Just one pitcher of beer…

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It’s no secret I’m 30.  And I like to go out because I definitely don’t act my age.  I get mistaken for 25 often and I’m ok with that.  This particular Friday night did not disappoint.  It started out low key at a Scentsy party where we finished off 3 bottles of merlot.  Yes, I am a professional wine drinker.  My BFFL and I had the brilliant idea of going to our local Cheers for “one pitcher of beer”.  Somehow that never seems to happen but it sounds good.

After dropping off her daughter we proceed to the local watering hole where everyone knows my name because I have a habit of leaving my debit card there.  We were successful in purchasing one pitcher.  However, we consumed about 3.  All of a sudden I realize we have a crowd of men around us.  This is probably due to how loud we are and how much fun we are having all by ourselves.  Finally, its last call.  This does not mean my night is over, after all I am 25 with plenty of partying left in me.

My place seems to be the meeting place for all of my friends.  This night was no different.  After making new friends in the drive through of McDonald’s, we were back at my place.  Let me back up for a second.  I quit smoking in May which was huge for me because I was a diehard Camel smoker.  My friends unfortunately still smoke.  In my BFFL’s attempt to sneak outside to light up, my devilish cat decides to make a run for it.  He does this often but it’s no problem because he only runs up the stairs outside.  I’ve already taken my shoes off at this point so I quickly go after him, shutting my door in the process so that the other cat (I know, I’m the cat lady) doesn’t decided to make a run for it also.  Ok, got Henry (jerk face).  Now, where is that McDonald’s?  I’m craving greasy nasty food.

With the crazy bastard of a cat in my arms, I go back to my door.  Turn the knob.  Nope.  Locked. LOCKED!  The handle is locked!  I never lock my handle, I always use the dead bolt.  I look at my BFFL who is happily smoking away.  She locked the damn handle.  I am now barefoot, holding a cat, standing in front of my building and starving.  It is currently 2:50 am.  Let’s call my mother!  Yes, brilliant!  Because she won’t freak out at the phone ringing at this hour.  (Background info – my older sister is days away from her due date so my mother is on pins and needles waiting for her to go into labor.)  In short, my mother tells my BFFL to take me to her house for the night and we’ll deal with it in the morning.  (This is all hearsay because I am in full blackout at this point.)

In the morning I wake up wearing only my bra and panties.  I look around.  Where am I?  I have never seen this room before in my life.  Oh my God.  What have I done now?  How did I get here?  When did I leave the bar?  Where the hell am I?  As I sit up in this queen sized bed of mystery, I see Henry.  Ok, I feel like I survived The Hangover.  I am lost but I have my crazy cat with me.  I hear a voice in the distance that sounds familiar.  It’s my BFFL’s mother.  Oh THANK GOD!  My phone.  Where is my life line?  I struggle to put my jeans and top back on.  While making my way to my BFFL’s room, I am realizing I am still intoxicated.  Seriously?  That hasn’t happened in a long time.  What did I drink?

That next day I was still drunk until 2 pm.  Henry and I made it safely back inside my place with minimal judgment from my mother.  Just another Friday night 🙂

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