So, Friday night I met Catherinette and Foxy out at a restaurant named for a number by a certain park in the city. (I’m being coy for the search engines folks.) Like the total rockstar I am, I had fallen asleep on the couch earlier in the evening and Catherinette became concerned upon learning this news and ordered me to get dressed and exit the apartment immediately. My version of immediately is a little slow, so I was really late. But I got there. And I even parked my own car. Take that!

Anyway, Foxy turned into a pumpkin at an early hour but Catherinette and I partied on like good little soldiers. After much discussion we headed to another part of town to a bar neither one of us usually frequents. And after Friday night, likely we never will again.

First of all, it was loud. But we totally knew that was coming, so we were mellow about the situation. We got inside, shoved our way past two couples who were perhaps about to have a very intimate moment in the middle of the bar, and made our way upstairs. We finally shoved into a room that was slightly less crowded and made our way over to the bar. Beers in hand we were starting to feel a bit better about the situation and had gotten to the serious business of mocking the other patrons. There were bad fashion choices and even worse dancing skills. In one notable case, we found ourselves unable to look away. The horrible moves were mesmerizing. And hilarious.

All was well and good until the bar fights started. First there was beer all over the floor, then there was a pile of men duking it out. The bad dancer even stopped dancing so he could take in the scene. The staff broke it up, we shrugged a little, and went back to our beers. That’s when the second fight went down. More men on the floor… this time dangerously close to where we stood. And the bad dancer started cheering this time. The music was turned off, the lights came on, and security was paged. We downed the remainder of our beers and got out of dodge with a resolution never to return. Which was renewed when we scurried past the police on the way out.

Yes folks, that’s right. It is nothing but KLASSY when we go out together. You know you want in on this action.