We went to Pueblo Solis for the guac. Which even though it's the "best in the Midwest," Shelly still said mine was better.
And, of course, you can't go to a Mexican place after work on a Friday without having margaritas.
Alright, you've got me, the margaritas might have been on our minds before we got there.
From here on out, well, things get interesting.
First, the girls named my purse. Funky Brewster. I love it. I want them to name all my purses. I think that they should have little nicknames, and be introduced at social hours.
Next, we ordered strawberry margaritas. Sounds like a good idea, right?
Well, it would have been if there'd been any ... um... what's that stuff, that you want to have in margaritas, on Fridays after work, when you're trying to relax and unwind? Oh yeah. ALCOHOL. It was a pitcher of slushies. Tasty, sugary, $25 slushies, but slushies.
Then, we made this list:
And yes, it's written on the back of a reciept. And it's entitled "Signs of Drunkenness." Number one is "Dead Homie Juice." You may ask yourself, "What the hell is Dead Homie Juice?"
Remember how gangsta's pour one out for their dead homies? Well, we had a bunch of gross watery margarita at the bottom of our glasses... and we poured it all together, and said it was for our dead homies. Don't ask about which dead homies in particular - I'm pretty sure that none of us suburban white girls have any dead homies.
So, since there was no one to save the dead homie juice for, we drank it.
But, all good things must come to an end, and we all had things to do, so we split up.
Not before the girls had another margarita, though...
Maybe that should have been included on the list of "Signs of Drunkenness," but... I don't really know how to describe it. I LOVE it, I just can't describe it.
Now, we'd eaten at Pueblo Solis, but that doesn't stop me from doing anything. Around 9, I walk with my husband and another friend to Bar Italia and sit outside, drinking pinot grigio and eating delicious Italian food. I would have taken a picture of my caprese salad, but, um, I was too busy eating it. I did manage to take a picture of my second favorite thing about Bar Italia (behind the caprese), the espresso martini.
Seriously, they're like heaven. The foam, the surgary coffee liquor, the floating coffee bean, the hard-to-spill martini glasses...
And on the walk home from Bar Italia, we're stopped by friends finishing up eating outside the Drunken Fish. We stop and join them, and the drunk structural engineer at the table builds this:
I have no words.
And, as always, there are more pictures on the Flickr account.
Also, since I haven't lately told you that I'm a goddess in the kitchen, Hi! I'm a goddess in the kitchen, and I'm making this for dinner tonight.