Where was I?

First of all, it's my birthday!! Woo hoo. Notgonnalie, I cried last night when I realized that I'm 25. I can't say I'm in my early 20's anymore. *Sniff* Okay, enough wallowing... on to my weekend in Chucktown.

I would sit here & tell you all about the classes we sat through and the normal dinners we had, but those pale in comparison to the adventure(s) we found ourselves in on Friday night.

Thursday night, we had a calm night. We went to dinner with a company rep (have to love those expense accounts) and we went to bed by 11:00. We found out the next morning that we had missed out on jello wrestling. J (my co-worker) and I decided that we were not going to miss out on the fun on Friday night, so we got in touch with two of our company reps who are notorious for living a crazy & extravagant lifestyle. [Last year, the notorious quote, that came from the mouth of one of the reps was, "Man, hand me a beer. I have to get rid of the taste of last night's coke & hookers."]

J & I got ready to go out for the night & headed out to meet our rep friends (whom we'll call MV for Miami Vice & CH for Coke & Hookers). We met up with MV & CH at the rooftop bar, where the first thing CH said was, "Hey bartender, take these girls' tab & roll it over on to mine." J & I looked at each other... sweeeet. Neither of us had eaten since breakfast, so we begged them to go somewhere to eat. I was adamant on having a steak & potatoes, and considering I was in jeans & sandals, I assumed we'd head to a local steakhouse.

MV & CH had other ideas in mind.

[Now, I call MV Miami Vice for a few reasons. First, he really is from Miami. And he looks every bit of it. Saturday night, he was fresh from the salon with a full mani, pedi, and wax. He was dressed head to toe like a Southern Penecostal on Easter Sunday. Grey slacks, dress shoes, lavender button down, diamond cross necklace. And it was 95 degrees at 8:00.]

We go back downstairs, and CH decides that we should eat in the restaurant downstairs. Now, this restaurant is straight up 5-star-have-to-know-what-silverware-to-use restaurant. And I'm wearing jeans. I have no doubt that had CH not slipped the maitre d' $60, we would've never gotten a table. Our wait went from 45 minutes to 5, and we were sat.

The next hour or so was a giant cluster-eff of me putting my napkin in the chair when I used the restroom (wrong), using my spoon to scoop the potatoes instead of the one provided (wrong), referring to my steak temperature as "bloody" (wrong.. apparently you're supposed to ask for warm or cool.. I don't even remember!), and almost spitting out my water when I was expecting tap (or excuse me, flat) & it happened to be Pelligrino.

And somewhere along the way, not one, but both reps decided that it should be their mission to make sure I went home with one or the other of them at the end of the night. So, not only did I have to endure the fact that I was a 2.5 star girl in a 5 star restaurant, but I also had to politely remove my hand quite a few times from the hand of MV, kicking J every single time I felt like my skin was going to melt off because MV wouldn't stop staring at me. Even when conversation was going on on the other side of the table, MV was staring at me, saying, "Your eyes. They're so gorgeous." And when CH found out that I surf? He actually asked J to switch seats with him so that he would be beside me instead of across from me. Thankfully, she refused.

There was so much inappropriateness going on that my head was spinning. CH actually asked if I was wearing gold panties to match my gold sequined shirt. He followed up that question with, "Let me see."

So, I know what most of you are thinking... Why didn't you backhand them and tell them that they were wildly inappropriate? Believe me. There were plenty of times that I wanted to. However, we were guests, and we were guests on their dime. We had no idea what kind of shenanigans we would encounter that night, and J & I most definitely learned our lesson. Free drinks & nice dinners are awesome, but I won't lie, I felt like a high-end call girl in that restaurant.

Thankfully, the rest of the night was much calmer. Well, except for when we walked out of the restaurant and W*ndy Davis walked in.

[via]

Armyw1ves fan + two three five beers = one excited blonde jumping up & down on the street in downtown Charlest0n.

All in all, the night honestly felt surreal. I'm pretty sure that night was as close to The Hangover as my life will ever get. And as glad as I am that I now know how the other half lives, I much prefer my middle-class, suburban, F21-shopping, "bloody" steak-eating life. :-)

I'm sure I'm forgetting parts of the story I really wanted to tell. Like how MV & CH had a "driver" named Tony, waiting for them downstairs, even though we were within walking distance of everything. And how I accidentally asked one of the other guys from our conference if he licked his wife's a-hole... don't ask. But, I've probably already made myself look bad enough, so I'll just leave well enough alone.

How was your weekend, lovelies?