So, my very best friend Paula and I had a plan. We were going to celebrate. A lot. Paula turned 40(finally!) this past week, and I turned 42. Paula got good news in the professional realm, and I have potentially exciting news coming professionally speaking. We both have personal lives that resemble a war-torn third world country, but we gotta focus on the good here, so we planned a combined party/celebration at our favorite bar this past Friday.
It started out simple enough. We gathered our favorite gay men( cause they are full of awesomeness and worship us) and my old roommates, and planned one of our typical drinking incidents. I say incidents, because when Paula and I drink together, some type of twitter worthy embarrassment usually occurs. We were slightly deterred, when Paula’s ex decided he was going to come with us, but we could not be swayed. Operation Have a Good Time would take place, even if it killed us.
A good time was had. We danced, Big Gay Matt (BGM) did splits in the middle of the dance floor, earning him the adoration of everyone, including the DJ. Paula was receiving constant texts and phone calls from her current boyfriend, while sitting next to her ex boyfriend, but that gave me a chance to establish myself as the white Oprah, and also to channel Dr. Phil. Yes, the poor soul actually came to me of all people for relationship advice. Silly man.
Bob as usual tried to ruin our fun by calling me for absolutely no reason, but that is to be expected, and I ignored it. I not only left him with our children and grandson, but Paula’s daughter too, so who had the better evening? Nice try douche cake!
Happily, the evening ended without incident. Paula didn’t end up crying and throwing up on herself, I stayed upright through the entire evening, and there was no jail time for anyone. A good time, people! Can’t wait for the next one.