Just Looking for a Good Time
I’m a loser. I posted a post about everyone doing Blog Secret and then I failed to get my submission in on time. Ooops. It’s been busy around here. One of my besties, Beth, had her sweet little baby girl Amelia, and on top of that I had a crazy weekend.
Friday I was convinced I was going to do nothing–I was convinced I was going to stay in and do some work while watching tv and cozying up to a bottle of red. As I stopped at the office to pick up my projects, I got a call from the roomie/bestie. She and her BF decided that we were going to go back to his place (a small town about an hour from here) and go out–we were going to pick up his friend in Des Moines along the way. Okay, why not.
Well, we end up at a bar called the Rusty Duck in this tiny tiny Iowa town of less than a thousand people (689 people according to the 2000 census–yes, I googled that shit). Anyway, this bar is great–within the first five minutes I had been introduced to like 10 people and hugged twice by two old ladies whom I had never met before who continued to tell me that I was “just a baby.”
Sara and I started out drinking beer, but as the yawning came in to play, it was determined that vodka redbulls would bring on our second winds–and they did. And they kept flowing. For about 5 or 6 hours they kept flowing. And we weren’t drinking slowly.
So, Roomie’s BF’s friend is hot. This I established earlier in the evening–it wasn’t one of those beer goggle attractions.
We leave the bar at about 2 AM after 200 dollars worth of drinks/appetizers, and lots of karaoke including but not limited to: NKOTB The Right Stuff, Touch Myself, and Man I Feel Like a Woman–heavens no, I did not sing–we allowed Roomie’s BF to do all the serenading. We make it back to Roomie’s BF’s house. Roomie falls off a stool at one point. We eat toast and ham sandwiches. We continue drinking. We decide it’s time for bed. Roomie’s BF has his bedroom and his extra bedroom. I crawl in to extra bedroom bed. Am followed by hottie friend. Have great mash session. Pass out.
Regale my sister with this story the next day–she says, “Do you think you’ll ever see him again?” I say, “I doubt it, but have you heard that Lady Antebellum song–Just Looking for a Good Time?” She says, “Yes,” I say, “I’m thinking that’s how I’m going to live for a little while.” She’s silent. I say, “Do you think that’s wrong?” She says, “A little disturbing, but no, not wrong.”
I must have still been drunk when I told her this, because the truth is, that is so NOT how I plan on conducting myself. I need to stay away from the vodka. That little bastard steals my inhibitions every time I hang out with him.
But, I mean really I’m 23–I deserve a random mash session every once in a while, right??