White lies and white jeans...

So I've got this amazing habit...or bad habit...I think it's a habit. I'm not really sure. Whatever. Go.

When I get drunk, I lie. I tell the most creative, enlightening back stories that people ask me about the next day and I stare blankly into the distance and smile. Now they're not big lies and rarely about other people. To demonstrate, we'll play a game.

Two Truths and a Lie: Birthday Edition.

1) It was my birthday over the weekend and I had a blast!
2) Having a delayed-by-24-hours hangover is a horrible way to start a work week.
3) I am a swinger with my friend Hallie and we go to bars to pick up other couples for loving.


Any guesses?

Spoiler alert: 1 and 2 are absolutely true and 3 is the lie I told on Saturday night.

Why? I have no idea. Probably because I saw an old pal the night before and we used to use that one as well. You really get to know people when you present yourself that way. Think of it like those old Vegas commercials with the ladies in the bathrooms exchanging wigs. Know the one?

So here's why that's not always awesome:

Some people HATE swingers. Usually, I go with accountant who hobbies as a taxidermist. Folks don't ask too many questions about that one...or they ask A LOT of questions about that one. I'm fine either way.

Well on Saturday, a guy got very upset that we were "perverts." Woah woah woah there judgy. What if that wasn't a lie...that is such a common practice that when you Google "swinging," the childhood activity isn't even mentioned in the first few results. All adult themed:

Google search: Swinging

However, McJudgerson turned into McShittypants real quick. He kept following us around trying to get us to leave the bar because of it. Even when we told him it was all BS he then got mad us for lying to him. What? Then he got confused as to why he was mad and starting splitting his story between us being sick and us being assholes. Which I'll give him assholes, we are. But I could not believe how he would not let it go.

Needless to say I did not care for him and we probably should have just left the bar but it was my birthday weekend and I wasn't doing anything anybody else wanted me to do. My time, my friends, my weekend. We ended up staying until the bar closed...but guess who was outside in the cab line! Nailed it. That guy.

The night gets a little hazy from there but we should probably find out how we got there in the first place, eh?


Friday night:
Birthday party at the Bar Celona, my favorite bar. Best part? Denim themed. And people showed up in some INSANE outfits (Buckles). We were so awesome that the bar picked up a lot, and I mean A LOT of the tab. So big shout out to them. Thank you!

Note: Even the guys in the background had denim on. We took over the place.

To make it easier and to go as a smaller group into the big group, I had some people meet me at my place then walk over...but instead of Happy Birthday, somehow The Phantom of the Opera got sung. So well, in fact, my neighbors clapped when were done...from next door. Not a joke.


The Phantom of the Opera


It was like that only ours was 1000x better...obviously. We had just shotgunned some Miller Lites. Roommate Meredith sang the super high ending, without warming up and killed it.

My friends told me that after arriving I didn't stop smiling the whole night. I believe it. I have great friends.

Jump to Saturday morning with random people scattered about my apartment.

We went to the kickass Chipotle Cultivate Festival in Lincoln Park...kind of expensive, but well worth it! We had a great afternoon of food and beer. This dog fell in love with me. Seriously, someone has pictures of us spooning. (Note: Not my dog.)

I, in typical MC fashion, made some friends along the way that day. I didn't get any pictures with them, but they'll show up later.

We head back to my place to snatch the rest of the stragglers who couldn't deal with the schedule of the day, watched a movie and grabbed dinner at the finest Thai restaurant Lakeview East has to offer:

Joy's Noodles and Rice

This is where our new friends come to meet us...Nick, Evan and Oliver. Delightful chaps. Nick if you ever read this, sorry I kept calling you a hippie and telling you to pull your pants up...but come on man, no lower than than the hips.


Back to the Bar Celona! Fish bowls! Shots! Drinks! Free drinks! Expensive drinks! WE DRINK ALL THE DRINKS.

Then...they...close at 2am?

I always forget that part and upon seeing our sour demeanor, the staff invites us to go with them to another bar. It's a fun place called Stout and wouldn't you know it, we walk in and meet this lovely looking couple waiting in line for a drink...


Sunday. Ouch. O'Hare airport. Parents house. Nap. Dinner. Ouch. To go plate. Win. Home to bed.
Monday. Up at 5:30. Still ouch. Awful work day...but come home to this:

GREAT. WEEKEND.