My friends from home have come and gone, and I have no idea what I was worried about. I haven't had that much fun in a long time.

I should have had some indication of how the night was going to go when while we were getting ready, we clipped Belinda's hair extensions on to Cece, and gave her the most rocking mullet anyone has ever seen. There are pictures of this. I will find them. She wandered around my apartment looking like Joe Dirt's long lost sister for awhile. After Spring gave herself a 3rd degree burn on her forehead with an Instyler, we decided it was time to hit the city.

So we went to Morton's.

Where we proceeded to eat ourselves damn near retarded. Spring spent most of the meal refusing to speak to anyone, as that would require a break from the food, anything Belinda ate went straight to her boobs, and Cece ate a steak that may actually have been bigger than she was.

Then we hit the bars, when we realized Belinda left her ID in Iowa. Belinda is pretty well past her 20's at this point, but she is one of those lucky bitches who will look 22 until the day she dies. If she wasn't awesome, I'd hate her on principle alone. She looks like Rosario Dawson, and I don't, thus she must be destroyed. Anyway.

We wound up at some bar on Rush and Divison, simply because between the two of us we managed to fanagle a bouncer into letting her in without an ID. Do not ask me how we pulled that off.

That's also when I started drinking tequila. Anyone who has known me for 10 minutes knows that I need extra supervision when I drink tequila. A lot of extra supervision.

By my count, I was 16 shots in when I called my friend Con to inform him that I was drunk, and surprisingly not calling from jail. We had a hell of a time. I was in rare form even for me, and wound up snagging the numbers of a gorgeous African guy. And the hot female asian bartender. Whatever, that's just how I roll.

It really got fun when my girls decided that we were taking a bunch of Irish guys back to my apartment with  us. When I say Irish, I don't mean Pasty White Guys Who Say Their Ancestors Are Irish. I mean Can't-Understand-A-Word-They-Say-But-I-Don't-Care-Because-They're-Hot Irish. 8 of us packed into a cab, which we got kicked out of shortly afterwards.

At this point, I was less than amused. We were bringing the Boondock saints back to my place, we were all ripped drunk, and I had had enough. I could give a fuck what happened to everyone else, the 3 girls that left with me were coming back with me. Anyone who wanted to tag along, fine.

Spring at this point decided I'd be less pissed off if she petted my hair and told me I was pretty. Which she did for about 45 minutes on the platform for the Blue Line. Whenever I asked her what the fuck she thought she was doing, she would respond with "Shh mama, you're pretty."

I should've known that it would've been a mess once we got off the train. I finally just shoved the girls in the direction of the car, and told them it was like watching 4 monkeys try to fuck a football.

I look over and this guy is laughing at me. He introduced himself, and asked if he could take me to breakfast.

Now, I am wasted. Not a little tipsy. I am seeing 3 of everything, Im hotter than you will ever be, giving my actual phone number to people wasted. You know, the special kind of drunk you usually only see on episodes of Intervention.

At about this time, I turn around and realize my friends have left me alone in the parking garage at the Cumberland stop of the Blue Line at 4 AM with some French guy who wants to take me out. (I'm lucky I wasnt bludgeoned to death). So you know what I did, right?

Right.

I was that special kind of drunk where I gave my number to a French dude at the train station at 4 AM.

Go ahead and think about that for awhile, I'll wait. It takes awhile to fully comprehend how absolutely stupid that was.

We finally made it back to my apartment, which now kind of resembles the United Nations because it's chock full of people with funny accents and more calling. To my surprise, The Frenchman called.

We are going out for drinks in a few days.

If you never hear from me again, It's because I decided to go out with someone I met on the Blue Line. At 4 AM.

Because really, what could go wrong with that scenario?