Daddy's Little Girl...

So I went out to dinner with my dad last night for his birthday. Only person I know that pays for his own birthday dinner but I didn't exactly fight over the cheque so I guess that makes me a bad person. However, was very surprised to learn that my dad thinks I'm angelic. He thinks I may throw my bra onto the ice at Hockey Games but that I'm angelic nonetheless.

We were discussing Vancouver & how are they going to clean up certain areas for the olympics because quite frankly, the downtown east side is one of the sketchiest areas in North America. I comment that people from New York come here & think.. damn, now this is scary..... My dad commented that the VPD have visited New York to see how they cleaned up Times Square & brought that under control in order to help clean up Granville Street.

Ok, yes, granville street is dingy but the night time bar crowd is nothing more chaotic then anywhere else there is a 'party' district. I say this. I tell him that seeing as I live 2 blocks away, I am on Granville Street all the time. My dad retorts back with "Yes, but you're not out til 2-3 in the morning drinking.... "

Pause for canned laughter.

NO!!! no, I'm not out til 2-3 in the morning nor do I drink. I looked at the step monster & she's also laughing because at least out of the 2 people at the table, she's met me. That or I'm new.

Because if he had only known how my weekend went down, he may sing a different tune. You see, Jammer flew into town originally for only the Flames game on saturday night (I HATE it when Flame's fans are justified in being so smug... wait til playoffs bitches) but we also managed to make it down to the Wine Festival at the Convention Centre.

For those of you that don't know, it's $75 and 3 hours of tasting wine from all around the world with an emphasis on Australian wine. It ends up being a wine shooting event & you always leavea little blurry. Still can't get behind port. Anyways, after the festival, we congregated down at Yagger's with others that weren't at the festival.... after a couple of drinks, I thought it best if I met up with Capt'n Jess and the crew for her birthday. I hauled my ass over the bridge into Kits to just find out that we were going BACK downtown which found us ending up at the Moose.

Dan, the manager, bought us a round of shooters (yey!) However, this spawned a chain reaction. Some random guy thought it was great that we were doing shooters & bought us 6 subsequent rounds. I kept trying to explain to people that I had been to the festival that evening & all they would answer back is "that's impressive". Uh-huh.. great... Is it so impressive that I can't see right now? Furniture Man: The sequal was in town & met up with us. I grabbed him off the street and in the block walk up to the Moose, I managed to smack him 3x in the face. Whe the moose's lights came on.. the group of us moved ourselves over to the cellar. It's here where I ran away. I surface from the bar (it's the cellar, the bar is underground), and get a text from Dutch friend saying if I want to watch Family Guy to bring pizza so off I go.

I woke the next day confused as to why I moved my couch against the window before I realized I wasn't home. So I go home only to be picked up by Brutal, Bell & Jammer to go for breakfast & to start another shit storm of a day and it's only 830am. I did manage to get in a snooze here & there but by noon, you found me back in my friend's back yard cracking a new beer.. hey it was better then being hung over and after about the third one I really was feeling awesome.
That night.. not so much but then yes.

So I suppose my father was right... I don't go home at 2-3 in the morning. I just choose to not go home & that way everyone wins... Well, everyone except my liver. Princess Nalini and I are in agreement, if he had any idea of what went down at New Year's, he'd probably have an aneurism.