My name is Jim Dobson. Can I buy you a shot?

Weekend, much? Well, then let’s begin.

It was a weekend of a thousand birthday celebrations, but for the same friend — another 30-year-old addition to the club. Friday night, we started with bar food and brews at Slim & Chubby’s. Mmmmm, BLT and giant salad. (Note: I ruined my diet this weekend with really crappy food. Starting over again today). I was exceptionally hungover all day Friday, but the first taste of beer cured all my ills.

Then, the party continued at PJ McIntyre’s. I ran into a girl bartender that I haven’t seen in seriously 10 years — and believe it, she’s in my New Year’s Eve Hoochie picture post from a couple weeks ago. How about that shit? PJM’s was a blast. Punch the Clown was playing too, which added to its awesomeness. But because it was a birthday celebration, we needed to troll the adjoining West Park bar locations. Next up, West Park Station. The band here was also good, but the dancing lady with the tambourine was hilarious. We kept placing bets on which song her nip would totally pop out of her shirt.

Smedley’s, the small hole in the wall mainstay on Lorain, was next. First, I run into Peanuts outside the bar, which was random. Again, another fun band — we then started our quest to get the “birthday song” played for our friend. A few Bon Jovi-esque songs and an old lady with a cane jamming on stage with the band later, we decided to go back to PJM’s. Upon leaving Smedley’s, this drunk guy that became part of our party group, picked me up to carry me across Lorain — and I was wearing a skirt. You’re welcome to anyone that saw my ass cheeks Friday night.

We started dancing and doing more shots at PJM’s. Punch the Clown sang “Happy Birthday” for my friend. THEN, I got a shot out from the band. I can’t remember exactly what he said — something like “Mel’s got it” or “Everybody like Mel,” apparently as result for my singing along to Bon Jovi, Beastie Boys & God-knows-what-else. Mel, always your crowd pleaser. And, he remembered me? Random.

Then I met a guy. OK, I already met him YEARS ago, but “reconnected” I suppose is the appropriate word. I’m pretty sure I asked if he were still single, and I’m almost positive he said he wanted to hang out… and I seriously hope I gave him the correct sequence of digits in my phone number. And guys, what’s the code again for calling back? Are you making us wait, like, a week now?

We had a couple blocks to walk home, which was awesome, especially when we took pictures by the church sign where “God Loves You.” Then we made pizza and all pow-wowed on the kitchen floor before passing out. I got to sleep bitch. You know, like riding bitch, but in this case, sleeping bitch. Figure it out.

After pancakes and a fairly productive Saturday afternoon, the girls planned for an “if it ain’t broke…” night out again in West Park. This time, we had dinner at West Park Station, and I was seriously disappointed in the service, food and audible dinner levels of the really crappy hard rock band. Our waitress seemingly was having an awful night — she wasn’t really rude, but she wasn’t entirely pleasant either. Almost as if we were bothering her. The cheeseburger was gross — dried out and gross. I really needed a medium rare, greasy hamburger. There was no pink in my burger and definitely no grease. Then, after requesting our check, and waiting for 20 minutes for our waitress to return, we finally had to grab another waitress to attempt to track down the server. The band started around 10. Loudly. Unnecessarily loud. WPS was not that loud the prior night. Management may want to recheck their acoustics before the crowd actually fills into the bar. It was a rarity, as our dining experience has always been perfect at WPS. Hopefully, this is not its new habit. The views were interesting from our booth with some tattooed stripper momma entertaining us with her dance floor ass jiggling. And what the fuck were those shoes? Very reminiscent of our candy raver days.

PJM’s had a country band, but no cowboys in tight pants. I watched some woman walk from the parking lot into the bar with NO SHOES ON HER FEET. Disgusting. Then we walked over to Back Stage Bar. This was a little gem in the West Park neighborhood! The layout of the place was awesome — and they have a super cute private room. The bathroom — OMG, the bathroom! Seriously, check it out just for the bathroom, then stay around because it was a very cool and chill place to hang. The band Saturday night had some reggae-ish feel and definitely pleasing to the ears.

After entertaining the bar back with posed pictures in the Green Room, we headed over to the Public House. Because the only two empty seats were behind the beer taps, it took longer than necessary to get some beers. And since the video gaming system was right there, we added our fun names to the top score list of Photo Hunt. When my friend went up to use the restroom, Jim Dobson sat in her seat, introduced himself and asked if I wanted a shot. It was the strangest thing. He bought two shots when my friend returned and then he just walked away.

Another walk home (gosh, got chilly Saturday night) and a grilled cheese sandwich and a slice of chocolate cake, it was dreamland time again. Saturday night was not nearly as exciting as Friday night — it was hard to repeat — but I thought it was relaxing and all-in-all a good weekend spent.

Sunday, we wandered over to Avon for a trip to Old Navy for the summer sale — where I got the best phone call EVER. Unfortunately, I cannot spread the news yet. No, it was not the guy calling me, but stay tuned (Don’t you hate that?). I found a super cute black dress at for my friend’s wedding in a couple weeks and THEN at Target, I finally found a set of curtains for my living room (and Q-tips, but whatever). Can you believe, the panels worked? They were the perfect color, length and fabric. OMG, after almost two-and-a-half years in my condo, I finally found curtains (and I have no intentions of returning them). Next step, find a local artist to paint a retro flowering tree and bluebird mural in my living room.

OK, so after fueling the shopping bug, it was time to feed the hangover. Drove around the shopping district and came to Hot Dog Heaven. Heaven, indeed! I remember the location in Amherst when I was younger. I had to look at their takeout menu to see if it was the same chain. I had a Clevelander (all beef) dog with the works AND chili.

As you can imagine, Best. Weekend. Ever. Now, call me already, dammit!

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.