Apparently I Really Enjoy Being "That Girl"

Last weekend while my brother was in Morocco riding camels, eating cous cous, and gawking at Arabian palaces along the Med. coast, I got stupidly drunk in Chicago and made an ass out of myself in public.

Life is unfair.

I attended an event titled "The World's Largest Block Party" (the validity of this claim TBD) in the west Chicago loop. The police shut down a few streets, and allowed everyone over the age of 21 to absolutely run amok. This event has a renown reputation as a huge singles/hook up situation, so I was more than a bit interested from the get-go.

So the streets were blocked off, tons of people were playing bags (or "cornhole" to some of you), eating BBQ, and drunk Karoke-ing on a side stage (that had a live band to boot...so much fun).

Your $35 entrance fee got you 5 drink tickets (to use for beer or wine) and the opportunity to see Train perform live.

My friends and I figured that the $35 for 5 drinks coupled with drunken mingling with other people sounded like a great plan.

The problems began when we met "The Wine Guys". Wine Guys consisted of four brothers of various ages who were doling out the wine and taking drink tickets from extremely intoxicated patrons. Let's just say that Wine Guys took an immediate interest in my girlfriends and I, which lead to many instances of "Oh no, keep your ticket. This one is on us". Thanks, sweet cheeks.

Around 9 p.m. I had to physically remove one of my girlfriends from the venue after finding her rambling, sweating, and walking around by herself drunk as a skunk. I walked her past about 30 of Chicago's finest, only to have them APPLAUD as my friend flung herself face down into the backseat of a cab. It only got more ridiculous from there on out.

Train starting playing soon after, and when "Meet Virginia" came on I decided that despite getting 3 glasses of wine for free, I needed to use the rest of my tickets. I grabbed my cup and my friend's and headed out to the beer garden to hit up my favorite men for drinks.

I suddenly became sidetracked by the presence of the bathroom, and somehow lost the cups and my sense of need for booze.

When I arrived back at the concert, my friends looked at me and asked what happened to both cups and the booze. I looked down at my empty hands and honestly had no f-ing clue what I did with them. Classy.

Well Train ended (don't really remember that since I was having way too much fun playing with free glo-sticks) and I guess the girls decided to round up the Wine Guys to see if they wanted to go out for drinks (aka get even more intoxicated and possibly make bad decisions).

Needless to say they acquiesced, and before I could even realize what was going on, John linked arms with me and we began leading the drunken crowd in procession to a local dive bar.

I had no idea how long we walked, or where we were. I was totally sloshy. We sat down in the bar at a huge table, and each guy was paired up with one girl for conversation and drinks. Should have been the setting for a totally normal, fun, sassy time. But of course someone had to ruin it.

Of course that someone was me.

I'm guessing it took all of 10 minutes before John and I started graphically making out AT THE TABLE. Did I mention that this young lad is 21? Yeah. And I'm 24. Let that sink in. I'm a predator.

You could not even begin to imagine the threatening looks I began to get from his 30 year old brother in one corner, who literally verbally threatened to basically kick my ass "if I hurt his little brother." Of course this was all said with a sickly sweet smile. Mind you this was all an absolute haze to me, but in my drunken state I began uttering "Are you threatening me? Really?" at loud decibels.

John, or Young One, constantly looked at me with doting puppy dog eyes, and on occasion would whisper in my ear, "Do you want to um, maybe go outside?" So we would, and it was raining, and my back was pressed up against the brick wall of the bar, making out so hard I thought my face was going to fall off. I might have been asleep at the time, that's how drunk I was.

Young One and I would then return to the table and promptly begin making out again. For hours. We took breaks to stare into each others eyes and for me to hand feed him chips and salsa as if he were a baby bird. What the heck is wrong with me.

I really don't like younger guys, but since a lot of older men I've dated have ended up being childish anyway, I guess it's a wash in my book. And I wish I could say this has been the only 21 year old in this calendar year, but it hasn't. Yerg. Am I a cougar in training? Wait, don't answer that.

So countless chips and salsa, vodka tonics, make outs, and shots later, the bar was closing down and the rain was coming down hard.

I didn't know this at the time, but the guys shelled out a few HUNDRED DOLLARS to pay for our food and drinks. When I am this intox, I tend to run away without saying goodbye, and I started to run for the door.

The guys followed us outside as I flagged down a cab with lightning speed.

Young One looked at me with the big puppy eyes, "But wait! Can't I at least get your number?"

I stopped in my tracks. Hopefully I didn't roll my eyes.

After giving him the digits, we hopped in the cab just as the guys asked us where we were going. One of my friends then told them MY ADDRESS.

As we sped off, I began rambling that I didn't want all those dudes coming to the apartmento. So what did we do? The classic female "shake off". We needed to kill some time in case they decided to swing by my homestead. So what did we do?

We went to Rock and Roll McDonald's.

If you live in Chicago or have visited, you probs know about the Rock and Roll McD's. Even if you HATE McDonald's, you will love this one. It's beyond amazing. I'll save my ranting and undying love for this place for another day.

We ended up getting food to go and hanging around and drunkenly mingling with the 3 a.m. bar crowd in hopes that the boys were then nowhere near my place.

It worked. We got home around 3:30 with no Wine Guys in sight. I wonder how angry they were when they got to my place only to have my doorman who looks like Wolverine tell them to go away? Eeek.

Imagine my delight when I received an email from one of my ladies this morning with two pictures of me making out with Young One at the bar. Awe-some. I love photographic reminders of my lusciousness, especially when I am sober.

This was right after I tried to open a can of pop at work whilst walking back to my desk and dropped it on the floor. My co-workers looked up as I yelled "SHIIIIIT!!!" at a volume that is not to be used in the workplace. There's nothing more fun then getting saucy pictures that I didn't know existed and then cleaning the floor on my hands and knees within the same 10 minute period.

My life? http://www.didthatreallyhappentome.com/