Observations after cutting loose on a Friday night

For the first time in months and months, I decided to go bar-hopping with a few of my single, party animal girl friends. As one would expect by the title, a few hijinks may have ensued, and a few observations were made. (Is it bad that I try frantically to memorize such instances when they occur due to the possibility of a good blog anecdote?)

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It is always a better idea to wait in line for 15 minutes for a bacon cheese potato in principle than in reality.

Especially when your friend runs into a former one-night stand in said line-up.

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Best text message sent to a boyfriend ever? "Jagerbombs + Journey = Best Drunken Night Ever".

Yes, I mean that Journey.
I actually heard "Don't Stop Believing" two times last night, and, for some reason, was thrilled about this.

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My friends are far bigger style mavens than I. The lessons I received from them whilst gussying me up for the evening included "never put your bangles on the same arm as your biggest ring". 

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Best accessory ever?

Gangsta' rings, bee-otch!

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Pretending you are someone you are very obviously not is grand fun. 

Example:

Cheesy guy: So how old are you ladies?

Friend: How old do you think we are?

Cheesy guy: Around 22. You seem too young to know Journey so well.

Me: I'm actually 45.

Cheesy guy: Shut up.

Me: No, I really am. I'm actually here for my son's 19th birthday party. He's at the bar getting some beers.

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Gatorade is very possibly the nectar of the Gods.

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How is it that I despise Womanizer when sober, but it becomes my new favourite song when drunk?

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My friends, along with being big stylistas, are also far too adept at playing the bar star.

Despite my attempt to convince Cheesy Guy of my middle agedness, my girl friends decided to take him up on his offer to buy us Jagerbombs. They then talked to him for the appropriate five to ten minutes, and quite obviously were not feeling him (though I may have been too into lip syncing "Return of the Mack" to notice). Instead of simply making an excuse to leave, they had a far more histrionic plan- pretending to have an argument. 

I was confused as anything at first, looking at the two of them wide-eyed, whispering plaintively "Why are you fighting?" It was only after one winked at me that I realized this was a well-honed act on their part. Cheesy Guy looked especially distraught at the dramatic turn of events, and let us leave without protest. It was only when we got a sufficient distance away that they broke into peals of laughter.

Perhaps it says how boring that I am that I would rather not take the drink, and therefore not have to talk to Cheesy Guy and not fake a fight. But, then again, what do I know?