the night that should have its own chapter in my book

Up until about 8pm yesterday, I had a regular ol’ awesome Friday. And things got a little more awesome.

I drove over to Cindi’s, because she was giving me a How to Ride the Bus lesson. There have been a few times when a bus would have been option, but I know nothing about catching, riding, or whatever on them. I’m a suburb girl. I drive or I take the train. But I wanted to learn.

Cindi and I had no problem making new boyfriends on the bus and we eventually got to Nye’s, where we met up with Jenni (who’d gotten a head start on us from a work happy hour) and Jumi. We were having a grand ol’ time doing our girls thing like we do all the time. That’s when things started to get bizarre.

If I would have had one more drink in me (and I’d only had two at this point), it’s safe to assume I may have had a few broken bones today. But when a drunk dude relentlessly fucks with one of your girls, I guess that’s bound to happen. Ol’ Boy, whose name was Brad and he rode a stupid-looking black bicycle, would just not back off. I asked him politely twice to leave her alone, and the next thing I know, he’s standing with his face less than a foot from mine telling me not to tell him what to do. Fight or flight? I chose option 3 – tell the bartender who’s old enough to be my grandpa and abandons the bar to go find some bouncers. The idiots left before they were forced to leave and that was the end of the adventure there.

Then, Cindi and I went to the 90’s. We watched part of the drag show, did some important texting, and then went to the Retro Bar to invite My Bartender™ to the 612.5 Party.

Hey, look at these qualities: awesome hair, baggy jeans, appreciates good booze, has to listen to sometimes horrible retro club music for hours upon hours while at work, and no ass, which is kinda funny, but also kinda hot. But as it turns out the ring that makes rare appearances is allegedly a wedding ring. Okay, it probably is, but I’m denial because, well, you’d know why if you knew who I was talking about. It’s also necessary to tell you I broke the top off a bar stool last night because I was DRUNK ON LOVE.

We went downstairs and ended up meeting a 21 year old gay boy (who is totally one of my MySpace friends now) and his straight friend. We danced with them for a while, took them to Sex World, and then left them to their own according while we hopped in a cab.

What's up?