First there was happy hour with my super important mentors/co-teachers/friends. In my End-of-the-Day-on-Friday special manner, I was a clutz. Chips missed my mouth, and I was this close to accidentally shoving my straw up my nose instead of in my mouth.* Atleast it wasn't from the margaritas. There was a pile of chips, damp napkins, and salsa drippings crowding my place setting by the time I left.
*This actually occurred to a friend of mine in high school. Long day of tournament play, pizza hut, straw, nose... all the way down to nosebleed and laughing so hard you can't breathe.
Then there was Japanese buffet (not suggested). The best part was the banana crepe that resembled and tasted oddly like strawberries. Greg was so overzealous that he overstuffed himself and his plate. At a Japanese buffet, you do not do such things. While I was in the bathroom the table busser came around to clear the plates. I came back to the table to find my husbands plate cleared, and my previously empty plate half full of food that I surely did not put there. Oh, right, and the dirty looks from the table busser. Apparently Greg thought it would be a good idea to put all of his unwanted food on my plate, so that I would be the one to get the scolding from the busser. I didn't even try to make eye contact as my plate was taken away and the busser muttered what I can only determine to be mildly offensive things about me in Japanese.
Then I went to what they call a "Birthday Party." Apparently, for adult men, this means travelling back in time to a magical world of make believe... where the Oscar goes to Animal House and being in a band means toting around your XBox, complete with drumset, guitars, and microphone, and playing notes off of a TV. There were jello shots and beer. I was one of three females (only 2 of us spoke), surrounded by 20 males that were either IN the band, or played virtual soccer on one of the 2 computers in the living room... You know.. the room where the band was playing. Did I mention the 1/2 working bathroom across from the washing machine and next to the drafty garage door? If my tush could catch a cold, it would have spent all weekend in bed.
I was a good sport. I hung in there.
And by 1:30 in the morning, the band had decided to pack up.
I've never been so happy to leave a concert.
The entire way home I was planning my far more sophisticated evening out for next week...
It involves wine, sleep, and something mildly adult such as playing cranium.