The Party Life Comes Full Circle

Oh excitement. First of all, let me just say that I have been trying to be a good girl, stop the crazy, unpredictable nights that roll right into the early hours of the morning. However, a leopard can't change her spots, she can only pretend they aren't there. So, after a couple weeks' break from the nightlife, I jumped back in. Shananagans ensued.

Once upon a time....

I met Kayla up at Mama Fu's where I hopped in her car and we were off. We arrived at Lux at 9:30 and apparently were too early, because retarded clubs like that one don't open until 10 apparently. So we waited it out at The Brix where we talked about Kayla's new love interest Alex. Who, incidentally, I approve of without meeting him, because after all the crap with Robert, well, she needs someone else and he seems decent, but then again, I heard of him from a biased source. I was shamelessly hit on by the bartender who must have been at least 30, and of course I enjoyed that. Ah, this is the single life at it's best. Not to mention my favorite beer, Stella, was on $2 special. It was like I was destined to go the Brix. tehe. Anyhoo, we head back to Lux where the drinks are free. Splite Tone ends up not being there. What in the who??? But the drinks are endless and there is a beer pong tournament going on and bunches of ridiculous looking people to make fun of (we are so bad) so we stay for good amount of time. By the by, you cannot wrap a hot pink headscarf around your ass and call it a skirt. I know we're in a recession, but come on. Being a hooker doesn't earn you extra money unless you actually work in a strip club, button.
Around 1am, we decide that the Ritz is calling our name and this is when the fun really starts. We arrive, flirt with the bouncer (hey it's tradition) and find that everyone out on a random tuesday is at the ritz. Excellent. They have a DJ spinning the top 40 hits (of course) and a few people are dancing. I join them, and revel in being the drunk dancing girl without a care in the world. Before we know it, both Kayla and I are being danced upon by two very tall, skinny guys, who were attractive for all of five seconds. However, they are fun and if they try to pull a "what's your number" sort of business, we'll just bolt. So we dance, get our drinks paid for (did I mention I love being a girl) and chat. While outside I point out that they are both wearing their baseball caps backwards and ask if I missed the memo saying that that was back in style. I pretty much implied that they looked ridiculous. Which they did and they were annoying me now. Kayla's guy was worse then mine putting his arm around her and having his face mere milimeters away from hers. I half expected him to literally drool on her. Whereas my guy tried to be smoother and rely on his conversation. A good tactic if you're a conversationalist, which cupcake, you are not.
Now, in these sorts of situations, Kayla and I have a very complex, specialized code system. It is as follows:

Pop Tart- def. -when you are into the random guy hitting on you.
Tapioca- def. -you need to be rescued from the random guy hitting on you.

The bar makes last call and Kayla and I go to cash out with our guys trailing behind us like sad little puppies. The guys end up cashing out first and the bartender tells them to wait for us outside. Kayla and I look at each other, laugh and say tapioca. We sneak out a side door and make our escape.

Kayla decides that she can't drive anymore and since Robert had offered to come get us if we need him, she calls him. While we wait we go to McDonalds and I get a happy meal. Which is probably the most delicious drunk food ever. We finish our meals quickly and then decide that we are still hungry. I get ANOTHER cheeseburger. For the love of booze, Erica, it's called self control (incidentally, I'm writing this as I eat french fries. damn it all to hell, old habits die hard).

Robert arrives, and I ride in the back. He barely speeks to me, although he isn't much of a talker to begin with, so that's not out of character. This was the first time I had seen him since the incident where he tried to make out with me and told me that there was something between us. However, he didn't make it awkward like I thought he would. He was just the same old Robert. On the ride home, I have a flashback of being 10 again and riding in the back of my brother's integra with him and his girlfriend Kara. I'm not sure why. And that's how the night ended.

Well, if I'm not the poster child for the saying "old habits die hard" I don't know who is.