When I get asked at work how my weekend was, my response usually ranges from a vague ‘good’ to the ever ambiguous ‘busy’. I wonder if they notice the little twinkle in my eye when I think back on the snapshots of my weekend, suppressing giggles just thinking about all of the naughty/fun/rawkus/ weird things I got into:
cozy at home with my friend eating goat cheese pizza and drinking winter spice.
sliding into the side of a cab boxing my ears between the door and the cab….requisite drinking injury.
outside a club, way too early, bouncer refuses to card us, we realize we’re the only ones there over the age of 19.
drinking shots of wild turkey, dancing at the next spot, lesbian grabs my waist and whispers something in my ear, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen enough for one night.
wake up feeling not as rough as anticipated meeting some friends for greasy breakfast and deciding a course of caesars is required. When it’s -26 degrees Celsius, the only thing to do during the day is drink. No wonder Canadians invented caesars.
deciding that the prescribed course of action should also involve naked dancing girls, we head to the peelers.
realize that it’s so cold that guys won’t even come out to ogle strippers and we are the only people watching the show. Creepy.
generously two of us decide to spend ten dollars worth of loonies on the dancer. My visiting friend is shocked that launching the coins at the dancer is ‘normal’ in Alberta.
on to the next spot, we rack up a $200 drinking tab before 4 pm.
friend drives us home in the frigid cold. Kisses me goodbye on the lips?
12 hours of drinking later, back at my place, friend asks me if I want to Hawaiian hot box my bathroom. Ummmm, yes. Then he proceeds to get naked. Obviously the next portion is x rated.
drinking port and eating gingerbread cookies on a Sunday night, dreading the cold and the fact that tomorrow is Monday, but cozy and warm together in my humble adobe.
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