It's Just a Saturday Night

Befriending 20-something mommy bloggers has its perks.  Like they invite you to bachelorette girls night out.

@VDog was taking her non-blogging friend out to celebrate her impending wedding and invited CityMama™ LaraDavid and Cat to join the bride's mom and a couple of her friends currently living in the bay area to join the fun.

We started out at La Trappe and enjoyed frites, Chimay white beer and other delicacies.  Then it was off to karaoke.  One of the bride's friends was recovering from a broken ankle and I was wearing the 4 inch stiletto coughme pumps so the bride, mom, broken ankle friend and I opted to attempt to flag down a cab while the others hoofed it for what turned out to be maybe about 10 blocks.

We were having no luck securing a cab when a stretch limo pulled up.  We quickly negotiated a fee of "whatever you want to tip me" in exchange for our ride.  We piled into the limo and met the two lovely young professional tourists and limo riders already riding in the limo.  The driver then began to regale us with his humor.  He told us repeatedly that he loved us, that he was drunk and that he stopped to give us a ride because we looked homeless.  Oh and that his ass is skinny.  He asked the name of the girl who got into the limo last with the big "nostrils."  Um that would be me sporting the cleavage.  Previously we had decided that after a particularly cleavage-licious shot of @QueenofSpain boobs would euphemistically be referred to as hats.  Thus my tweet that nostrils are the new hats.  Or boobs.  Call 'em what you will.

I deftly avoided giving my name to the lovingly drunk skinny-assed driver by referring to myself as "friend of penis veil" because the bride-to-be was wearing her bachelorette gift of a veil adorned with tiny penises that, from a distance, looked like roses.

While we were enjoying Mr. Skinny Asses' wild ride, we passed the walking portion of our group.  Stopped at a light I screamed out the window "VDog" got their attention and then shouted "#suckit bitches" as we rode off to who knows where.  Finally we turned, stopped randomly in Chinatown and hopped out of the limo and the driver and the lovely blonde ladies continued their journey through the streets of San Francisco.  After wandering up and down the unmarked streets and alleys, consulting a map and making some SWAGs we finally found the Bow Bow Lounge where we would be singing karaoke.

The proprietress behind the bar was charming with her kind greetings, stiff drinks and participation in the fun by knocking back the tequila shots she had lined up at the end of the bar.  I sat at the end next to the dudes watching the Olympics and brazenly defying the law and smoking while enjoying their Hennessey bottle service.

The bar was long and skinny with just enough room to shimmy past the bar stools to the other end to karaoke.  As the lyrics scrolled from bottom to top over tinny synth backing tracks set to video of wistful Asian ladies wandering from parking sign to parking sign, we took turns singing - our group trading off with drunk girl, proprietor dude and tone deaf dude serenading his fiance with oh so appropriate tunes like "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For."  Say what?

Although the karoke is fun here, it's no Pop Inn (@allaboutgeorge hipped me to Alameda's finest) where they take their karoke seriously with an extensive selection, organized by both song and artist, and easier to follow along with lyrics and more like the actual song backing tracks, thus my tweet about my even greater respect for the joint.

After some of our group were driven away by the smoke, our hearty remaining band made friends with a nice group of touristy frat boys from Long Island.  As they valiantly attempted to flirt with the bride-to-be and Victoria who is married to "Pierre" (warning: inside joke - no, you don't get it) we convinced them that they were better off wandering up Columbus Ave to find more happening bars or perhaps strip clubs. 

Finally the night came to an end and I was grateful that Victoria and the remaining ladies did not kill me for hobbling back the 10 blocks or so on the by now painful pumps (but, hey, the platform makes them only feel like 3") and holding us down to a good 0.5 miles per hour.

So another surreal night out (2 in a one month span!) courtesy of crazy young mommy bloggers.  They really are the most fun.

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y Night!