the night started out with a dear friend and a delicious dinner. also known as a win-win.
on our walk over to the near-by bar, I recieved a compliment. or a comment. I'm not sure what to call it actually.
I like your hair. It's very...shabby chic.
For the record: i wouldn't describe my hair so much as shabby chic, but more as meg ryan-esque. or possibly just not brushed. Ratty might be the best term actually.
now let's pause for a sec because here's a man who actually physically resembled John Stamos. in regards to this blog, things are about to get confusing in the Stamos department.
more on that later.
note: on the laundry-list of things I'll do to get free drinks, flirting with men I normally wouldn't makes it to the top 5.
i stuck with this tactic until my liquid confidence was high enough to venture towards greener pastures. because this particular bar on this particular night was what they refer to as a full-blown sausage-fest, we had our pick.
as it turns out, this was a bachelor party.
jackpot.
one of the men claimed he knew me from somewhere.
note to men everywhere: this is not an effective pick up line. ever. you do not know me from anywhere.
it turns out, this man was friends with The Other John Stamos aka Mr. Shabby Chic. The Other John Stamos then proceeded to become a total cockblock.
ever had two friends fight over you at a bar?
yah, me neither.
this bachelor party was doing a bar crawl.
this bachelor party also had a party bus.
guys. i got on the party bus.
we went to a bar with a photo booth in it.
i'm now $20 poorer and have hilarious pictures of people i don't know decorating my refrigerator.
this makes up for my lost scarf.
sort of.
we ate hot dogs from a street vender.
i loaded mine with onions.
im a classy lady.
and at closing time, Mr. REA picked me up.
moral of the story: I don't have any morals.
