Yep, I said that little line up there in the title out loud at Trader Joe’s yesterday. I’m pretty profound.
I don’t know what I thought life was going to be like when I started working, but I definitely didn’t picture it as the joke that it is now. This is literally my schedule every day:
- Happy hour
- Dinner (out or at home)
- Go out
Like who thought that I would be going out two times a day, every day? Not me. That’s what I get for having great, fun roommates and an endless supply of office coffee!
I worked through lunch so that I could leave work early for La Tasca happy hour! $4 sangria from 4-7 PM? Oh yas. It was like 4th of July all over again except I didn’t black out (see: the time I got hammered off sangria because I was not made aware that it was half rum like WHO DOES THAT?!).
We each had 2 glasses of sangria, except Lexi technically had 3 because she may or may not have knocked one over. Ooh, strike one. We decided that if she spilled anything else she had to go up to a guy that night and tell him “I wish I was your derivative so I could lie tangent to your curves.” Weirdly, she started trying to knock over everything in sight. I rescued my sangria by drinking it all.
Wait I lied, Megan only had 1 glass because she had a tinder date right after for “drinks” with some dude and didn’t want to show up drunk especially since we weren’t eating. SIDE NOTE: she ordered a whiskey sour. He ordered a club soda with lime and told her he doesn’t drink. THEN WHY DID YOU ASK HER OUT FOR DRINKS?!?! /rant.
So anyway, we sent our little Megs off on her date, and Lexi and I went home to have dinner and deep life conversations because what else do you do after happy hour? Well, you also go to Trader Joe’s, where we saw our good old friend/Lexi’s coworker Matty B! I thought he was still at the beach, so I practically tackle-hugged him into a rack of dried mango when I spotted his radiant frat tee (fratee? frocketee? idk). We had a nice chat in which we tried to convince him to come out with us that night. However, he is a consultant and is only persuaded by slide decks, and the TJ’s employees wouldn’t let us use their A/V equipment, so we were shit outta luck. Womp.
Megan got home shortly after we did and we took a quick poll of our tinder matches to determine a good spot to go out on a Tuesday. Verdict: Whitlow’s rooftop. Second verdict: there was like no one there. Fine by us, we had alcohol and Megan got some chips and salsa so we were good to go.
Two guys walked upstairs and one immediately zeroed in on Lexi. I nudged her, and she started rehearsing her derivative/tangent/curves line to herself, ready to make the move. Turns out she didn’t have to because he opened the conversation. One of the dudes bought us drinks (still unsure whether his name is John, JD, or Florida, because he used all three) so we liked him immediately. The other one was super attractive so we liked him too. We all talked for a while, and then after about 30 minutes they left. Kinda. 5 minutes later, Florida returned to ask Lexi for her number THANK GOD.
Dudes, just ask. We’ll give you ours if we like you and if we don’t like you, well that’s why I still know my 8th grade boyfriend’s phone number (lol sorry Alex).
Whitlow’s did their last call, so we headed out back home. That is until the bartender, whose name is Brandon but really reminded me of Tito from Rocket Power, yelled out “LADIES! You going to karaoke?” Lexi and Megan both looked at me because I was the only one who had work in the morning. My brain said “beauty sleep! Get your 8 hours!” but my heart had already picked out a song and was raring to go…
…so we went to karaoke at O’Sullivan’s! Tito promised to buy us a drink if we sang, so I signed us up to perform the perennial classic “Oops! I did it again,” which Britney Spears actually wrote about my drunk texting habits. For the fact that it was past midnight on a Tuesday, there was quite the wait on karaoke, so we kicked back and watched some of the worst performances I have ever seen. The lineup:
- The Macklemore wannabe who doesn’t know any of the lyrics, and doesn’t even pretend to know them, just kind of stands there
- The wannabe frat bro who chooses Born in the USA because the title is like, SO ‘Merica, dude, but he has never listened to the song so he just speaks the lyrics as they come on the screen
- The gay guy who has been asking around to take out the people in line in front of him, because he just CAN’T WAIT to get up there are sing his little heart out to a lesser-known Nicki Minaj song
- The random old man who sounds JUST like Frank Sinatra and dazzled us all by getting on the bar, crooning his angel song, and making every lady swoon (this is about the point where Tito grabbed me and we started swing dancing)
- The karaoke coordinator who was like “fuck all y’all on the list, it’s my turn” and CRUSHED it
- The girl who didn’t want to sing but her boyfriend made her and she chose Firework by Katy Perry and crashed and burned (lol kind of like a firework?)
FINALLY, it was our turn. We were #blessed to be going after Firework chick, so we were feeling pretty good. We started counting down the seconds until Tito bought us our drinks. We got a standing ovation, wolf whistles, and some people threw their underwear at us. Tito bought us Jaaaaaager bombs and then hugged us and maybe grabbed my butt? And then we peaced. Bed time.
I’m glad the club still goes up on a Tuesday, even when we’re 100 miles away from Mellow Mushroom pint night!