Wrong Place For The Final Four

As most of you know, the Final Four was here in Hotlanta this weekend. Unfortunately, I ended up getting smashed Thursday night, and had no interest in partying at all last weekend. My main goal was to stay at home on my couch and watch basketball while sipping a glass of tepid water and clutching my blanket. But things never work out that way.

I ended up getting a call from a girl who lives in North Georgia (MtGirl*) who wanted to hit a cool bar and grill in Kennesaw. I wasn't interested until I realized she wanted to go to Olde Towne. I love Olde Towne. The blackclad waitstaff there are so friendly and hot you want to bang 90% of them... and the other 10% want to bang you. Things were fine until MtGirl and I were introduced to the 10%... a large blonde girl whose massive white cleavage was impossible to ignore against the darkness of the room and her clothes. Even more so when she approached our booth carrying my soup, leaved over towards me and in a deep sultry voice proclaimed, "Here's your chilli." That line became the quote of the night.

MtGirl was pissed. It seemed that display was a cap on a rough week for her at work, and she wanted to get drunk quick. She was insisting on some froo-foo drink and nothing on the drink menu seemed to suffice. I finally told our hot waitress to mix MtGirl a drink I came up with in college. It was a shot of Southern Comfort, a shot of Peach Schnapps, mixed in cranberry juice. I called it a "Southern Hospitality**." She drank it and loved it. We then learned from the bartender it is actually known as a variant on a "Liquid Valium." Then MtGirl ordered six more. And a shot of Liquid Cocaine, which tastes strangely just like a Third Reich (Goldschlager, Jagermeister, and Rumpelmintz).

About 40 minutes later, MtGirl is bouncing off the walls, and hitting on random guys to try to make me jealous. Given that I was planning to stick her with the bill if she did anything too stupid, her plans to rouse me failed - and then the violence started. I kinda lost it, and turned from laid-back-going-to-get-laid Coletrain into don't-fuck-with-me Coletrain. After she saw the change, she wanted to go home, and I made sure she got there fine, without following her inside. Which worked out, because she ended up puking all night and next morning. Awesome.

If I knew I was going to be having this much fun, I would have went downtown with the Florida folks.

*Bonus points to whoever can get the reference.
**In case you are reading this, did the Valium/Southern Hospitality effect you the same way?