comments that someone has a case of the Mondays? What I can’t stand is when someone comes back from vacation and says, “I need a vacation to recover from vacation!”
I’ll spare the eye-rolling and the groaning and avoid saying that I need a weekend to recover from my weekend. But, yeah. I’m beat.
Friday night was my friend Happy’s b-day party. We started off at her house for dinner, and then we ventured to a neighborhood bar as our first real stop for the night. People trickled in, beers were consumed in excess, and then we headed to the second spot.
At the second spot I crawled under a table so everyone wouldn’t have to get up to let me out of the booth’s far end, and I got gum in my hair. Anyone who has read for a while knows that I don’t like gum. Why someone would stick gum under a table instead of disposing it in a used beer bottle is beyond me.
I picked at it all night, but I ended up having to cut it out of my hair the next morning.
Speaking of the next morning, I’m convinced that I have ghosts. This is the second time something odd has happened in Hambone’s bathroom (yes, my cat has his own bathroom). The first time I assumed it was something goofy done because I was drunk, but after what happened on Friday night, I have very good reasons why what’s happened in there could not have been the work of my drunken self. It’s spooky.
So spooky that I didn’t drink the next night.
Well, one beer. And two shots. So we’ll revise that above statement and say that I didn’t buy any drinks.
Three drinks in more than that many hours. Whatever.
I started the night at my friend Oz’ place. I love his friends so much that I ended up skipping the second party I was scheduled to attend. The conversation is always great with these people, and I enjoyed myself a lot. When it got good and late, we all went our separate directions.
A text message later, and I had my second destination picked out. A few girlfriends and I hung out at this place, laughing at the 21-year-olds who kept giving one friend the eye.
Note to all 21-year-olds looking to pick up someone at a bar: Try for another 21-year-old. Most 25+ women won’t even look at you. And if they are, they’re laughing that you because you immediately walked into the bar and ordered shots. We used to do that too. Now we drink ourselves silly with tasty microbrews or top-shelf liquor all night because we like to go home and sleep, not puke on one’s roommate’s bath rug.
The next morning I woke up at 8:30 and caught up with a few friends on the weekend’s activities. I knew I had a busy day, so I stayed in bed for as long as possible to catch some cat naps before rushing off to the chorus fundraiser.
Being part of a g@y m3n’s chorus, of course I didn’t go around selling raffle tickets in a t-shirt advertising the chorus.
Noooo. Instead I was a woman pretending to be a man who was pretending to be a woman, a la Felicity Huffman (but with a lot of flair).
In sum, it was me dressed as a drag queen. Between the scandalous outfit, the teased hot pink wig, the ridiculous amount of makeup, and the oh-so-fabulous false eye lashes, did I have fun! The event was a great success, and everyone else seemed to have a good time too. I barely even noticed that my tush was hanging out in front of hundreds of people.
Today I’m absolutely dragging ass, but I need to be up and at ‘em for tonight’s ukulele class. I’m sure it won’t be a problem once I start laughing about the ridiculousness of my ukulele playing.
Happy Monday, all. Hope you don’t have a case of it.