Now that the weekend is becoming less shameful of a memory, I think I'm ready to blog about it. Saturday night, in particular, was one of those nights where you wake up the next morning, look at the photos, and think "My god, we are far too old for nights like that." In other words, awesome. As long as they don't happen more than once every two months.
Of course there's not much in the way of dignity that you can really expect from a night that essentially *starts* with tequila shots. The entire evening was a shit-show from the moment it commenced, and we quickly found ourselves in this condition:
The last thing I remember is being asked to leave a bar around 3am because I was hanging out in the women's bathroom, chatting away to friends and strangers alike. Fair enough, really.