Honestly, though, I wasn't sure where the night was going to take us on Saturday, and I think the words 'quiet evening' might have even come out of my mouth at some point, but by the time I made it out on the town, nothing could be further from the truth.
We started at The Drum for a few pre-drinks.
I'm all about drinks and general chit-chat, but do you know what I like even better? Drinks and dancing. Holy moly, everyone was on fire that night.
This guy half-assed it five billion times more than I did, so I didn't feel so bad.
I didn't want to go out without a costume, but nobody else was dressing up. So I just took all of the raddest Puerto-Rican gangsta bitch gear from my closet (I try to throw a little bit of 'Rican in most of my outfits) and put it all together into one ghetto-fabulous outfit. Essentially, I turned up the sass on my regular clothes by about 36%. A girl high-fived me for my "costume"... I didn't have the heart to tell her that these are just my regular clothes.
You know that trouble is a-brewin when it takes us forty-eight tries to get a decent group photo of the girls. This was one of the least successful of the bunch.
I wore out the fanny pack especially for Breanne, it seems to keep the good times coming. Matching!
Everytime I think I have some pretty decent moves, Chris shows up and sweeps the floor with my dreams.
Bree and I snuck over to Amsterdam Rhino to see John and Alana. We threw it down to Gasolina and took some photos in the bathroom and maybe we should have quit drinking at that point.
Sike! Back to Broken City, where I proceeded to spill the entire bar on my shirt.
...Over to Stardust, where, just like Cheers, everybody knows your name. Or maybe not. What is going on here again?
Anyway, I feel pretty good now (didn't feel so good Sunday morning, but a little activity and some Wendy's took care of that). Thanks, Saturday.
~sarah p.
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