you can take the girl out of the party, but you can't take the party out of the girl

Last night was the do-over birthday. All I have to say is, god damn. God damn, but if only we could have do-overs on more things. Wouldn't that be awesome? I mean, remember as a kid when you did something wrong, or didn't hit the ball...anywhere, or when you went to kick the ball and your foot simply went over the ball? Man, you got a do-over. After last night I think I'm going to have more do-overs in my life. Even if something doesn't really need or deserve one, I'm totally going for it.

The night started out awesome. Which, considering I wasn't crying, being yelled at for something I didn't even do, or driving home in tears and falling asleep in tears, really how bad could the night have been? Anyway. The peeps from work took me to one of my favorite places. The bought me dinner and drinks and we had a lovely time. There was and is a torrential rain storm happening so I didn't drink all that much as I have enough trouble seeing at night in a torrential rainstorm without adding drunk to list. Oh, no. Waited until I was closer to home before I added drunk to the list.

I stopped at a new little bar close to home. There was a band...or rather a singer, doing cheesy covers and essentially making fun of himself (good times) and the bartender decided I was going to be his main source of conversation and entertainment for the night, thus he liquored me up quite nicely. Ah, lovely.

Very shortly into the night he asked if I would do a shot with him. Yeah. Twiiiiisssst the arm. Ow. Sure. "Jager, please." I knew I was in from that point on. Men are so easy. Or perhaps saying, "Jager" simply means, "...this girl can party and drink and I'm going to have fun with her..." Or perhaps it means, "Sweet! I'm not going to have to spend that much money after all getting her drunk..." silly. Simply, silly. Anywho. So we chatted and then a gay came up and told me I needed to join him and his friends. I passed. I mean, I was getting free drinks and more importantly, free shots. My ass wasn't going anywhere.

One shot was called: sex with (whatever the bartender's name was) when he asked if I wanted to know why, he said: "because it's more than a mouth full and it takes your breath away.."......aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand game on. More shots. More beer. The gays came after me and pretty much kidnap me to their table. Oh.MY.God. so much fun. Enough laughter to the point that I don't think I will need to do a sit-up for months my stomach hurt so bad. And they also plied me with free alcohol all night. We decided I will be joining them every Tuesday night from now on. They leave, I'm back to the bar. More shots, more beer. He made four shots, but only three people drank any, therefore I got two of them (was it my night or what?) Apparently this one was called: fuck me harder. Since I did two of them, of course my response was: "so I guess I get to fuck you harder, twice." Annnnnnnnnnnnnnd she's back ladies and gents. So yes, all-in-all the night was a good success. Home at 1:00, up at 6:19, to work 15 minutes late. Feeling awesome. See, all I needed was a night of laughter, flirting that leads to nowhere, and lots, and lots of free drinks. It's that simple. All a party girl needs is a good time party.

There was one slight Debbie Downer moment: one of the gays asked something about getting laid and if I was seeing someone. I replied, he is leaving for London tomorrow (meaning today)..to which they asked, "so how long is he there?" "Oh, that'd be, forever. Yeah. He's gone, forever." I'm not going to lie. They got a little forklempt. I, did not. For that, I am thankful. Yes, PG, life does go on. Even if I don't want it to, it does.