Friday night's alright for...

So, chickens, where we're we? Ah, yes...Friday night festivities. Well, after Alice figured out that it was me texting her, I got on the magic that is the Metro and went to meet mah gurl.

Needless to say, she is FRACKIN FABULOUS. Some other things about her:

*She makes a kickass pasta sauce (with nutmeg!)
*Her cats are adorable
*That one date? The crazy one? The text & voicemail is even funnier than you can imagine.

So then we went out to Reston for a quick blogger meetup (where I couldn't figure out what name to go by). On the way there, an old lady decided she just loved! my necklace. To show her appreciation, she firmly poked me in the sternum. And that's how you make a wee little Chicago girl jump 5 feet in the air and make her eyes look like saucers. Alice assured me that it is NOT standard Virginia behavior (thank goodness).

And then we take the magic Metro back to really get things going. And by "get things going", I mean me, losing my footing & tripping on the sidewalk.

Let's fast-forward a bit, otherwise we'll be here all night.

*I drink several Malibu & Pineapple's
*We get to witness some of the more awful/awesome Douchebag fashion
*I make a mid-evening shoe wear wardrobe change, due to several unfortch stiletto/wooden deck slat incidents

I'm also gonna bullet this one too...cause I'm tiiired.

*We meet two guys, one of which was cute-ish and did cool remote control-y weapon stuff.
*One of them gets into a debate with Alice over Women's Rights and divulges his "opinions" over how if women don't want to have a baby, but the man does, she should carry it for him and then just sort of "hand it over". No doubt misjudging the look of horror on my face, he says, "and from the look in your eyes, I can tell you agree with 90% of what I'm saying". Noooope, in fact, I disagree with about 99% of what you just said.
*Then, upon my discussion of how the Hawks have a large quantity of Czechs & Slovaks, he tells me that I'm awful and that it's racist to say things like that. Moving on.

Since I'm sick of typing, I think the rest I'm a-gonna save for my own little memory hope chest.


the MomBabe said...

How dare you call me a chicken... I'm pretty sure that's racist.