Turn around, bright eyes

Last night I finally got a chance to go out with a bunch of my South End Peeps. I thought it was just going to be three of us, but it turned into what Guillermo referred to as "the social event of the season".

A bit unexpected and a lot fun, an entire bunch of us plowed into Red Robin and ate and drank and were merry. There was a lot of gossip to catch up on, and since I was sitting at one end of the table, I didn't even get to catch all the juicy bits that were floating my way. Sadness!

There were actually quite a few of us who hadn't seen each other in months, since the wedding in September, or since leaving the store, and hugs all around were in order before we left for the night.



Di said (to the PBG and me), "I forgot what it was like being with the dirty-mind twins!"

Watch those hand gestures, girly!

. . .

We did end the night at what would be considered an early hour by most standards, but:

a) a few of us had to work early the next day
b) Guillermo had bar night to go to
c) Scott, PBG, and I just stayed up way too late the night before and are getting too old too fast.

Were I a younger lemur, I would have made us find something else to do and trouble to cause, but alas, I am not. Not this week, anyway.

. . .

When I got home last night, the guys were out carousing as well and got home about three hours after I did.

I came upstairs, discovered they were all completely ass-drunk, and decided to go to sleep.

That's when the crazy banjo demands started.

Again.

They all lay down on the floor and wouldn't get up until I played a selection of songs (very poorly).

Last night's set list included but was by no means limited to:

* American Music
* an X-rated version of She'll Be Coming Round the Mountain (not my idea)
* Total Eclipse of the Heart

It turns out drunk guys like caterwauling as much as drunk girls.