Birthday, mine. Drunkenness, not. If it was me, I wouldn’t be able to recall the story so well…
Following is the very, uncomfortably true story of a girl who got drunk. On My Birthday. Which was supposed to be a “fancy” night with sangria and girl time. And pretty dresses. And no boy-bars (Pioneer, F St, Koots, etc). And no boys.
Setting: My Birthday (it’s capitalized because it’s so important!), 2 years ago. I, the Birthday Girl, suggested fancy dress-up clothes, high heels, and a girls’ night of sangria-drinking at some hip downtown restaurants. One of my explicit rules? NO SHOTS. Another rule? NO BOYS (which means no sausage meat-market bars, ie F Street/Pioneer Bar/Chilkoots).
At Bear’s Tooth Restaurant, for blueberry white wine sangria-
Me: “Yaaaaaay! My birthday!!!!! Fancy clothes and classy places!!! No boys!”
Birthday Friends (3 girls): “Yaaaaaaay! Drinking! Fancy! We’re so pretty this is fun!”
At Orso Restaurant, for pomegranite red wine sangria-
Me: “Happy birthday to me, this is so much fun, I love sangria!”
Birthday Friends (except for one): “Yay, classy! Sangria! Pretty! Fun!”
The Exception: “yay, fancy, birthday… Hey let’s go to F Street!”
Everyone Else: “NOOOOOOO! Didn’t you sign a copy of the rules??” (I’m kidding)
The Exception: “Okay well let’s go to Bernie’s. There’s nowhere else to get sangria, and we can go upstairs to the private room there and drink champagne in mini bottles. That’s still classy, right?”
Smart Girls: “Okay. But only because of the champagne, because we know Jenny likes mini things - they make her feel big.”
At Bernie’s Bungalow Lounge, for mini-champagne-
All: “Whaaaat? The private-mini-birthday-champagne-room is unavailable??”
Me: “Well I need to use the restroom, so I’ll be back in a minute and we’ll reevaluate.”
–pee break–
Me, returning to the bar area: “Hey, um, what are all of these small shot-like glasses with red liquid doing here? Why is there one in front of my seat? Please tell me it’s mini-sangria.”
Smart Girls (just the 2): “Uh… [Girl Who Clearly Has Her Own Agenda] bought them.” (they look at me warily)
Agenda Girl: “HAPPY BIRTHDAY! BOTTOMS UP!” (she gives the waitress some batman-like signal and before I can even drink my mini-sangria-drink-that-was-actually-a-redheaded-slut-shot-with-jager-and-I-hate-jager, there was ANOTHER ONE in front of each of us)
Me: “Joy.”
Smart Girls: “Aaaaaand we’re drunk.”
Agenda Girl: “Let’s Go to F Street, they have mini champagne there I PROMISE!”
F Street Station Bar, for mini champagne and inevitable chaos-
Me: ” A table! On a Saturday! It MUST be my birthday!”
Everysingleperson who walks through the door: “Hey ladies, what are you all dressed up for? [insert ridiculous drunken pickup line here]”
Smart Girls: “We’re not supposed to be here. Scram. It’s girls’ night.”
Agenda Girl: “I bought everyone beer-shots-vokda-lime-cranberry-tonic-whiskey-drunken-idiot-drinks!!”
Smart Girls: “WHERE IS THE FUCKING MINI CHAMPAGNE?”
—-
We finally did get the mini champagne, but Agenda Girl saw some other friends and proceeded to ditch us and get exceedingly drunk while we, the Smart Girls, sat in the corner and protected our table in our fancy schmancy clothes and pretentious mini champagne bottles (looking like total bitches).
AND THEN…
The agenda is revealed, as Agenda Girl’s “nighttime friend” walks in. Chaos ensues.
—-
Agenda Girl: “Hey! There’s [total chode guy]! I’m gonna go say hi!”
She walks over and talks to Total Chode Guy for 30 seconds, during which he looks bord the entire time. He then completely brushes her off and turns his back while talking to a skinny blonde with too much purple eyeshadow on.
Smart Girls: (to eachother) “Uh oh, that looked painful… quick, say something nice here she comes!” (to Agenda Girl) “Heeeeeeyyyyyyyy… he’s cute(ish)!”
Agenda Girl: (already sobbing a little) “How could he just blow me off like that? We have such great conversation when we’re alone!”
Smart Girls: “Eh, don’t worry about it! Let’s just continue girls’ night!”
Agenda Girl: (actual tears are eeking out now) “But I can’t believe he could be such an asshole like that!”
Smart Girls: “Well… it’s Jenny’s birthday, let’s try to have some fun! Here, have some mini champagne out of a straw.”
Agenda Girl, in an excrutiatingly loud, teary-mascara-stained yell:
“but HIS DICK WAS INSIDE ME!”
Smart Girls, in unison: “Check, Please.”
And, that’s that. Inappropriate Hall of Fame, fo sho.
