04.13.07

I am a naughty, naughty woman. Just wanted to get that out so there'd be no confusion.

Went out last night for my friend Tank's girlfriend's birthday bash. Really, there should be a law against going to birthday parties of bartenders. Oy gevalt!

We gathered at Voleur, here in Stumptown, for dinner. Imagine this, a restaurant in the Pacific Northwest that has a large smoking section and a kick-ass menu. Oh, the simple relaxation of the postprandial cigarette at the dining table. No scurrying outdoors to huddle in doorways like pariahs. Huzzah! The restaurant thought it out; the smoking section is an upstairs loft area. Since the smoke rises, keeping downstairs smoke-free is a piece of cake.

The food was good, stick-to-your ribs fare. Entree prices were reasonable; nothing on the menu was above $15. I had the mac and cheese with andouille sausage, and immediately went into a carbo-coma that's still lingering. Oh joy! Of course I had a nice glass of whiskey, purely for medicinal purposes. Gotta keep them arteries open, right?

After dinner, we decamped to the Matador, where Tank's girlfriend works. Half of the bar had been decorated in a SpongeBob Squarepants motif, including a bubble-blowing machine, and a guy dressed up as a shark. Pretty damn funny.

Of course there was the birthday cake, in the form of a huge wedge of Swiss cheese and artfully lit with a wee wax penis candle. Adorable.

D and I sat, trying to digest our lactose-laden meals. Phew. But o-so-worth it. And I got molested under the table. Of course I molested right back, which led to...

...Shameless debauchery in the parking lot of WahferThin Manor. Jeez. The power of the garter belt (i.e suspenders) and black leather boots never wanes, does it?

This weekend, if the weather and energy allow, we're building a shed for our motorcycles. Oooo, excitement, eh?

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