I'm not very good at this.

On December 30, I promised to return the next day to tell you all about a very important event in my life. I hope you haven't been holding your breath waiting for that to happen.

Yikes.

So, what was the big, important event that I have now waited two weeks to share with you? Well, I'll tell you. It's the Annual Bitz Birthday Bar Hop! Woohoo!

You see, MB and I share the same birthday. I know, it's sickening. We are both born on the same day, just 5 years apart. Yes, I'm the older one. No, that does not make me a deviant. I already looked it up.

Our birthday is a little weird. It's 3 days after Christmas. It's kinda cool because you're a Christmas baby. There are lots of pictures of yourself as a baby shoved under the Christmas tree with all the other presents.

Sometimes I wonder if my Mom planned ahead just for the photo ops. It is ridiculously cute.

MB never had such cute memories. According to him, his birthday never got acknowledged until around February. Someone would have one of those 'oh sh*t' moments and then out came the leftover Valentine's Day candy and gift wrapped socks from behind the dryer.

He paints a bleak picture of his childhood.

When I heard this, I was very sad for him. My mom always made an effort to have a separate birthday celebration. I always had a party with cake, silly hats and at least a few friends whose parents just wanted them the hell out of the house already so they could enjoy Christmas break too.

Good times.

I started the Birthday Bar Hop when MB turned 30. I decided it was time for him to have his very own birthday celebration (that he also shared with me). We got all of our friends together and hit Main Street to partake of all the local bars.

It was a huge hit and has since become an annual tradition. This year, we started the day with lunch at Fogo de Chao. It's an authentic Brazilian steakhouse where they continue to bring you meat as long as your coaster is turned to green. It's pretty much a meat paradise. If you ever get the chance to go, GO! Just remember to pace yourself. And wear loose fitting pants.

I had already been warned not to wear my Spanx and I'm glad I didn't. Containment would not have been a good idea. Bacon wrapped filet mignon vs very tight spandex? Hmmm. I'm pretty sure my Spanx would've met their demise that day.

After a very uncomfortable drive home, we began the night with a few friends and a very hyper puppy at our house. Drinks were consumed. The floor was peed on. It was all very high class.

We continued on to our first stop where we met the rest of our friends for drinks and some food. Well, they ate. MB and I were still on a meat high from lunch. At this point, I had managed to stuff myself into my Spanx, but it wasn't pretty. No nachos for me, thank you very much.

Then a homeless man wandered into the bar for a beer and they tried to kick him out. He still had over half a beer left. That's a party fowl that can not be overlooked. So, MB did the honorable thing and gave him $10. I'm not sure how that helped his situation. It was really more of a 'screw you for your party fowl behavior' to the bartender. The same bartender who happened to be ignoring us all night.

I think we showed him. Or something.

Most of our friends abandoned us after that bar. Apparently they don't support the homeless. Whatever. Our party became a party of four, but we soldiered on anyway. We were good and drunk by that time and wanted some food. The meat high had worn off and our bellies were ready for seconds.

IHOP was closed. The diner was closed. The guy selling pretzels from a cart was nowhere to be found.

We found ourselves wandering the street, tripping over tumbleweed, until we stumbled into a pub that looked open. It was an oasis. The bartender welcomed us with open arms and offered us sanctuary in the form of cheese fries, cold beer and the dessert tray.

It was a Birthday Bar Hop paradise!

As we began to dive into our chocolate bread pudding and peanut butter bombs (just as heavenly as it sounds), our paradise was invaded. By a gaggle of 21 year old sorority girls.

Nothing reminds you how old you are like a group of 21 year olds downing girly shots and screeching with drunken glee about how drunk they are as they prance around in their skinny jeans and glittery tops.

Holy crow's feet! They probably didn't even know what Spanx were. Those little hussies. How I longed for those days again. Sigh.

Then, the gaggle got kicked out because one of them decided to go behind the bar and help herself to another shot. My longing went away.

I decided to just enjoy my Spanx contained beer belly, my Dark Golden Brown #47 graying hair and the ability to hold my liquor. That's what really matters, right?

That and getting to spend your birthday with your awesome hubby and your closest friends, who can also hold their liquor. That's what life is all about.
Holding your liquor so you don't get kicked out of the bar.

That's the wisdom of my 37 (gulp) years, right there. You're welcome.

Here's to a year of appreciating what I have and not doing dumb things that will get me kicked out of any establishment! Especially ones that serve peanut butter bombs. Oops, I'm drooling. I should probably wrap this up.

Later, peeps.