No, He Didn't Buy Me Pearls!

Bah. So, we successfully celebrated Emily’s 25th birthday Saturday night. Oy. A group of us, including two of our favorite HHS girls, Brooke and Laura Beth, went out to Tsunami to begin the festivities. "Begin" means to order 4 carafes of sake immediately and see how many times you can slam your shot glass down, turn your head back, swallow and then shiver in disgust. Perfect beginning. I’m pretty sure the sushi was good too.
We paraded down to Pearlz, which was supposed to be our first stop of the night, but turned into our last stop also. We took over the corner of the bar, which is basically the perfect spot for shot buying if you ask me. Amongst the drinking, I continually called DeAnne (on Liz’s phone, mind you, as De does not believe in owning a phone) to tell them to come meet us at Pearlz. Somewhere along the way or somewhere in between the grain alcohol slushies, DeAnne someone turned my message of "meet us at Pearlz" to "Dave bought Nicole a new pearl necklace." Needless to say, our Cola friends never met up with us, but I heard they opted to carry around barstools and sit down when necessary during their stay at Wet Willies. Hey, works for me.
Okay so somehow I got conned into the Oyster Shot. Okay and for the record, that is basically the most disgusting shot ever. Which is why I had two. It’s like a train wreck, you know you should look away and not gawk and stare, but instead you say yes when some random hand shoves a disgusting thick reddish shot in your direction. Yep, just like a train wreck. Later into the evening, the shots continued to be shoved in my general direction, as well as everyone else’s direction, really, and we managed to get the bartender involved in the shot shoving. Turns out this cool ass bartender was the same one who was working the night that Dave and I had to drag Megan’s stupid ass out of there... you know, the night she pissed in our guest room... the night I kicked her out of our wedding the weekend before we got married. Yeah, that night. Well, we thanked him for being cool as shit and not giving us a hard time and for actually making fun of how drunk she was. PS: Someone please tell her this. She should really know. Okay, so after he learned that I "broke up" with her, he bought us a delicious round of Macintosh apple shots, which for the record, are basically the most not-disgusting shots ever. Basically the opposite of the oyster.
After the round of Goldschlager things started to run together. I know that Dave face-raped Emily, someone fell out of a chair, Emily and I exchanged birthday cards (in which, may it be noted, that Emily considers me "the jagerbomb of her life"), and things were just funny and fun and wonderful. I really can’t tell you the last time I had that much fun downtown. Obviously I got carried away and accidentally spent well over $100. DeAnne’s response, "What the hell did you buy? The bar?" Yeah, pretty much. Doh. I guess it’s financially a good thing that I don’t typically have that much fun downtown... pretty sure we’d be broke. Ha.
So we of course made it home and I turned into Betty Crocker/Martha Stewart as usual and served up some amazing grilled cheese sandwiches, cooked to everyone’s request, and made sure to stock everyone with water bottles and clean jammies. Then I cloroxed the kitchen and passed out.
And that, my friends, is how you celebrate a birthday.

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