Excuse me while I do another face-plant

I fell. Again. This time while completely sober. In front of three entering cars (full-o-passengers), two 20-something hottie valets, and a brash parking attendant. I attempted crossing the Frankfort alley in the Warehouse District from one lot to the next, hurdling over a single-chain entry. Well, as one boot went over, the foot-not-so-firmly-on-the-ground slid on ice and I tripped over the chain. If I would have been “that girl” chatting on my celly or redoing lipgloss, I would have had pieces of asphalt in my forehead. Lucky for me, I had my gloves on and yet I still have pavement scratches on my palms. The funniest thing though was the sound I made when I fell (hard). Somewhere between an “ooooof” but sounding more like the high pitch of air being released out of a blow-up pool toy. I rose up as if nothing happened — too embarrassed to look behind me. Can I get my gravity checked?

So much for Friday Happy Hour! I ended up home around 3 am. I intended to do the free wine tasting at Velvet Dog, but when I walked in at 6, there were 4 people there — and two were bartenders. I continued to Liquid to catch their crowd. Sweet! It’s crowded with hot suits… and drinks are $2.50! We made asses of ourselves there for a while before drinking even more heavily at Dive Bar. Did I forget to hug my door guys tonight? Why did I keep drinking when the bars cleared out at around 8 o’clock? I met some random hockey player from canada and some magazine executive (why do you have a florida address and a Summit County phone number?) Did one shot, yes a SHOT of jack daniels *shiver* just as the ugly lights were coming on. Ew.

I had another sad cooking attempt with a late-night omellette and burned it. Left it on the burner at high while I washed my face and brushed my teeth. (Why did I brush my teeth before eating?) Did I eat it? Hell, yes!

My wake up call Saturday morning was at 7:30 — this may hurt a bit — for JA bowling event at 9am Craziest place for a bowling alley ever — downtown on Superior (cross-road was past 13th, I think). It’s like on the 4th floor of a building over a parking garage. Ambassador Lanes is another of those hidden gems of Cleveland. I sure had my fill of disco music by noon which may/not have had something to do with a Public House sandwich craving. I ordered the 25-cent wings. Mmm-Mmm!

You would think I would need a break by the time Saturday night rolled around… right. Started another girls’ night out in Ohio City. Garage was dead at 10. Had a gas & oil shot. I know my liquor and never heard of black vodka. Bier Markt was sweet — but we were surrounded by annoying ex-boyfriends. We go downtown again: Liquid (lots of freebies and crazy bathroom chicks), Velvet Dog (which wouldn’t have been complete without the politician from Mentor trying to pimp me), Bar Flyy (I got in! I got in! I didn’t have to wait in line!). Eh, by 2am, they all feel the same. And to the bitchy-bartender that ignored us for 20 minutes until “last-call”… *many frustrated swear words* it’s a good thing I don’t work in a bar.

Highlights also include: stroking some random’s chest outside the bars on W. 6th Street, bumping into the guy I didn’t know that I kissed at midnight on New Year’s Eve, running after the neighbor’s dog on Clifton, the-potential-to-be-intelligent text messages to The Wingman stating Before you get serious with your girl we should totally do it , to Lin-Lin Up in the coat booth (um yeah, wherever that is) and a completely undeserving I miss you to those that which to remain anonymous. Oh, and salami and egg sandwiches.

Would the weekend be complete without another scary cab ride? Tonight’s pusher taxi driver: No thank you for the shrooms you were dealing. Did we really have a drug conversation with a cabbie? I don’t remember signing any release papers… or stealing his papers.

Woke up early Sunday for continued “girls day” adventures with Bruegger’s — complete with rude and inattentive food staff — and an afternoon of shopping spree pampering at Crocker Park. Not to be outdone by the laughs produced by the labels on our SmartWater bottles (make you feel like a million bucks… or 750k if you spent the night on the bathroom floor). Seriously. Hilarious. And what hangover Sunday would be complete without (more) food? Mmmm! Enchiladas at Nuevo Alcapulco.

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