After being persuded to go out on Friday night, I did. 5 lovely ladies, my sis included, headed to Flannerys in a big yellow taxi cab. My intention was responsible drinking, I was very good for the first round, but then our friend the drink pourer came around. 5 shots, some booty shakes and being scared by a red bearded man, we danced back into the cab to the tune of Fergalicious. That's me eatting a pickle before going to JoCats.
Saturday night the bF and I ventured to the Southside for dinner. If you ever get a chance go to the Packing House on Layton for steaks. It's a brillant combo of soutside milwaukee meets log cabin fever. We were serenated by a 3 piece band, average age = 68. Then it was off to the Cactus Club for a grungier band. In order to wake up ordered a vodka red bull. Within the hour I was feeling like my insides were bleeding orange juice. I was quickly escorted into bed.
Sunday was another treat. Grandma's 81st birthday. Little did I know that putting food into my acid system wasn't a good choice. And on top of that taking Grandma's never ending stories created more misery. Why can't some people just be happy.
that's an awesome picture of you
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