Yvonne's Birthday: Drunk Bitches UNITE!

Yvonne's birthday was coming up, and she had chosen me to plan a night out with the girls. I had planned dinner at the Cheesecake Factory followed by hitting a couple of bars, but Martha (being the alpha-bitch of the group) decided to take over without consulting anybody. My toes were quite trod upon, but Yvonne seemed satisfied with the plans so I didn't make an issue out of it. I did, however, claim "I told you so rights" by making it clear to the group that I would be the first to complain if Martha fucked it up.

Martha arranged for Yvonne's brother to cart us around town in his father's Suburban so 8 of us girls could drink to our heart's content. Then we were to have dinner at the Cheesecake Factory (not the one I had planned on going to, but another one that is in a more metropolitan area), and then go to a bar in the city where another friend works (hence she had offered to get our names on the VIP list). We all had a few plastic cups full of "magic punch" (no idea what was in it, but it was magic enough to cause my fall from the running board of the truck) and piled into the 'burban for a night of drunken debauchery on the town.

The token chubby girl in blue is me.

After several phone calls for directions (party planner hadn't thought to mapquest the route to the Cheesecake Factory, fuck-up #1), we found our way into the city and into a parking garage. After driving around for 15 minutes, it became clear that parking would be a challenge. My small-bladdered comrades made an executive decision to ditch Yvonne's brother and make a run for the bathroom.

K: "We're leaving Mikey?"
Y: "Yeah, let's go."
K: "That's not really very nice..."
M: "I HAVE TO TINKLE! LET'S GO K!"
K: "Um, alright...but I am going on record as saying that this is really shitty..."
M: "MOVE YOUR ASS!"
K: *sigh*

We told our downtrodden chaffeur to meet us there and tore down the aisle toward the ladies' room. We actually got stuck shoulder-to-shoulder in the door, just like in a cartoon. We relieved ourselves (Hazel peed for a solid 60 seconds, it was quite impressive) and found our way to the Cheesecake Factory, where we were greeted by a 3 hour wait (fuck-up #2, going to the busiest Cheesecake Factory in New England). After a unanimous decision of "fuck THIS," we walked down the street and found an Applebee's. Classy shit, nothing but the best for our Yvonne. 9 seats miraculously opened up at the bar, so we plunked ourselves down and took the place over. It was at this point that Mikey finally caught up with us. Poor bastard finally found a space in another parking garage after half an hour of driving around. We could almost see the steam pouring from his ears. Dinner, drinks (2 Long Island Iced Teas for me), and 2 more trips to the powder room and we were off again.

We had to take public transportation to get to our next destination, which is always a colorful experience in itself. Graffiti is indeed the voice of the people, and I found some in the unlikeliest of spots: between Yvonne's legs.


I got a few funny looks when I yelled "HEY YVONNE! SPREAD YOUR LEGS!"

Upon arrival, we informed the bouncer of our VIP status, and were introduced to the concept of the "VIP line". Apparently, we weren't important enough to blow off the fire code, and had to wait until enough people left for the club to accomodate us. Upon entrance, Busty Bartender (friend of Yvonne) had something called a "Chocolate Cake" shot waiting for us. A Chocolate Cake is 1/2 oz Frangelico® hazelnut liqueur, 1/2 oz vodka and a sugar coated lemon, and is effective if you're looking for a puckered-up faced followed by an immediate buzz. Drinks in hand (another Long Island for me), it was time to party.

2 shots and 2 more drinks later, Yvonne decided she was drunk enough to bust out the "Love Guns". This is a running joke. At a local bar, there is this well-built male bartender who does a little cowboy dance for the ladies that has been dubbed the "Love Guns" dance. There were some present who weren't privy to the joke, so Yvonne did the responsible thing and demonstrated.

In this shot, you can also one of the colored whistles we were all sporting. We brought these along to increase our group's level of obnoxiousness.





Afterwards, she attempted to sit and fell right off of her stool:















This is my fourth Long Island Iced Tea. And yes, that is my hairclip. No, I have no idea how it got in there, and I think it must have been a few sips before I realized.














An additional shot convinced me to comply when Yvonne yelled "HEY K! SHOW ME YOUR TITS!" (notice the bling.)






Things really got interesting when we suddenly became enamored with each other's breasts:


"Hey, how come SHE gets her boobs grabbed??? What's wrong with MY BOOBS?!"

Equal opportunity boob-grabbing abounded:


By 1:15, we were well past shit-faced, and made the executive decision to head home. We all pig-piled into one cab, and were reveling in the hilarity of the situation when someone more sober than me made a horrifying discovery:

"WHERE'S DEANNA?"

We started screaming at the cabbie to go back. ( I count this as fuck-up #3: not taking a head count, but this was really all of our faults. We're shitty friends. But in our defense, Martha was most sober, and had a responsibility as party planner to account for everyone.)

Us: "GO BACK! WE LEFT OUR FRIEND!"
Cabbie: "She can find her own cab."
K: "EXCUSE ME??? Don't you work for US???"
Cabbie: [ignores me]
K: "HELLOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

I started trying to dig my way out from the bottom of the pile to give him a piece of my drunken mind through the hole in the bulletproof glass, but by the time I freed myself we were already at the parking garage, so I had to be satisfied with screaming obscenities at the back of a cab as it screeched away. While I had my episode, 5 cell phones were frantically dialing Deanna, who was not answering her phone. We also discovered another problem; nobody knew how to get back to the bar, since we had taken public transportation to get there (fuck-up #4; not having some kind of map), so we drove around like assholes for a solid half an hour before we found our way back.

We pulled up to the bar and somehow decided that I was the most functional out of the 8 of us (and that Martha was the most lazy), and that I should go in to fetch Deanna. As I was exiting, I forgot that I was 3 feet off the ground and fell out of the truck. I stumbled up to the bouncer and told him my sad story.

K: "We forgot our friend inside."
B: "Uh huh."
K: "I need to go back in."
B: "$5 cover charge."
K: "Dude, I'm just going 6 feet inside. It's almost 2am. Do you really think I'm trying to scam you out of your cover charge?"
B: [stares at me]
K: "Jesus Christ, you can come with me if you want. 2 minutes."
B: [reluctantly lets me in. what a hero.]

I walked in just in time to see Busty Bartender dancing on the bar to "Pour Some Sugar on Me." Needless to say, I was slightly sidetracked, hypnotized by the bounce, but the daggers coming from the eyes of the bouncer brought me back to the task at hand: search and rescue. I found Deanna at the bar, drunkenly making out with some random guy. I dragged her outside and found that she was unable to find her way up to the running board, so I had to grab her ass and physically stuff her into the Suburban.

On the way home, we screamed the words to Fleetwood Mac.

"AND IF YOU DON'T LOVE ME NOW, YOU WILL NEVER LOOOOOOVE ME AGAIN! [melodic, unintelligible drunken babbling] NEVER BREAK THE CHAAAAAAAIN..."

"YOU CAN GO YOUR OWN WAAAAAAAYYYYY....YOU CAN...uh...LALALALAAAAAAAAAAAAA....A LONELY DAAAAAYYYY....."

On my way out of the truck, I fell...again...it had become a running joke at that point. I collapsed into bed at 3am and woke up in the morning with my shirt wrapped around my neck. I guess I passed out before I got it all of the way off.

The next morning, I had to be up at 7:30 to go to the flea market with my grandmother. Sounds hellish, I know, but preferable to dealing with 3 small children while hung over. I think I might have still been a little drunk at that point, but I earned myself a few points toward my spot in heaven by taking grandma bargain hunting in that condition.

I don't think I've ever been so polluted. I've sworn off drinking. Well, at least until next weekend. Oh who the fuck am I kidding, I have three kids, I probably won't drink again for months.