These days, I don't get out much on Saturday nights. To be perfectly honest, I would rather stay home, watch a movie or some bad TV, and drink some wine. I like to save my socializing for Tuesdays and Thursdays, when the bar isn't as busy, and I can actually have conversations with my friends, instead of yelling across the table at them, and spending the evening nodding and smiling and pushing through a pack of drunk kids to get to the washroom.
But, this past Saturday, I just felt the need to be out the second I got home from work. What I really wanted was to sit on the patio, and drink some beer and clam, but since the patio isn't open, and I do not possess the ability to zip over to the future, I just headed down to the pub, hoping that it was interesting.
After a game of golf, a pizza and a couple pints, I convinced Das Piper and Wretched, GQ's Hot Italian Girlfriend, that the three of us could probably have a deadly time together and get into trouble, if we just left the pub before the Saturday night dance party began. We wrangled up a fourth, Kat, decided who was going to be the driver and chance losing their license, and headed out on the town.
We decided to do a pub crawl, and hit every bar from downtown to the south end of town, and have only one drink at each one, then run off to the next.
We stuck to beer for the first couple pubs, but the consensus was that we were more bloated than drunk, so we switched to girlie drinks. Chocolate martini's here, Jagermeister paralyzers everywhere else. We learned that Smitty's Lounge can be kind of scary on a Saturday night, the University bar closes, because everyone goes to The Pub, and drinks are still cheaper almost everywhere else, in comparison to our normal hang-out, even though liquor prices have risen. By the time we got to the last pub, where we found karaoke, I was sure I was lactose intolerant, and had to switch back to beer.
It was a fantastic time, and it was nice to get out and away from the norm, but after spending $125 on booze, and spending Sunday cursing milk, I think that I'm set to relax for a bit. Well, until the patio opens in a couple weeks, that is.