Send pants

The situation is grave. I am down to two pairs that fit, one of which I bought yesterday. Don't get me wrong, I am happy to not be fitting into my old pants but I just wish I had had the forsight to reserve some of Tess' spring/summer wardrobe budget for my own personal pant needs.

Anyway, I did not come here purely to discuss pants, fascinating though they may be. I came instead to talk about a Fun Night Out that was recently experienced by all...an event earmarked by Pop Rocks and vomiting.

You see, my husband was dispatched to Las Vegas for four days on a work-related retreat. (This is why I have not been blogging...there has been little time for internal dialogue, much less anything written down in some organized fashion). As a spouse's consolation prize, I got to go to my sister's show, two nights before he was scheduled to fly out, at our old favorite haunt the Pioneer Club, where the bar is tended by Lynn and there is a bowling alley to run amok in.

Pretty much the only time I really go out is to attend one of my sister's shows. Whenever Hate Me Boy Corduroy (from this point on to be known as HMBC because it's all just too much to type) plays the Pioneer Club a good time is had by all. Before I delve into the details, a few things to note:

1. The featured shot of the evening was a concoction of Lynn's creation which consisted on blue cuervo (I don't care if I spelled that wrong), Malibu rum and Pop Rocks...there might have been other things in there but those are the only three elements that are really sticking in my head.
2. I was being let loose for one evening of debauchery prior to a four day stretch of single parenting.
3. The band drinks free...(this will prove detrimental later on...)

So! Here is a photographic account of our evening:

We arrive! Here is me and Allison just prior to the beginning of the show.



And the show begins...a brief rundown on your band members...Amanda, of course you know of, then there is Zack on guitar, who I feel harbors some degree of hatred toward me as he is still in violent opposition of the band name which as we know from past posts was all my idea. Fred, on drums in the back is from Amanda's last band but has been repositioned from guitar to drums which I still can't get used to and then Joe on bass who I will later dance with in a saucy manner.

Ok! Here they all are:




Now, a careful examination of Amanda will show a stunning progression all the way up to Really, Really Drunk. More photography was had:


Allison and I take more pictures of ourselves (this is to become a repeated theme)



The band can't decide on the playlist to they put all the songs in a cup and let the audience pick them:



My pick...you can see how very excited I am:




And slowly but surely, Amanda begins her downward spiral...



Alcohol-wise, things are progressing rapidly. Amanda reaches her fifty seventh onstage gin and tonic, I decide that it would be fun to dance with Joe while his girlfriend captured the moment and toasts were made by all...





It was at this point that I noticed this:



Which of course led to endless photo ops...









I believe I introduced the notion that HMBC should put out an album called "Lonely Cause I'm Gnomey" and found this so hilarious that I laughed until I fell on the floor...which brings us to...

Bad Ideas That Are REALLY Funny When You Are Drunk!

Laying on the disgusting bar floor!



Hiding under the bathroom sink!





Running up and down the bowling alley lanes!



Pole dancing!



Crawling provacatively on pool tables!




Scaling walls!




Skiing!



Now, as is always the case, when you have a large group of drunken fools they are all completely convinced that they are so smokin' hot that there must be many, many photographs taken to document their youth and vitality...which leads to pictures like this:








Alas, good times must end as good times are apt to do...(?)...and so we bid farewell to our bartenders...



and our Pop Rockin' shots...



and embarked on the journey home. Which is when things got really ugly.

We were forced to go to Wendy's for sustinence since puking was both imminent and, sadly, inevitable...why the addition of greasy fast food was put forth as a solution to this problem remains to me a mystery. In any case, we all got Wendy's in some form which was paid for by Amanda who pushed all money aside while sobbing, "No guys...it's all on me...cause you guys, you came out and you had a good time...and that's really all I want...for everybody to come out and have good time (sob!)."

Who can argue with that?

So we ate...and Ashley, our DD, pulled over at appropriate intervals to let our friend Kevin vomit out the back door on the NJ Turnpike (which can really only stand to improve the turnpike in my humble opinion). Amanda, who is very slick, managed to throw up out the window without anyone noticing...until we got out and saw the vomit splashed car. Amanda remarked sadly..."I am prolly gonna have to help Ashley wash that shit tomorrow."

Indeed.