You're Doing Really Well My Dear

I just got home from a night out on the town with Jacque and I'm still trying to figure out what my favorite part of the night was.

I made Jacque go to Jill's wedding with me. Chris asked us to meet him at Club Rodeo later. Yes. That Club Rodeo.

At the same place I saw male strippers, I would now be watching real live bull riding.

I missed the turn off of Kellogg on the way out there. So I hit the next turn, hoping the access road would go all the way to the street I needed for the Club.

Alas, it did not. As I started to maneuver a three-point turn, Jacque had a better idea. "Look! People have made it work before!"

And it appeared as though they had. Drivers had gone around the road block into the grass and made their way onto the street just a few yards away. "You can do it!"

I looked at the giant ruts in the ground and the big water puddle. "If I get this car stuck, I'm going to kill you!"

I forged ahead and we cried "Go go go!"

And we made it! 'Twas not luck, my friends! Was mad skillz!

I don't drink beer. Never have and probably never will.

I just don't like it, no matter how hard I try. Going out would be so much easier and a whole lot cheaper if I could just get myself to enjoy a nice cold lager. I just can't do it.

So when we walked in, I ordered me a nice Black Russian. Imagine that.

We wat down at a table with Chris and his friends and I noticed my chair was all wobbly. "Maybe your chair is missing a foot." Jacque suggested.

But it appeared more that I was on some kind of hump. I didn't really mind. It made it easier to rock back and forth to the music.

Which was all country. Ugh.

The members of the party grew and Chris brought another table over. He sat it right on the hump.

So of course, I almost dumped the whole table over. "You watch! I'll spill something before the night is over!"

I just knew it would happen. Because, even though I'm like the only person in the world who doesn't drink beer, somehow I'm the only person of the night who ever ends up getting drenched in spilled beer.

I guess there was one time they played Def Leppard. And when the bullriding would start, they'd play that "Are You Ready for This?" song they play at football games.

Growing up in a rural community, I'd been to a few rodeos. So the bullriding wasn't all that exciting for me. Especially since often, the riders were bucked off right out of the gate.

You know. Like I could do better.

We did go up to see the second round close up. On our way back, Jacque grabbed another beer before joining me at our table.

We sat there for awhile before Chris and his crew showed back up. Jacque was turned to me when Chris walked up behind her. She turned around and was startled.

Now let me tell you about the way she reacted to being startled. She didn't just jump. She didn't even let out a little yelp.

Jacque threw her hands to her face and shrieked.

No. It wasn't even a shriek. It was more like a bloodcurdling, horror movie quality scream.

I think I laughed for five mintues.

I laughed so hard, I forgot about the wobbly table. I put my foot down and didn't even realize what I did until I felt the cold splash of beer upon me.

"See? I told you!!!"

I felt bad about spilling Jacque's beer, so I headed to the bar to get her another. She followed me, all the while telling me that I didn't need to buy her another one. "It was an accident!"

I gave her the beer and we started walking away. And then I felt a sharp pain in my foot. I reached down and felt something sticky. It wasn't beer.

I then felt the bottom of my flip flop and felt a big chunk of beer bottle. It was jabbing into my foot.

That right there. That was my favorite part of the night. The part where I got rabies!