friday night...divas to the dancefloor

I don�t even know where to begin with the whirlwind that was my weekend. I suppose I should start with Friday, as that was when the trouble began. Friday I have my second interview thing, go home and change and realize that I have enough time to play a little tennis with my former roommate before I have to pick another friend up from work. So, I high tail it over to the courts and we hit fairly well for about an hour. The best shot of the day is when I framed a ball and it went straight up in the air. We watched, as it hit not one, not two, but three cars in the parking lot. The final car it hit was actually in motion. Whoops. We watched the ball like we were watching a tennis match, waiting to see what car it was going to hit next.

Friday night we went out. There were discussions before about how I have never been to the Fireplace, which is a seedy gay bar right next to the club we always go to. Friends of mine kept saying, �your feet always stick to the floor�but the music is good.� We get to the club around 10:30ish and it�s dead. We should have known. Even my good friend who tends bar was in the bathroom and said he doesn�t get to his station until 11:00. It was then decided that we would go to the Fireplace. I could not have been more out of place. Actually, pretty much everyone I was with was out of place. There were five of us and the only thing three of them had going for them was that they are black. Not that I was one the only cracker in the bar, but the demographics were totally flip-flopped from what I�m used to. IT. WAS. BRILLIANT. There was a man passed out on the step when we walked upstairs and when I asked the bartender for a vodka-soda she said �sure honey� and proceeded to tilt the bottle upside down until there was no room for soda. Then she squirted some soda on top. Four dollars people. Four dollars. We had two drinks, which apparently at the Fireplace is the equivalent to about eight.

We stumble over to the club, have more drinks and when we walk onto the dance floor I see a 60+ year old man dressed in the following: dress pants, suspenders, thick glasses, a white short sleeved dress shirt, and a shoulder length wig. Priceless. A friend of mine proceeded to dance with him. He then followed a few of my friends to the bathroom and said, �the bass of the music makes you wet.� The music makes you wet. *shudder*

Once the group split up there were hi-jinx in every room of that place. Three of my friends decided to put on a karaoke performance.

Saturday morning included a trip to the Best Buy, Target, and Shoppers Food Warehouse. I believe I was still drunk at the time because I thought it would be a good idea to wear what I wore to bed. There was no need to wash the glitter off my face because I figured people would appreciate the fact that my face looked like a pixie had sneezed on it.

The recovery process begins around 1:00 when I realize how crappie I feel. Thankfully it subsides after some walks outside, 4 bottles of Gatorade, and too many glasses of water to count.

Saturday I laid around the house watching stupid TV and trying to figure out what time we were all going to go and see Kill Bill 2. We watch the first one, go to see the second one and all I have to say is Quinton is a maniac and I loved that movie. There were seven of us seeing the movie and popcorn wasn�t enough to hold us over so we go to IHOP. When we�re leaving IHOP a few girls in front of us are doing their Lil� John impression from Chappelle Show. Seeing as how this is one of our favorite things we begin yelling �WHAT??!?!� and �OKAAAAAAAAY� and my personal favorite �YEEEEEEEAAASSSS.� Awesome. Call me up and I�ll do my impression. I think it�s pretty good.

e.