The Bean Blog

Lori’s 40th Birthday

Nov 16, 2009 A day in our life

Last week my friend Lori turned 40. When we were little kids we thought 40 was very, very, very old. Heck when I graduated from high school my parents weren’t even 40 yet. (My mom was about to turn 37 and my dad about to turn 39). So 40? Wow! That was way over the hill. Practically rolling in to the next valley.

But now as we approach this magical 40 number it doesn’t seem so old anymore. Now it seems fun. It seems more mature. It seems wiser.

At least it did until Saturday night.

Saturday night we slapped on our high heels and hit the town like we were still in our 20’s. But the town hit right back.

We planned a big party for Lori. She’s the first of our tight knit group to hit the big 4-0 so we wanted to welcome it with a bang. We invited all of her besties and their significant others and ordered a party bus for the night. We gathered at a local bar for some greasy grub before making our way on a citywide bar hop extravaganza.

On the way across town to the first bar we did Tequila Rose shots. And we chugged back a birthday cake shot as we sang Happy Birthday to Lori. Lori was dressed in her birthday hat, a couple of “40″ blinking pins, an old lady necklace with some oil of old age, and her granny cane. Bring on the bars.

The first bar he hit was dead. There was maybe 20 people in the whole bar. Including the bartender and waitress. We made quite a spectacle as we jumped off our party bus and came roaring through the doors. As we were finding some tables to sit at a guy came up to find out what was going on. He was this young kid (29) who looked like a younger, thinner Vince Vaughn. He could seriously be Vince’s little brother. We might need to run a DNA test to confirm.

So lil Vince came over and offered to buy us all shots. “What shot do you want?” he asked. And we were silent. I know, right? A group of ten girls who were completely silent. You know that shit never happens.

Finally I yelled out, “Cherry bombs.” And somebody else yelled out, “Blowjobs.” So, of course, blowjobs it was. I mean the drink anyway.

I’ve never had a blowjob before. [And now I'm envisioning the traffic hits I'm going to get on this post.] Nobody told me you can’t use your hands. You’re supposed to pick your shot glass up with your mouth.

There are two things so wrong with that. (1) Have you seen how they wash glasses in a bar. They don’t really. They just swoosh them around in a [dirty] water filled basin. Um…YUCK! And (2) I have an itty bitty mouth. I can’t get my mouth around a freaking shot glass. My friend Misti was trying to show me the way. “Just use your lips,” she instructed. But I couldn’t even get my lips around that thing. Clearly I suck at blowjobs. [That'll teach my mom to read this blog.] So I cheated and used my hands.

When we were done with our blowjobs it was time for the next bar.

The next bar was so crowded we could barely get in the door. And it was filled with tons and tons of white people. I don’t mean that in a color of their skin kind of way. I mean they were dressed in white from head to toe. Apparently it was some kind of Blizzard event. I have no idea what that even means. But apparently it means you put on every piece of white clothing you own and go to the bar. People in Iowa, man. They’ll make up an excuse for a drink.

You’d think a blizzard would be chilly, but no. It was like a sauna in that bar so we headed out quickly to the next bar.

And that’s when the trouble started. Our friend Dannelle drove all the way from Chicago for this party. And she didn’t even make it past 11pm. By the third bar she was felling a little queasy. And she was a little unstable on her feet. At one point I was holding on to her to make sure she stayed upright. Until she ventured for the bathroom to throw up.

But, like they say, it ain’t a party until somebody throws up. And now we had a party.

After some dancing (not me) and karaoke (sure as hell not me), we headed back to the bus. On the way out we passed a guy standing next to his car. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what he was doing. We yelled, “Are you peeing? For realz?”

And just as he was saying “sure am” our friend Jen took a tumble. She was so busy harassing this guy about peeing in public that she missed a crack in the parking lot and went head over ass on to the pavement. She really should join the circus because that was a helluva acrobatic act.

After we were done taking pictures and laughing at her (’cause we’re good friends like that) we helped her up and in to the bus.

So there we were. Only 3 bars in to the night. Already had one puking. And one hurting.

And we did what any good respectable friends would do. We left their asses on the bus and headed in to the next bar.

Thankfully, the rest of the night was relatively calm. It was just a great night with some of the greatest girls ever. And it ended with pancakes at IHOP. You just can’t ask for a better night then that.

Happy 40th Birthday Lori! I can’t wait to celebrate the next 50 birthdays with you. Although we might have to get a little tamer in our old age.

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Tags: 40th birthday, birthday, birthday party, celebration, party, party bus