That's mortifying.

So I went out drinking last night with some friends with the full extent of getting ourselves into some crazy shenanigans, as usual. The drink specials were about as amazing as they would ever be, and my rich friend insisted that she pay for absolutely everything. Of course, I fought her offers and paid for all of my own drinks. Well, okay, that was a lie. I let her pay for me. Really though, who am I to turn down a chauvenist? Anyway, she drinks like a fiend and her motto is "no one goes thirsty!" So whenever SHE would finish her drink, she would immediately go for a refill. Which means she would bring back a refill for everyone else too, regardless if we were actually done with our current drink or not. At one point, I was juggling three different alcoholic beverages - one in each hand, and the third resting against my hands and my chest to keep it in place while I dramatically chugged the others. This isn't really the point of the story though. Just kind of setting the scene.

Anyway, we got into some fun, as you could imagine, and did some karaoke. And when I say "some karaoke," I really mean we hogged the stage and sung about half of the song selection book. At some point during this embarassing escapade, I heard someone call my name out while I was on stage singing some random Kings of Leon song. I looked up from the television kindly shooting me the lyrics and peered off into the sea of other drunk idiots. You'd never guess who it was, so I'm just going to go ahead and tell you: it was my sixth grade teacher. What he was doing in Fort Wayne, let alone a night club, is totally beyond me. I didn't even think to ask him after I got off the stage when we completed the song and he pulled me over to exclaim how great we did at the ballad. I thanked him and attempted to scurry away, telling him that I was three seconds away from peeing my pants. But nope, the bathroom excuse didn't work on this clever guy. I guess he probably hears that excuse all the time since he teaches sixth graders, but I don't know. He offered to buy drinks for my friends and I, but I told him no thanks. Uh, okay, that was another lie. I let him buy them for us. Again, who am I to pass up my sixth grade teacher buying shots?

After we poured the shots down our throats, I ran off real quick to actually use the bathroom. No excuses this time - it was finally time to empty the bladder. This means that I ditched my friends and essentially told them to hang out with the guy while I was gone ... and I didn't have all that many intentions on returning to them anytime soon. I mean, come on. My sixth grade teacher in a bar in Fort Wayne buying shots for my friends? That's just a little weird, and I don't really like it. Mmm, another lie. I liked that he bought the shots, but did not like that he was there and chatting with us. I mean, right? Weird.

What a way to end this blog.