Friday night, I had dinner with a friend and due to the fact that my conversion chart for piss water beer to microbrew beer is incorrect (and the fact that I was nervous), I drank far too many beers. I mean, in my normal world, four beers will give me a pleasant buzz, but nothing stupendous. But, four “Monkey Punch” IPA’s apparently lands me on my drunk ass.
I also may have ordered too many because I was having too much fun miming a Monkey Punch to the server, which was basically an upper cut, but with really bad form followed by a weird sort of glee squirm after I had mimed the Monkey Punch.
Well, I left the restaurant not really noticing how drunk I was and drove (I know, I know, bad me) to King Soopers, because that’s what logical, totally sober people do at 10:30 on a Friday night.
When I slid out of my car, the dress I was wearing must have rolled up and got caught under my jacket unbeknownst to me.
And I spent a good 10 minutes wandering around King Soopers.
That’s right; I spent my Friday night wandering around a King Soopers with my cheeks showing. I’m very lucky that my coat covers most of my ass.
How do I know that this happened? Because on my to the cash register to check out, I absentmindedly reached around to my back just to check my dress and it was not covering the area it was supposed to be covering.
So, to all of the stock boys and homeless men that I may have offended/elated by inadvertently mooning them, I’m sorry/you’re welcome.