For the love of a margarita...

5:30 p.m. - Meet up with my friends for drinks.  Start chugging margarita #1.

5:45 p.m. - Order margarita number two.  Hey Charles, are you still nursing that beer, princess?  Who cares if you have to work tomorrow?

6:15 p.m. - Start telling everyone at table all my embarrassing nicknames as a kid.

6:17 p.m. - Having trouble shutting up.  Start telling everyone how much reality TV I watch.

6:20 p.m. - Still nonplussed, tell everyone how I once called a friend on my cellphone, forgot to hang up and sang an entire Nelly Furtado song.  A really sappy one.

6:40 p.m. - Thanks to Alan and Charles, the embarrassment continues.  They bring up my infamous try to kill the pedestrian in a crosswalk episode, which occurred during my second year of law school.  I tell everyone that all I kept thinking when it happened was "This is a TORT!!  A Tort!"  Of course, with a little extra speed, it could have been vehicular manslaughter.

6:45 p.m. - Realize that my second margarita has magically been consumed, and I have been sucking on ice for 20 minutes.  Everyone else is ready for sushi.  Alan is sucking on Rachel's 2nd margarita.  Making this his 4th.  Not to be outdone, I go ahead and order #3.  Everyone can wait on sushi. 

7:00 p.m. - We all head across the street for sushi.  Wait for a table for 20 minutes.  Compare cell phones and ring tones.  This catches on and the next table over begins playing all the ringtones in their repetoire.

7:25 p.m. - We order damn near everything on the menu.  Waiter looks around and asks if we are sure we need that much.  I think he doubts what pigs we are.

7:40 p.m. - Sushi arrives and we fill our bellies.  Everyone talks about snowboarding and skiing and such.  I have been skiing maybe 3 times.  I brag about my skills on the bunny slope.  Everyone else is talking moguls, etc.  Somehow I think my bunny slope expertise is not all that impressive.  Randi, a friend of Rachel's, points out that I have rice from my sushi on my boob due to my rather uncoordinated, drunken use of chopsticks.  Deep inside, I know it is not the tequila that has affected my chopstick expertise.  My natural lack of grace has earned me one of the embarrassing nicknames I told everyone about at 6:15 p.m.  My family would be rolling on the floor by now, because there are few meals where I do not spill something on my shirt.

Believe it or not, all my
revelations during the night actually fit the topic of conversation, so I
think I may escape a lifetime of shame over this episode should I ever
decide to become a politician.  Hopefully, Alan will email me some
pictures from the night soon, and I'll post them.  Assuming I don't have a spot on my shirt,
of course.

Comments

[Alan]

I think Charles is still trying to polish off that beer.