Last night.

I'm trying not to crack under peer pressure (or at least the one comment where Kat mentioned I hadn't explained why last evening was so funny). Last evening's antics weren't something that would be particularly blog-friendly (that might be a hint to Kat that no, perhaps I WASN'T a very good girl last night...) and perhaps may only be funny to myself and Sarah. Still, I'll mention the more tame parts...

As our server led us to our table at TGI's, she asked if we'd been watching a movie, as the restaurant is in the cinema complex. I said no, we'd just been doing a spot of retail therapy, as I was still under the impression boys sucked, and I need a new sport, like trying on 47 dresses in 3 hours and disliking all of them. She immediately said "ugh, I had boy trouble ALL last week" and took our order for delicious carbs and saturated fat cunningly disguised as Potato Twisters.

After she left, another girl popped up to take our drink orders, and - I'm unsure how - ended up sitting down with us giving us suggestions for the place we like to call Vag Valley - where only women roam free, unfettered by men and their silly ways - and where only a single Spanish butler exists, simply to tell us our slender our ankles look and to casually mention our beauty as he passes us another margarita. Men would be shipped in every 6 months for a 'service', and conveniently leave again after 24 hours. We would live happily in our village of Danoz direct (so we could get our jars open) and a lifetime membership at Sexyland (so we could get our...nevermind). We would each have a horse - and as many pets as we wanted without anyone questioning our authority on just how many puppies are too many puppies - and have unlimited access to Cadbury, which would clearly be re-invented so it contained no calories. There would be no dirty socks laying around. No half-arsed attempts at finishing the kitchen cabinets. All would be...

I'm losing my point. As she put forth her own suggestions - after clearly thinking we were insane for all of 3.2 seconds before realizing what a totally fabulous idea it really is - she dropped the startling bombshell that there was Happy Hour between 9pm and 11pm. Well, after she poured a nice little Smirnoff shot into my soft-drink at the very table, she told me it was cheaper - i.e HALF PRICE - to order drinks from the bar. Sarah was driving home; I naturally needed no further encouragement, and soon had 4 Long Island Iced Tea's lined up before me. Ahhh. I know it cuts into my 'not drinking ever again' theory after last Saturday, but heck, it was cheap, the barman was vaguely attractive, and I was in an awesome mood (unlike last Saturday...).

If Sarah and I were giggly before, this soon upped the ante. The table behind us soon vacated, and each time the male waiter - who clearly thought he was God's gift to women, but was sporting some sort of disturbing 1970's porn star facial fuzz - scuttled past, it seemed to be at an inopportune moment whilst I was saying something rude. I think he may have thought we were lesbians. We just about covered every topic of hilarity - which was mostly NSFW- last night. Or so it seemed at the time. We laughed until our faces ached, and our bellies joined in, too. And here endeth the bits I can share with the world.

See? I mentioned it would only be amusing to me.

Chicken - if you're reading this - Ahoy Sailor! or whatever the Army equivalent is.