Time to Detox

In case you read this and worry that it may have shut down at some point over the last week, I will start by saying that my liver is (surprisingly enough) still functioning. My body may not like me very much right now, but so far no major organs have called a strike. You see, Heather came to Chicago to celebrate finishing her third year of med school, celebrate her 25th birthday, celebrate (remember?) Memorial Day and say goodbye before I move. Highlights:

Thursday: 3 bottles of wine
Sushi for dinner followed by an Entourage marathon

Friday: mojito at Millennium Park - beer at Wrigley - beer at McGee's - mojito at Adobo - gimlet and shots at Barleycorn - gimlet, beer and a shot at the Cubby Bear

We went to the Cubby Bear after the Cub's game (that they should have won - I blame Karen, you don't show up to the Friendly Confines late and expect good karma). Mike and Joe were putting on a grand show, and everyone was dancing their butts off. . . except these two drunkards dry-humping behind us. You know the girl I mean - so into grinding on her boyfriend’s thigh that she doesn't realize she is also leaning and rubbing against everyone else around her. I don't like people to be in my personal bubble; so I leaned back into her hard enough to 1) make her stumble back a couple feet and b) nonverbally communicate "get up off me, women!" Unfortunately this was apparently not communicated effectively because she got ballsy and pushed me back, yelling "What did I do to you?"

Now, at this point I could have done all humanity a favor and explained to this girl the concept of personal space, but I did not want to - I was too excited that I was actually in a shoving match! Sweet, this could be my first fight! So, I turned around, put my finger in her face and said (in my best Dirty Harry voice) "You do not want to fuck with me." and pushed her again. She ran away tail between her legs. No first fight then, but it was pretty neat. Too bad my dad had gone home a few minutes earlier. He would have been so proud.

Saturday: champagne at the Hancock - vodka and red bulls at Mullen’s - bottle of water at Hydrate

We headed to the Signature Lounge to watch the Navy Pier fireworks. (Two of my Top Ten at one time!)

To the idiot guy who not once, but twice said, "Those fireworks are really low": Navy Pier does not buy a special "low" type of fireworks. When you are on the 96th floor, 1000 feet in the air, you are just really high. The fireworks are supposed to be below you - that is the effen point.

Later in the evening my friend's gay friend was at Hydrate (formerly Manhole) and "We should go there it is the best dancing in the city!" Now this was my first time at a gay club, but I had heard they are some of the best places to go. Hot guys to dance with who compliment your shoes and don't draw wood, right? Perhaps if you go earlier in the evening, but by 1:30 in the morning these guys have forgotten females exist. It was a blur of bare-chested sweatiness, techno throbbing, and dizzying lights. I did pay attention enough to come up with:

Straight Girl's Rules for Going to a Gay Club:
1. One person in the bathroom at a time
2. No matter the time of day or night, wear dark sunglasses. If you are at a gay bar, you might as well be fabulous/anonymous
3. If you want to find the only straight guy in the entire place - take Heather
4. Do not look at the televisions above the bar - hairy, pasty buns gettin some good lovin. . . 'nuff said
5. Always take their match books because they have pictures of half naked men on them
6. If a man grabs your crotch and walks away disappointed, it is time to go home

Sunday: Hurricanes at home
God bless homemade fondue

Monday: Summer Brew at home

Summer Brew (a.k.a. Get Naked and Fuck)
1 bottle of cheap vodka
3 cheap beers
2 liters of Mountain Dew
2 cans of frozen pink lemonade

Stir and enjoy with burgers.

If you're ever on Jeopardy: North and South Carolina observe May 10th as Confederate Memorial Day.

- lada bleeds Cubby (Union) blue