Ok so St. Patty's turned out to be a little better than expected. I left work, grabbed a drink with Ben, and then headed into Soho to go to Waxy O'Connor's. Apparently every other person in London who wanted to celebrate St. Patrick's Day had the same idea. There was a line out the door around the corner, but I miraculously found Siobhan and made it in the bar.
Once inside we decided that buying beer large quantities of beer would be the most efficient way to go since the place was so packed, so Sio headed up to get 4 beers. I met her sister Kat who is super sweet and started exclaiming how she LOVES America!! "I LOVE AMERICA! I love the tv shows! I love the cities! I love the people! I LOVE it there!!" I told her we should get her a blue passport because she loves America more than most Americans.
Drink drink drink...Marita comes, I head to the bar to get more beers. I'm standing next to some Irish guy wearing cufflinks waving around a "Preferred customer" card (for Waxy's? seriously? I have one for Rock Bottom, does that mean I'm a big shot? NO) and feeling very important. So he is ordering and I figure great, I'm right next to him, I'll totally get the bartender next. Then I realize that right as Richy McRich is done ordering, his friends come over and whisper more drinks in his ear. After literally 15 Guinesses, 6 rum and cokes and a malibu baybreeze (I'm hoping whoever ordered that was a 18 year old girl because that's the only time its acceptable), he starts to order more and I looked at him and said "SERIOUSLY?!". I got a confused look in return. "I mean, seriously, are you buying drinks for the WHOLE bar?" and he laughed and continued ordering. UGH. FINALLY he is done, and I step it up with more beer and 2 ciders for Marita.
Drink, drink, drink, fake fight with the most ghetto woman I've ever seen, make friends with the manager of the bar, drink. We decide to head out. On the way out, I see Richy McRich closing his tab. £555!!! INSANE! Whatever, if he's such a big shot he would have bought my drinks on his Amex Black, not the frequent buyers card.
Marita and I head out to another bar in Soho where we decide its time for dinner. I take out my phone to call my friend Mike who is in town. Seems simple, right? Not so much:
Ring, ring
Other end of the phone: Hello?
Me: MIKE!! Where are you??
other: This isn't Mike this is Paul (aka my boss in America)
*sh!t*
me: OH! sorry its Katharine-I-dialed-wrong-gotta-go-BYE
This is why you should always store numbers in your phone and not rely on yourself to be able to distinguish two 202 numbers. Thank God it was only like 10 pm and I was quite coherant. Obviously I apologized this morning and he laughed.
So we finish off dinner and then head on our merry ways. I can't wait to see what adventure Paris brings this weekend!!
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5 comments:
a few things:
1. was Richy McRich cute?
2. absofuckinlutely hysterical about paul
3. you are going to paris? bitch.
4. that i had to find all of this out via blog rather than in your e-mail today. boooo....
1. he was cute, but clearly a dbag.
2-4. check your email biotch.
Do you remember when you were young and you guys would ask me about the stuff I did when I was young and dumb? I would always tell you that I didn't remember? I think it's charming that your children have this rich historical record to reference to learn what dear old Mom was like before marriage and motherhood dictated sensible shoes, low-maintenance haircuts, mom-jeans and 2 drink weekends. It'll be fun to watch.
You're going to Paris!!! I'm so jealous! Love the Paul part.
I want to know more about the fake fight with the ghetto chick!
too funny! I love the stories...what did he look like when you "seriously"'d him? must've been great.
Love ya, munchkin, and cant wait to see you again..maybe in London??
( and I think I'm a bit insulted at the 'sensible shoes' comment. My red shoes may be sensible, but they pointy and patent leather red...not dead yet.
Love,
M
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