Thursday Tail

I had trouble writing this because the words wouldn’t come and I wasn’t in a tail-y sort of mood.

It started with a traditional happy hour and my friend dressed in a hot, slightly too-short dress with slightly impractical shoes. Regardless, she is newly single and we figured we might as well go big.

Go big, we did.

We left Cass St. Bar to get stamps at a gross, seedy club that charges too much for cover. Then we were supposed to go somewhere a little more respectable.

$3 drinks and an eighties cover band seemed to think otherwise.

So we stayed, parked in a booth next to an outlet for Kay’s phone charger (how did she find that?), and hung out for another round.

The band, The Eye Podz, took the stage dressed as iPods.

I can't believe they are legit. They have a Myspace!

After a song or two of dancing in our seats, we proceeded to harass a group of guys that looked a little too cool for school. They were propped against the bar with their Bud Lights, and a look of disgust.

Every girl likes a challenge, right?

So we had to make them ours. We danced and figured out that they went to the Naval Academy in Annapolis.

Turns out, Kay hooked up with her guy’s (Andy) college roommate at a drunken “schoolgirl” party (pleated skirt and all).

I made out with mine and Kay took hers to the stage.

We headed to the bathroom, where Kay got us kicked out of bar. We were escorted out by bouncers, and it appeared as though we ditched our make out buddies.

We hopped in a cab without any cash. He drove us to the ATM. We walked home from there.

Kay passed out on my living room floor, me on my toilet.

She woke me up and got me to bed, insisting that I put on clothes, because me waking up naked and her next to me “would just be weird”

In the morning, we thought the embarrassment would pass and the headache would remain.

A little browse through Kay’s cell phone log revealed that we had in fact called Andy 25 times because she thought I had lost my wallet.

We spent the rest of the morning, hoping we had the wrong number. Nope, turns out he really did get all 25 messages. Still embarrassing.

I saw them as I was walking home from the fireworks that night. I exclaimed, “I think I made out with that guy last night,” and as all of my kickball friends looked, one of the four turned around. Turned out the douche leaning against the bar no more that 24 hours ago was blessed with good hearing.

I kept walking, thankful I woke up with Kay and not the make out maverick.