In Da Club

Here's the thing about clubs,
I don't like them.
The music is too loud, the bathroom lines are too long,
the people are too pretty-
oh, and don't even get me started on bathroom attendants.
I refuse, REFUSE I say, to pay someone
to dry my hands. If ever there was a bullshit job that's one.
(pun?)

Anyway,
If I'm going to get sloppy I prefer to be in a dark,
dirty bar where no one is going to judge me
if I just happen to start eating Doritos out of my purse,
or if I decide it's more comfortable to walk around barefoot.

But Friday night was an exception.
It certainly was.
Chris and I didn't just break out of our comfortable
little neighborhood of Lincoln Park bars,
we full on "clubbed" downtown bouncing from one hot spot to the next
(via limo of course... )
we cut lines, had bottle service, and danced on booths...
It was soooo not us.
I feel like such an asshat just thinking about it.
Thank God much of it remains a bit blurry yet.
I blame the reason I drank about 18 cocktails on the fact
I was so obviously out of my element.

By 4:00 a.m. we were in a cab headed home
until I figured out I had left my scarf behind
and was damn near in tears because of it.
The funny part is I didn't even wear a scarf out...
How bout that.
Other than that, I will admit it was a pretty great night.

But great nights often lead to horrible mornings.
Yesterday was a struggle.
Luckily, Chris came to the rescue and ordered a "few" snacks to make us feel better.