The success rate of saving horses by riding cowboys

I told you. I told you that if I drank, this would happen.

THINGS. THINGS ARE HAPPENING. And yes, they are exciting, and YES, I haven’t blogged, but really. If you had the option to be DOING or BLOGGING about DOING, what would you choose? Plus, this way, I have so much more to tell you about.

You’re welcome.

Last weekend, I sang in the yearly Holiday Hoopla with the Symphony Chorus. It was the normal. Lots of Christmas Carols. Santa making jokes about the reindeer #occupyingthenorthpole. Merriment, cheer, etc, etc.

Thursday night, after the show, I pulled my friend Soprano over.

“Tomorrow night,” I said to her. “Gather your forces. I want to go out. I want to wear heels. I want to ingest this alocholic thing everyone keeps talking about. It will be wonderful.

Soprano agreed. She told a number of other choir members. And Friday Night, the heels came out.

We started at a brewery. We had four people in our party. But Soprano and I, exchanging words via Words With Friends, decided that we needed more. We needed to be up all night, just like the song. Thankfully, Facebook intervened.

Mystique and 3.16 are tagged at The Lodge.

I thanked Facebook, and immediately posted that I couldn’t believe they were downtown at the same time as me. Then, I showed Soprano, and off we went.

FAST FORWARD.

We enter the Lodge. There’s a country band playing. I remember this band.

The Country Band. Last Summer. Or maybe two summers ago. Who knows. I was drunk.

Mystique and 3.16 are huge fans of it, and last summer (or somewhere around there), I met up with them a few times and heard the band play. I was drunk. I sang to country music. Mystique tried to teach me how to line dance, but that ended terribly, up until I sat down sober some years later and learned Cotton Eyed Joe.

Mystique, rocking a musician's hat. I wanna say it's the bass player's?

Those drunken nights however…they even involved stealing the singer’s hat at some point. And wearing it. Until he stole it back.

Yes, yes, I’m a charmer.

You can see how excited I was that this band was playing. Everyone loves to be remembered as the drunk girl, after all.

Soprano and I took a seat at a high top table, looking straight across the dance floor at the band. Sitting is classier than drunk, I figured.

I leaned over to Soprano. “The last time I saw this band,” I told her over the music. “I was so drunk that I stole the singer’s hat, and that when we left I tried to limbo under every single parking lot gate.

Soprano gave me a look. “You’re kidding.”

I was not kidding at all.

I shrugged. “It’s mildly embarrassing.” We sit back with our beers to listen to the music. It’s nice and calm and not embarrassing at all until…

The lead singer takes a break from vocals when some girls take the stage to sing. He’s playing guitar and walking around the dancefloor when…

“Is he coming over here?” Soprano asks me. Seconds later, he’s at our table. Still playing guitar.

NBD.

“Hey,” he leans over to me. “Haven’t seen you in awhile.”

Oh dear Lord, I think. He remembers my drunken antics.

He gives me a hug and I grin awkwardly. I’m so good at being awkward.

“Do you remember my name?” I ask him.

He gives me a sheepish smile. I’m secretly grateful because I’ve forgotten his. Blackouts count as forgetting right?

We [re]introduce ourselves. He tells me it’s good to see me. We joke about him serenading me. He heads back to the stage.

“What did he SAY?” Soprano asks me. I replay the situation to her. She grins at me. “We’re staying til closing time, right?”

OH HELL YES, we are.

FAST FORWARD. Soprano and I are being accosted by a man in a plaid jacket and an Asian in a snowflake turtleneck. There’s a bear wearing a sweater on the wall. It’s time to go home, kids.

I tell Soprano I’m going to say goodbye to the MusicMan. After all, he came to say hi to me.

“I just wanted to tell you good night,” I tell him. He hugs me again. “You had a great show.”

“Thanks,” he says. “It was cool seeing you again.”

I blush. “Considering last time you saw me I was pretty drunk, and I’m pretty sure I drunk texted you…”

He grins. “Well, hey, if you ever want to sober text me.”

More blushing. I fumble over some words like I don’t have his phone number anymore because I had only saved it under MusicMan the last time I had it.

And thus, he ends up entering his number into my phone.

Handing it back to me, he says, “You can save it under MusicMan again.”

Wink. End Scene.

Now readers. Aren’t you glad I went out drinking. And also.

Who wants to ride a cowboy?!

 

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About L.A.

Mom Life/Engaged Life/Blog Life/Love Life

Posted on December 23, 2011, in Words and Phrases and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 11 Comments.

  1. HA. I was reading and hadn’t scrolled to the limbo picture, and thought to myself…I WISH SHE HAD A LIMBO PICT—YESSS!!

    beautiful, friend, beautiful.

    Next up: the child??

  2. I agree with poof! that picture was needed! missed your posts!

  3. You mean the time WE learned Cotton Eyed Joe (together). Via Youtube. In separate locations. While on the phone with each other. Too bad we only had one time to show off our skills…..
    #weshouldbeweddingcrashers

  4. i just looove the limbo photo! good job! 😉
    you’re such a party queen! one day i am going to party with you gals. that’s my goal in life now. ahahahahaha

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