Good Lord.
Why so late?
It could have something to do with the fact that I drove down to LA on Saturday night and spent the evening at a couple of fun bars with my sister and friend Mike.
It could have something to do with the fact, that I then drove home next day and got stuck in traffic so slow I saw a snail racing by.
And it could have something to do with the fact that after picking up the kids, feeding them dinner, putting them to bed and cleaning up the kitchen, I fell asleep watching True Blood and ended up dreaming of Eric's abs instead of writing today's post.
Maybe.
But it was a fun weekend. I met some ladies that I normally talk to online in person for dinner. Then...Melissa showed up.
Which meant we had to go see Marilyn and Jane's hand and footprints.
My new shoes thought I could be a star.
Then we went to a pub called Dillon's where the drinks were strong, my water was always refilled and Mike could stare at the short skirts and straining shirts of the bartenders.
Following Dillons, we walked to Loaded, a bar Melissa swore was a dive.
Poor thing. She's so LA, she doesn't even know what a dive is. I expected at least four or five bikers, Bubba behind the counter and bras tacked to the ceiling. Instead, we got hard rock, hipsters, and one of the members of the Electric Barbarellas serving our drinks.
A couple drinks later, I was ready to go home. After berating Mike for his unfortunately small tip (really, dude?) and pressuring him to double it, Missy bought me a shot in appreciation.
We walked back to the valet stand to get our car and passed Danger Dogs every ten feet.
Bacon wrapped hotdogs grilling next to onions, bell peppers and jalapenos.
Oh how I wanted one! The smell wafted around me until my mouth watered and visions of greasy goodness danced in my head.
But I withstood the temptation!
Mostly because I realized, even in my fog, that a hot dog made on a sidewalk with a jimmy rigged hot plate that's being fueled by what looked like a Red Bull can, could be dangerous in more ways than one.
So I went back to Melissa's house where I slept until morning at which time I realized one thing....
I'm too old for this shite.
5 comments:
It is oh so sad when we realize that a night out is painful way longer than it used to be!
Don't sell yourself short. You're never too old to have a good time until you start THINKING you're too old! As long as your responsibilities are covered and your not being an idiot, then you're allowed to go out and have some fun!
Could the shoes have played a part in your pain?
Who am I kidding, I was tired just reading that! Why can't bars be hopping at 8? Because I can rock Electric Avenue, as long at its before my bedtime?
You know I'm kidding right? Wait til you see me do the Tootsie Roll.
Now I'm wondering if this generation will even know the amazing dance moves of our time? And do they have their own?
There, now you've inspired some serious dialogue.
Good for you - and your shoes- for getting out there!
I don't even eat hot dogs but those things always smell amazingly good at 2 a.m. when you're drunk.
You're so funny. And yeah, I came to that conclusion a few years back. I absolutely cannot party til 2, then eat half a pizza to soak up the booze before falling asleep. Not if I want to be alive before 3:00 the following afternoon, that is. :(
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