So the club was... ummmmm... interesting
I present to you, photographic evidence before we left the house!
First, we went to dinner. Because the reservation was for 9 p.m. and the bitchy pregnant lady gets crabby eating that late, Josh and I had stopped for dinner with Jack at Panera earlier in the night.
And because we didn't want to get stuck splitting a dinner bill 10 ways when we ate a salad, we didn't order anything. Cheap? No. Money-saving? Definitely. We did end up ordering a dessert to share and Josh split a bottle of wine with two other people. So we dropped $40 in at the end of the meal and everyone was happy.
Since we were going out big, I decided to rock the fur coat for the evening. I swear to God, I am so pretentious. How can anyone be so vain and this pregnant?
So we headed to the club. I was told we were going to a cool club. Guest list and the whole shebang. But then the plans changed slightly, and we ended up going to a club that is literally across the street from Cabrini Green, one of the most famouse housing projects in all of Chicago.
As I contemplated whether or not I would give up my fur coat in an armed robbery, we headed to the door. As we roll up on it (how ya like that lingo?!) the group of people we are with start getting asked who they are there with and do they have ID and yada yada. I walk up and say, "Morgan? Hi! I'm Leah's friend, Amy. How are you?"
Turns out I knew one of the managers and she waved us right in. That's right. The pregnant one knew the doorperson and walked right in. I am so in demand.
So we walk into this club, and I look around say to Josh, "Don't you think there are an inordinate amount of fat chicks here?" Because seriously, there were a lot of women who should not have been wearing the outfits they were wearing. There's a difference between being overweight and being a fat chick and most of the difference involves wearing skin tight clothing.
Josh agreed and his friend basically said the same thing to us about 10 seconds later while we were standing near the bar. Which lasted about 10 more seconds before roughly 17 post-college-but-still-acting-like-they're-in-a-frat boys muscle their way past me, roughing the belly.
I headed for a seat, where the guy next to me proceeds to ask me, "So, you having fun?"
I do a double-take, like seriously, is he talking to me? I respond, "I am wildly out of place here."
He says, "That's because you're wearing a big wedding ring."
I say, "And not because I am PREGNANT?" as I point to the belly.
He is now dying laughing, says he didn't even notice and has to tell his buddy because this is hilarious. I'm sorry, this is just surreal. I am the oldest person in this bar by at least seven years and I am a mom and oh my God, I just felt so old
Then Josh gets called up to the bar to do shots by his friend, Ed. (Ed, who specifically asked for a shoutout in the blog, so Ed, here you are.) When they are up there doing shots, one of the other guys, Vinny, says something about paying and Ed tells him, "I got this round buddy" and shoves some money in his pocket. They all do Patron shots and when Vinny walks back over, he sees Ed dropped a $5 bill in his pocket. For an $80 round of shots. Hilarity ensues.
I manage to hold on until 1:15 in the morning, an hour I am usually seeing as I get up to pee in the middle of the night, when I announce to my drunky husband that I am leaving. He, however, of the Drunky McDrunkersons, doesn't want to leave and apparently wants to do more shots with fat chicks. He does put me in a cab, though, so chivalry is clearly not dead.
I arrive home 10 minutes later, wake a sleeping babysitter (Grandma) and go upstairs after telling her she is so lucky because when Josh gets home, whenever that might be, she gets to get up and let him in since he does not have his key.
Which she does. At 3-freaking-30 a.m. He then proceeds to come upstairs to bed, where he announces, "There's a 50-50 chance I am going to puke." He didn't and was asleep within 30 seconds.
So that, my friends, was my big night out. I think I may never do it again. Especially when pregnant. There's just nothing sexy about a pregnant chick dancing on a table now is there?
Labels: NaBloPoMo, Pregnancy