TMI Thursday - Cougars On The Prowl

Daffy said that I need to partake of TMI Thursday's to be one of the cool kids. I'm all about being one of the cool kids so here goes nothing. This story involves several friends who have in no way shape or form given me permission to verbally vomit about their lives for all the world to read. It's too bad they chose me as a friend. There will be no distinguishing details revealed about any of them.

Birthday's are a huge deal among my circle of friends. We always get the group together, there are gifts, dinner, and all around jovial times. We are a pretty sedate group (don't worry I have TWO groups of friends, the sedate group and not so sedate group). I call this group my sedate friends. I'm not sure why we're so boring sedate when we're together. They are all older than me, I'm the youngest in the group (by 15 years with some of the girls). They are all woman I currently work with or have worked with in the past.

Anyfriend, back in the fall we were celebrating my birthday. I love days that are all about ME. Everyday should be all about me and then EVERYONE could partake of the wonderfulness of celebrating me. That would be so awesome for you guys. The most conservative chicka in the group had me convinced that NO ONE could come to dinner or partake of the fantasticalness of celebrating me. Everyone was busy. She had me CONVINCED it was her and I for a quick birthday celebration. Bitch got me good. We arrived at a brand new restaurant in town and there were the other 8 girls in the group and our friend who lives out of province, who had also come into town to celebrate ME. Keep in mind I have worked with some of these ladies for seven or eight years. We are great friends and I love each of them, but I have never seen any of them drunk. Never. We've been tipsy together and we love a good bottle of wine but shitfaced, goggle eyed, everyman is the man of my dreams drunk...it's never happened. Until that fateful night. The stars aligned, the moon was in it's zenith (whatever the hell that means) and someone decided it would be fun to do tequila shooters. The evening just went to hell in a handbasket after that.

Ok, you need to get the mental pic in your head here. There are 9 of us, ranging in age from 36 (me) to 50 (bitch friend* that had me convinced no one was coming to my party). We're all in our corporate gear from work, in a new restaurant/club that has been touted in the media as the most chic, urban place to be. We have a beautiful dinner, I open all my awesome presents and then we start doing tequila shooters. Oh the humanity. I still shudder to think of the total asshats we made of ourselves that evening.

At one point we had a male waiter literally run ...RUN from our table because we scared the shit out him. Perhaps it was the ferile, drunken look in our eyes or perhaps it was because we kept asking him how old he was while licking our lips. We laughed as he ran away, telling him to take his weak-ass will  to another table and send us a REAL man.

At one point, bitch friend decided it would be a pretty neat idea to drink tequila out of her brand new Franco's. So she took her shoe off, poured 6 shots of tequila in her shoe and proceeded to pass it around the table.  We drank from her fucking shoe, laughing hysterically the entire time because c'mon, drinking from shoes is funny right, and not at all trailer trash. There are pictures.

A discussion was held regarding new lipsticks on the market. B had purchased a new lipstick and explained to the group that it made her lips tingle. No one believed her (we're drunk) so we had her haul the lipstick out of her purse to show us this magical lipstick. Then she proceeded to apply the lipstick on each set of lips sitting at the table. Much laughter ensued and jokes were made about putting the lipstick on our nipples ...because it tingled (not by me, I would never do that). There are pictures.

Oh and then there was dancing. Nothing finer than a bunch of middle age women thinking they got it goin' on like J. Lo in the middle of a dance floor. Of course, there was no stumbling involved, at all.  Classy, right?

Then bitch friend got sick. I'm not talking a little puke in your mouth sick, I'm talking painting the walls for an hour straight sick. We laughed. What's funnier than seeing the most straightlaced of the group puking her really expensive dinner all over the bathroom walls? That's funny, right? We thought so. Don't worry, we made sure someone guarded the bathroom door while she puked. We were also kind enough to phone her husband to tell him he had to come pick her up. He thought we were playing some sort of joke on him. He kept asking, "She's drunk? She can't be drunk." It took quite a while to convey our message because the conversation went something like this:

Me: Bitch's husband you need.....ohhhh just wait a sec I love this song here talk to K....
K: Bitch's husband...what Dual Mom was trying to tell you is that your wife is .... oh hold on Dual Mom wants me on the dance floor with her...talk to Jay.
Jay: Hey Bitch's husband, how are you? What? Your wife, oh she's in the bathroom redecorating. Don't worry she's fine, we got her back, just like they say in the hood (Jay wouldn't know a hood if it slapped her across the face). Oh wait, there's a cute boy....here talk to Mim.
Mim: ellooooo? huh...who is this?

I think it finally dawned on him how drunk we were because about a half hour later the cavalry arrived and he brought B's husband with him. We laughed with glee as they tried to round us up. It was a bit like romper room in your local pre-school class. Just as they thought they had the entire group gathered at the front door, someone would make a run for it back to the dance floor. I think at one point they recruited the assistance of a bouncer.

The bill for the tequila shooters alone was $300. It was worth every penny of it.

Bitch friend was sick for three days. She tried to convince everyone she had swine flu.

It was the best birthday ever!

*I call her bitch friend but she's not. She is the kindest, most loving person I know.