Last night I went out with my mother-in-law, some of her friends, and other family for a girls' night out and for my birthday. It was a rowdy bunch, and they had already told the waitress about my birthday before I ever got there. So of course, I had to be thoroughly embarrassed by the entire wait staff of Joe's Crab Shack when they sang Happy Birthday to me while I wore a coconut bra and plastic grass skirt. (I was really embarassed though and was genuinely disappointed when MIL didn't bring her camera to capture the moment.) My coconuts were a little high though, and even though I complain about sagging, I don't ever want my breasts to be as high as those coconuts were.
Mike, the manager, got to know us pretty well and played along when one of the women told him all ten of us were virgins. Why they came up with that, I don't know, but he seemed to like it. He joked about going home with all of us and made a list of things he would need, including a medical assistant, bottle of Jack Daniels, oxygen tank, and an excuse for when his wife called. He even unscrewed a picture of some old fisherman from the wall for us to take home as a keepsake along with a big plastic crab that was stuck in shirts, hair, and pant pockets for the rest of the night. It was also compared to my FIL's scrotum, which was something I really would have rather not heard. MIL has just a little bitterness brewing, I think.
Mike got some sand for me to spread on my seat, since I'm not spending my birthday at the beach this year. The man went all out, including sending a lovely young boy to dance by our table when the wait staff did their little dance numbers. We love Mike.
Next, we went to watch the fountains that are coordinated with music, but it was starting to rain, and there was lightning, so we didn't stay long. We went across the way to Bar Louie, aka Your Typical Meat Market. Almost immediately, a couple of men at the next table descended upon us. I think there were a whole two and a half (the half being my MIL who is separated) of us that were single, but we all played along and enjoyed the attention. I don't know how in the world I became so damn attractive after getting married and not wanting other men anymore. So that's the secret, single gals. You must not want the men, and they will flock to you.
The one guy had a brother, a handsome bald guy (have I ever mentioned I have a thing for handsome bald guys?) who lives in, get this, Omaha. I know, I couldn't believe it myself. He was visiting for the extended weekend. Naturally, he hadn't come by us, opting to stay at his own table with a couple other guys and a nice young lady. I had to go talk to him, because how often do you run into someone who lives in Omaha when you're in Pittsburgh? Not often, I say. It's not like I had anything much to say to the guy, but I'm a friendly girl, and we Nebraska folk, natives or otherwise, have to stick together. Go Huskers!
Our group got tired of the Meat Market scene and decided to move on. We went across another street (the renovated Station Square rocks) in search of other bartenders to annoy when a young man came up to us (See? We were absolute magnets!) and said there was no cover at such-and-such bar where Chismo was playing the blues. Chismo sang the most awesome happy birthday song to me while I drank my second appletini of the night on top of a couple glasses of wine I had at the Crab Shack. I was feeling good and didn't mind one bit that a guy by the name of Chismo kissed me on the cheek after singing me a bluesy birthday tune. He used my name and everything. I am, like, famous now.
Speaking of kissing, I once saw a patient from work when I was on my lunch break at the coffee shop in the connected hospital. I said hello, and she seemed unusually excited to see me, said she felt much better, hugged me, and planted a smooch right on my cheek. Now while it is most flattering that a patient thinks so highly of my boss and myself, I'm not much on being kissed by a not-quite-stranger. Unless it's my birthday (or close enough), and your name is Chismo.
It wasn't long before everyone was getting tired and peeling away to go home. I couldn't go home for a while yet though, because I was too liquored up. Did I say I had two glasses of wine? We had a bottle, and they kept refilling my glass, so God only knows how much I really drank. Vodka nails my ass to the wall every time too, so I was suffering mightily by the end of our night. I was driving MIL home too, but she didn't mind sitting in the car with me and bitching endlessly about FIL while I sobered up. I said quite a few things with my alcohol-loosened tongue for a while, and by the time there was no more alcohol to blame, I figured what the hell, might as well say what's on my mind. I supported her strength in staying away from the whiney bastard and provided lots of "hell-yeahs" and "fucking assholes" as she spouted venom and pain.
About an hour and a half later, I performed sobriety tests on myself and was ready to drive home. I'm nothing if not responsible about drunken driving. I'll be doing none of that. My kids like having a mommy, and I'm sure other people like the ones I'd be killing if I were to drive drunk. Had I been thinking, I'd have taken the bus into town and got a cab home, but I'm just stupid sometimes. If I weren't such a respectable, responsible woman though, I would have likely been busted by one of the at least four cops we saw pulling people over on the way home.
I took off my brand new, cuter than cute, four inch heel shoes and everything else I was wearing and crawled into bed as soon as I got home. I don't think it was even 1 AM yet, but I'm not used to being up so late, and drinking to boot. I woke up sometime around 6 AM, feeling like a shriveled up raisin, but I didn't get my parched ass out of bed because I was still tired. So I tried to keep sleeping until my stupid alarm went off because I forgot to push the off button the morning before. John said I kicked him, which very well might be because that alarm scared me. I wasn't expecting it on a Saturday morning, and somehow I knew very well it was a Saturday morning. Had I had any water left in my body, I might very well have wet myself, so there are advantages to dehydration.
I figured the alarm was a sign, and I better get up and drink some water. I visited the bathroom too and found out that all the water was hiding in my bladder, waiting to depart. Why is it that sometimes, you feel like you are going to just burst, but when you sit down to go, you pee about two tablespoons, but then other times, you feel like you could go, but you really don't have to, and when you do, you pee a gallon? I just don't get it. Anyway, once I completed the hydration cycle, I plopped back in bed.
You know I couldn't sleep. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, do I ever just get up at 6:20 AM and feel fine? Hell, no. But Saturday, after being out late and drinking, I feel like I couldn't even shut my eyes, much less sleep. I stayed in bed for another two hours though and somehow dozed a couple times.
I felt pretty crapalicious most of the morning and early afternoon, despite drinking water, eating, and lying in bed reading. I feel much better now and don't regret my night out at all. I just thank God I wasn't running today, because it simply wouldn't have happened. I hiked instead, and it was grand. Now John and I are going to see Matrix: Reloaded all by ourselves. This is turning out to be a pretty good birthday weekend. I'm rather dreading the actual day, because our family has a bad pattern of people dying on our birthdays. I haven't had a Grandma update in a couple days. I thought I'd call her on my birthday, because that would be a good present to talk to her.
I have to get ready, and the kids and John are yelling at me to get done, so I really must go.
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One Year Ago Today:
Nothing at all
