The night started out okay, mostly because I just laughed at everyone around me. For example, the girl who wore a bra to the bar. (I tweeted about this and never have I ever gotten more mentions. Every guy who follows me tweeted back, "Pics?!" You guys are sick.)
There was also the cougar who whistled and growled at every guy who did karaoke. She took the feline reference to the next level by making a man rub her stomach. Seriously.
Possibly my favorite part of the night, though, was eavesdropping on a conversation between two women from Michigan and a 40-year-old "personal trainer" (which I think might have been slang for "unemployed"). Since the music was so loud, no one could really hear anyone talk. One of the women asked the man what the rubber bracelet he was wearing meant. He said, "It's for my friend who passed away." At which point, the ladies started cracking up, like cackling and howling, and then yelled, "What are the colors for? The Red Sox? Are those Red Sox colors?" No, like his friend died, so.
I could barely breathe.
I ended up meeting a Jewish musician, which was exciting since that's essentially the perfect combination of character traits, in my opinion. However, while he initially seemed interesting and charming, it soon became very evident that he was crazy. Like certifiably. Let me just say that if someone wants to know if you're "sane," that is a clear indication that they are mentally unstable and you should run away immediately.
Which is what I did. I spent 15 minutes hiding in the bathroom sending cries for help to my friend.
Finally, we were able to flee the bar, but not before some kid yelled "Hey Daria!" at me. Although I do love that show, and my guy friends have also called me Daria on occasion (thanks, assholes), I was absolutely livid when I heard this. I have never given anyone a dirtier look in my life. I overheard his friend say, "Dude, I think she's going to hit you." I wish I did. That would have really rounded out the night.