Suburban Rowdy

I should preface this with a disclaimer.  This post is not about Morgan.  It’s about what happens when two people in their mid thirties have a night away from their child.

Some ridiculously awesome good friends of ours invited us out on Saturday. On a double date. With no children. We had plans for sushi and quality time but we got so.much.more. As a family who lives in the suburbs, a night on the town is a big deal.  Our evenings generally consist of yard work and play dough, with the occasional bedtime battle and an extra glass of wine.  But this weekend, we got full on rowdy.

We started with beers, which then led to barbecue chicken pizza, which then led to more beer.  This then led to buffalo wings that were so hot I cried (no lie), which then, of course, led to more beer.  At some point, we decided we needed to move on to sushi, which of course led to more beer. Are you sensing a theme here?

At some point in our late night wisdom, we decided a little karaoke was in order.  So we drove (without beer), to a little lounge on the outskirts of town.  Did you know that some Denny’s restaurants have a lounge attached to them?  Aptly named “Denny’s Lounge” – You can totally belt out a little Journey while enjoying your Moons Over My Hammy.  Pass me the ketchup…and my microphone. 

I don’t karaoke.  No amount of liquid courage is going to convince me that my singing resembles anything other than nails on a chalkboard.  Not to mention that one of our friends is a professional (like has her own CD) and sounds like an actual jukebox when she sings.  Totally intimidating.  David, on the other hand, was ready to try out for American Idol.  Two hours later, we shut the place down, complete with Jon Bon Jovi and several rounds of air guitar.  As we walked to our car, David and his buddy stopped everyone on their way out the door, hugging the bouncer, the bartender, and even briefly embracing the guy they met in the men’s room.  Not at all awkward.

There’s a small piece of me that wishes we had more than one photo to show for our night on the town, but a much bigger piece of me is grateful we didn’t leave behind more evidence.  And no, I'm not showing you our new tattoos.