Too old to party.

In an unprecedented move toward finding my wild and crazy ass self that’s buried deep deep inside…I went out with work friends.  Anyone that really believes it’s buried that deep doesn’t know me that well.  I’m one drink away from dancing on the bar.  Ya’ll know it.

This was a sort of…bachelorette party for a co worker who is getting married next weekend.  I think it became that when a carload of co workers found they had arrived early and …oh look…there’s an adult toy store.  Must stop there…

And chaos ensued.

There I am, the only one drinking water and as I was late, they had already started at the bar.  By the time we get to the table, some are on their third drink.  Out came the penis straws.

Now, here is where they don’t know me.  My OCD kicks in.  I like to drink out of particular glasses at home.  I avoid certain glasses.  I don’t like those little water cups you get at fast food restaurants, it feels weird to drink out of them.  And though I really like straws…they have to be skinny straws.  Sometimes, People, bigger isn’t better.

Teresa isn’t drinking out of the penis straw.  Sorry.

I did put it in my cup and drink around it.  I’m not a complete jerk.

So we’re all laughing, joking, being complete smart asses and I overhear something about  how long someone was married.   And I look at my friend Norma.  One of the seven of us there.  She’s bragging that she has been married for ten years.  I said, “Oh I don’t think so”.  Shouting with my arms raised to get everyone’s attention I said,

“I have been married longer than nearly everyone at this table has been alive”. 

“nuh uh” ~Norma

“27 years”.  ~me.

I got high fived and lots of wide eyes.  For the record, the one person who is older than 27?  She just turned 30 this year.  Poor girl.  She was devastated.  LOL.  She’s my boss.

Here’s the best part of the story.  We finished dinner they moved on to the bars.  I’m old you know.  I had to get home.   I have twelve miles to run today.

Kickin’ ass and takin’ names.

Run on.