Phil came over to the house with a half bottle of bourbon. We took a couple of shots of that before setting out to the night.
We arrived at the Prospector for karaoke. Downed a beer pretty quickly, then sang "Don't Dream It's Over" (which, I believe, is a song only Neil Finn can actually sing). Drank another beer and left for Alex's
Got to Alex's, had another beer and inexplicably, a shot of tequila. This was pretty much the end of the night. Does that mean we stopped? Oh no.
Max's Steiner, the bar across the street from Alex's that has always had an air of scariness to it for some reason. After leaving the huddled masses of Alex's, it was weird to come into a nearly deserted bar. I ordered a beer and Phil and I began chatting up the bartender about who knows what. As the bar is closing, one guy asks for a Wisconsin Lunch Box and so the bartender begins to make one for him and herself. I must now yell out, "What the hell is a Wisconsin Lunch Box?" And so the bartender replies by asking if we want one. The smart answer at this point would've been, "No, I'm way too drunk as it is." But, that's not how I roll. So, she pours a half glass of beer with some orange juice, gives us a shot of amaretto and we drop it in and slam it.
After that, we got Del Taco somehow and I sat on my bathroom floor for a while and tried to be quiet going to bed which didn't work in any way. And pretty much chalked up Saturday in the loss column.
