I hope Murtaugh is wrong

17 Jan

This past weekend forced me to wonder if, in the words of Sergeant Roger Murtaugh,  I was “too old for this shit“.  (And yes, I’m aware that referencing a movie with a 1987 release date probably already answers my question…)  But here’s the story anyway.

I should probably start by pointing out that I really do not like going out on Fridays.  I’ll stay out with you until all hours of the night Saturday through Thursday but there is something I just adore about going home directly from the office on Fridays.  I crawl into bed, order takeout or heat up leftovers, put my phone on silent and hit play on my Tivo.  It’s perfect.

So you can imagine the shock to my system when I found myself among the city’s many commuters at Grand Central Station this past Friday, White Plains bound with two of the girls (and a few station purchased beers which seemed very necessary in the moment…)  Less than an hour later we were at our friend’s place, marveling at the size of her apartment and mixing vodka sodas.  More drinks downtown led to chatting it up with a group of guys who were celebrating their friend’s 41st birthday (with a stripper pole in their party bus- classy) and then the inevitable: we discovered the birthday boy was from Buffalo.  And everyone at home in the Southtowns will appreciate this – he grew up in Hamburg!  Really…what are the chances?!   For those of you not lucky enough to call Western New York home, Hamburg is two towns over from where my mom lives, and where I went to high school.  The usual WNY banter ensued!

The thing I forget, not being a commuter myself (unless you count my 11 block and 1 avenue walk to work every morning a “commute”…), is that there’s such a thing as “the last train”.  And ours was at 1:17 am.  Realizing just how much fun a few of our friends had had (read: how drunk they were), we convinced a cab driver to take us back to the city for $20 each.  Once we knew our little party’ers were home safely, my best friend and I soberly looked at each other and declared “drinks!”  (Okay, technically we came to this conclusion during the drive back to the city with one girl passed out and the other chatting up the driver…but besides the point.)  We walked into one of our favorite neighborhood bars – literally our very own version where everybody knows your name – at about 2 am.  Pickle back shots were lined up before we even had our coats off.  Many shots, many beers and a few karaoke songs later, we finally decided to head out when the lights came on.  You know, indicating that the bar was closed.  Because it was after 4 am.

Except my night wasn’t quite over.  Instead I met up with a friend of the man persuasion for another drink.  And a sleepover.  We spent Saturday morning and afternoon napping and chatting; making out; complaining about the light streaming through the blinds; and ultimately turning the volume up on iTunes when we heard my roommate finally walk through the front door.  (For the record, I’m still not entirely sure where she was all night…)

A quick goodbye around 3:30 pm or so on Saturday afternoon and I had less than an hour to meet up with friends for football at McFadden’s.  Not Bills football.  Obviously.  Don’t be cruel.

Knowing my body wasn’t ready for that first beer, I nursed a spicy bloody mary for a while and then finally felt a shot of social energy return.  Thank god for my girlfriend who asked how my “cuddle time” had been in front of one of the guys who apparently asked if I might be interested in him.  I am not.  At all.  (Key learning: we always think we’re just “one of the guys” but, let’s face it, we’re not…)  The Saints / 49ers game was insanely exciting, and aided by a few “pick me up” shots (beer and amaretto- don’t knock it until you’ve tried it!), I was pretty golden for the afternoon…or at least more golden than someone going on two, maybe three, hours of sleep should have been.  Exhaustion eventually taking over (that is not a complaint), I left our second bar of the day during halftime of the next game, putting the Patriots/Broncos back on in my bedroom as soon as I got home.  There happened to be a commercial on as I crawled into bed, but in all honestly don’t even remember the game coming back from break.  Not that I missed much.  I woke up Sunday morning to a text from one of the girl’s boyfriends, who had joined the crew later: “U suck”.  Wait.  Am I too old for this shit…?!

Well, being too old wasn’t an option on Sunday because the girls and I had a friend visiting from Syracuse for the sole objective of watching the remaining playoff games.  Given that I had gone to bed at what is probably the average bedtime of most 8-year-olds the night before, I popped out of bed at 7 am (which was good because I was able to get a lot done – like catch up on my Tivo – before heading out for the 1 pm game.).  Fueled by a whole wheat bagel and Hoegaarden (oh sorry, what do you drink with your breakfast?!)  but bored to tears by the Houston/Baltimore, and nearly homicidal during the Green Bay/Giants game, I’m lucky I pulled through.  There is nothing worse than watching your imaginary boyfriend favorite quarterback lose to the New York Giants.  Green Bay definitely didn’t look like a 15-1 team and how many times did Aaron Rodgers have to run for the first down?  Four, five…?  Wait, don’t get me started…

Ending the weekend with ZERO teams that I was rooting for advancing to the championship games, at least I got to see Rodgers’ new commercial.  Repeatedly.  And he is looking fiiiiine.

Raaawr!!  (Okay, I really need to stop.  This isn’t healthy anymore…)

Following The Golden Globes (with Mob Wives commercial breaks) back at one of the girls’ apartment, we eventually called it a night.

Committed to a self-imposed detox, the highlight (and only activity) of my day on our holiday Monday was a mani/pedi/massage.  I went for an outrageous pedi color from the Nicki Minaj line through OPI: Fly.  I mean, I figured no one is really going to see it anyway.  Well, almost no one.  I chose something slightly more appropriate for my fingers: Essie’s Absolutely Shore.  And then hid from the world from the safety of my bed, watching season two of Boardwalk Empire (sooo good!) all afternoon.  Well, except to text my girlfriend every time I caught sight of my toes and jumped.  She got the same color….and was doing the same!

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