So those of you who read this from time to time know that my weekends are made up of either clinicals or work. Sometimes, if I am really lucky, I get to have both. Rarely do I get a weekend day off. As a result, rarely do I get to go out because when the normal people (all of us aged 27 and above) go out, I am in bed, preparing to awaken at 5:15 or 5:30, depending on what my weekend entails.
Today, I had a day off. A SATURDAY off. When I found out I had a SATURDAY off in the midst of Thanksgiving weekend, I made plans immediately to get drunk. Sleeping? No. Cleaning? No. Shopping? Not even that. Getting drunk? Sign me up!
Now, my plan was almost messed up because I had to work at the mall until 11:00 PM. And that aged 27 and above set? It’s hard to find someone to go out to a bar at 11:00 PM when they have been home relaxing for some amount of time while you were dealing with Black Friday’s shoppers (a whole different story for a whole different time). However, when your sister is 25 years old and home for the weekend? And willing to drive? And has a new beau who is willing to buy you all the beer you care to drink? It’s time for Operation Rock Star…and it was in effect last night.
I forgot how much fun it is to go to a bar and sit around and drink beer while babbling incoherently about a million different things because you are meeting the aforementioned new beau for the first time so it seems like a good idea to regale him with cute stories of your sister when she was young. Yeah. Also, friends who live in our neighborhood and are at the bar ALL THE TIME (at least on the weekends) are a big help in getting VIP treatment in case you accidently gesture with your hand so sweepingly with your hand that you knock a half-full beer over and then the bartender gives you a brand new FULL beer for FREE! I spent $3.50 last night…and I got my drunk on.
Anyhoo…we closed the place down, gave said friends a ride home, and then I skedaddled so my sister could say goodbye to the beau and also apologize for the diarrhea of the mouth that ensued for me post beer #4. Luckily, he thought I was funny and didn’t feel any urge to run screaming away from any part of the Thomas clan. I happened to find myself witty and amusing…but you never know how that will go over with anyone else.
Here’s the sum total of the evening:
Beers bought – 1
Beers consumed – 7.5
Beers knocked over – 0.5
Embarrassing sister stories told – 3
Embarrassing Mary stories told – more than 3 (I do dumber stuff than she does.)
Dollars spent – $3.50
Bars closed down – 1
Cigarettes smoked – 1 (oops)
Rock stars reborn – MEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!
I wouldn’t want to do that every night, but man, it was fun while it lasted.