Basement Dwellers.

This weekend was epic. I truly feel blessed to have such wonderful people in my life that keep me laughing, guessing and constantly entertained. The weekend update will be delivered in two posts as to not lose the attention of my readers.

FRIDAY NIGHT

Friendly giraffes Dinky Lover and Egg Monster are in town to visit. Chowe, Reef Rider and Kitty-Cat are on board for a night of fun and we all rendezvous at my place around 10 for some pre-game bubbly and brews before heading out on the town. For those of you readers unfamiliar with our city by the sea, the nightlife options are limited. We decide to get a martini at Christie's before heading to On the Rocks (see You can't rain on our parade).

Christie's: Usual Newport suspects in attendance, including our favorite dumps DJ SB, DWD, Big Mac and JD. Reef Rider orders me a Ketel dirty martini. I now remember why I stopped drinking those bad larrys on Martini Mondays in my early twenties. They might as well be called blackout bombs. They make me a little crazy. Egg crushed his martini in milliseconds and demanded that we get a move on. "This place is way too classy/upscale for me. I feel uncomfortable. Let's go somewhere grimy." My friends are so T. Needless to say, we were quickly up and out of there and en route to our favorite underground paradise.

On the Rocks: This is where shit got weird. At first, we were yet again dominating the dance floor until some potentially professional strippers took over the pole. Wild. The giraffes started throwing dolla dolla bills y'all and Dinky went as far to toss his belt, phone and wallet on the floor. We were all cuttin up the rug by the tank and pole in style when Kitty-Cat's YB entered the basement. This is prob when her martini blackout set in because next thing you know she had homeboy pinned against the wall, making out remy's style yet again. Pretty sure somewhere around this time, Egg was trying to creep on Reef Rider right before she Newport-ditched to get some bruises from Meathead Babydaddy. Sometime in between sucking face sessions, YB says to KC, "I can't picture you working with kids. Like, what do you wear?" Bahahaaha. YB's friend gets my number and it seems like they want to hang out based on review of his texts the next morning. My responses, however, made no sense and he actually called me a "hater." This is why I can't date boys born after 1986.

Home Sweet Home by 1:30ish. Kitty-Cat order two large pizzas (anyone surprised?) and face plant in my bed. Kitty-Cat is running around kitchen with left over sghetti dish which results in an angel hair shower for the couch. In an attempt to pick her up and put her to bed, the giraffes knock over a bamboo plant and glass shatters everywhere. What... a bunch of train wrecks.

Potentially my favorite part of this debauchery was our early morning recap/dance party. I woke up to find an Egg Monster snuggled next to me in bed (roller skates hanging off the end). Kitty-Cat and Dinky Lover enter around 8:30am with wine glasses of H2O and "I don't see nothin wrong with a little bump and grind" blasting from the kitchen. We all move to the living room to rehash the evening and watch Dinky perform some lip-synching and broom guitaring for our viewing pleasure (think Eric Hutchinson, Billy Joel, Paul Simon). Dinky's comment in reference to Kitty-Cat's YB, "Tell him I thought he was great in the Mighty Ducks." KC can't seem to find her cell phone so we call from mine. It's in the silverware drawer- no big deal. Before showering and getting ready for the next 24 hours I would spend with Chi girl (!), Egg shares a lovely reflection with me, "I only go to bars with stripper poles."

I think I will end on that note.