Mission: Accomplished

On Saturday, as I passed a glass of water to my friend Maren under the bathroom stall door at Lodge Bar, I knew that we had succeeded. Succeeded in having an amazing night, that is. (Fear not, she was not seriously ill...all the dancing got her a little worked up and she started to feel queasy, that's all. Happens to the best of us.)

It had been a long time since Margo, my wild college alter-ego, had shown her face 'round these parts and she was itching to come out. Do you ever get together with your friends on a Saturday night, and someone says, "You know, it's been a while since we really went balls-to-the-wall," then everyone gets a twinkle in their eye, smiles slyly, and pours a little more rum in their diet coke? Well, that was Saturday night for my friends and me.

The weekend started off as harmless as any other. As I pulled into the driveway after work on Friday, I was worn out and ready to kick back and relax. The regular crew got together and we made homemade pizzas for dinner, which were amazing and left me in a happy food coma. We played rousing games of Apples to Apples and Catch Phrase until I started to fall asleep on the couch. I was exhausted...though I'm sure all of that sangria did not do anything to help my already-heavy eyelids.

Saturday was deliciously lazy. I slept in, then dozed in my favorite sunny armchair while catching up on my guilty DVR pleasure, Ghost Whisperer. I met wonderful Michelle from Michelle & the City for lunch and 27 Dresses, which was absolutely fabulous. James Marsden, consider yourself warned that I now have an unhealthy crush on you. And Michelle, I have a crush on you too. Drinks soon please?

All the girls came over to our place on Saturday night, and that was when we decided that this was it. We were going to go to one of the sketchy bars downtown, and we were going to dance to the live music, forget our cares, and have a darn good time. The excuse, as if we really needed one, was that it was my half birthday. And is there a reason NOT to go balls-to-the-wall when you turn 23 and a half? Um, I think not. The night was fabulous. We wore sequins and short dresses and very high heels. We danced with utter abandon. We drank and chatted up guys while waiting for the bartenders to pour us another round. (I legitimately thought one guy was in the Army until someone pointed out that his hoodie was just camouflage-patterned, and I should really stop asking him what sort of weapons he'd used.) We took some pictures that are probably so bad that they aren't even Facebook-worthy. And when the clock struck 2am, we bought gyros from the vendors out on the street to make the three-block walk home a little easier.

After I left Alex a ten minute garbled voicemail about how yummy and dangerously thrilling it was to eat oatmeal in my bed, how Quaker's Apple Cinnamon was truly God's gift to mankind, and oh right I miss you can you come over? I laid my head on my pillow and thought to myself, "That was one fucking great night."

And now you all think I'm a serious drunkard, but you know what? It's Monday and I don't have the energy to deny it. Think what you will.