Drunk blogging…it’s a lot like drunk dialing…only with more typos. (Thank goodness for spell chekc…ecxuse me—check.) I’ve just returned home from Jimmy Seas….an excellent bar on the Fox River not far from my house. The ladies (Brenda & Angela) planned a night out for taco Tuesday and invited me along. We had the honor of meeting Jerry Jr. and Jerry Sr. …they each bought us a drink (plus an initial drink I had purchased on arrival)…so right now my head is swimming in two martinis and a Blue Moon. I spoke most with Jerry Sr. …a 61-year-old man…he was very sweet. He ballroom dances as a hobby, works for the Red Cross, and is a member of the Over 30 Singles Club. He asked me a lot about my boyfriend and what it was like to work with someone you were dating. It’s hard to describe from my perspective…I like to think that we’re both adult enough to handle it…but I know I’m the piss-ant that gets miffed when things don’t go my way….as much as I hate to admit it.
Jerry Jr. is apparently a regular and is acquainted with the bartender, Paco…who talked him into doing body shots off Angela and I…I’ve never had a body shot done before…quite frankly I thought they were kidding. Before I knew it, little Paco was lifting all 163 lbs of me onto the table so he could pour Tequila Rose into my navel. I’m still embarrassed at the thought of it. I don’t have a cute ombligo and nobody should ever have to lift my hefty ass onto a table…and the only person I want near my navel is my computer geek boyfriend.
Navel…that’s such a funny word. When you hear the words “Naval Base” don’t you just think of a giant belly button? Belly buttons are funny.