Saturday night was the Kenny concert. I'll say now...I love that dude. I don't care that he does not meet the 6'2 height requirement I've enacted (speaking of which...I just had a random thought. I need one of those height thingys they have at amusement parks..."must be X tall to ride this ride". Okay maybe not. Get your f-ing mind out of the gutter). I don't care that my friend Lowel is convinced he's gay. I love him: I love his music. I love his attitude. And yes, his tractor is damn sexy. Back on track here...so I went to the concert with my brother and 2 of his friends. All 25 year old single men. In theory, it was going to fun night. I have after all honed my ability to drink quite a bit, not make a complete fool of myself and not be hungover the next day (tired...yes! Hungover...no!). We had to planned to make a total night of it so I was prepared. I could certainly keep up with their drinking, but could not keep up with their ADD hormones. They insisted we go to PBR after the concert. That was fun for 20 minutes. I ran into a good friend (who is my age) and her crew. She knew I was drunk. I knew she was drunk. We convinced each other riding the bull would be a good idea. Not so much. I'm apparently not 25 and I have a bruise the size of Vermont on my left shin to prove it (although I did stay on for quite a while...mostly because I knew falling off would hurt worse than any muscle soreness from hanging on for dear life). My friends had to smarts to get out of that bar and go elsewhere. I on the other hand had a few 25 year olds that had found 'dates'.
The bar slowly but surely turned into a 25 year old 'fest' of sorts. I realized a long time ago that while it's fun to find someone at a bar to flirt with/dance with/etc., it's just not my thing anymore. Again....I'm not 25. At one point I walk over to my brother not realizing he was standing behind this roped off area. He was just standing in this group of people looking like a fool. I asked what the hell he was doing and he told me he had "snuck" into the VIP area and Miranda Lambert was on the couch 7 feet from him. Are you kidding me? First off all, the VIP area was a 10x5 corner roped off with nylon ropes that looked like ones you use to tie down a recliner to the bed of your pick up. Again, a thrill if you're 25...but as previously mentioned, I am not 25.
I could go on and on, but you get the point. Being 25 was great. I enjoyed the hell out of it. But being 32 (in my opinion) is much better. Yes, the hangovers hurt more (but if you've been able to perfect your drinking skills like I have, you rarely get them!). Yes...going out and getting 'crazy' just doesn't have the same meaning. I have much more fun going to someplace a little more mellow and sitting on the patio having drinks. Old? No! Mature? Yes. And waking up in some random persons hotel room...completely overrated. (I should probably clarify this last statement...I did not wake up in a random hotel room...that would be one of the 25 year olds I was with).
So apparently I am not 25 and apparently, I like it just fine! :)
1 comment:
i'm right there with you sister on the 25 vs. 32 debate. my recent wake up call? i'd much rather pay for a hotel room myself than try to 'save money' and share a room with as many people as we can cram in it. um, really? i don't think so.
but you must teach me this hangover avoidance trick because good lord, they are a bitch!
love your updates. xo
Post a Comment