Posted By Kristabella on August 2, 2009
This past Friday night was my half-sister Alix’s 21st birthday. Realizing this made me feel old. This was a girl who I babysat when she was little, when I was all of 11 years old myself, and now she’s 21 and entering her last year of college.
We started the evening with dinner here. I was a little nervous going into it because all the recent reviews of the place were horrible. And I was hoping for a good meal. Thankfully, we all really enjoyed it. I guess, in talking to other friends, their service is hit or miss so I can see that if you had crappy service, it would be a shitty experience, especially when you’re paying that much.
After dinner, we headed to a bar. A bar that pretty much no one over the age of 22 goes to (unless you’re going to watch sports, then you’ll find more of a mixed crowd.) We had a blast! I didn’t think I would stay long because the idea of partying with a bunch of 21 year olds doesn’t really suit my fancy. Me of the sensible shoes and band-aids in my purse for blister emergencies. And I may have been super hungover from book wine club the night before. But my stepmom and her boyfriend were there, and we had some good conversations (some way too deep for a drunken Friday night) and it was fun to just watch a bunch of 21 year olds go nuts. Ahhhh, remember those days? (And they probably all woke up sans hangover, unlike my 31 year old self. Bitches.)
Alix really enjoyed herself. She made it clear to everyone it was HER day.
We drank and drank and laughed and people watched and drank some more. Or I did. I really made use of the all you could drink special and packed it into the three hours! Alix did shots. (I’m pretty sure she probably vomited before the night was over. She’s clearly a Johnson because she can really toss ’em back.)
My stepmom’s boyfriend Mike put up with a lot of nonsense from me, Alix and my stepmom, Patty.
I think Alix had a good time, no?
But to me she’ll always be that little girl I babysat, even though I’ve watched her grow up into a phenomenal young lady. Hope you had a wonderful birthday Alix!
Rest of the photos from the evening are here.
The best part of the evening was my cab ride home. And not because I got a number from a cab driver. Yawn. That is old news. Oh no. This time, I got screamed at by a cab driver.
So on my cab ride home, the guy was kind of a douche. He was driving like a fucking maniac and you could tell he seemed pissed because he had to go so far north. Well guess what, asshole, that means a bigger fare. On top of it, all the windows were open and he was speeding down the freeway and I was FREEZING.
I ignored him as much as possible and Twittered and pretended to be engrossed in my phone, at the same time making sure he was indeed taking me to my house and not to a ditch by the lake. At a stoplight closer to my house, there was some sort of an accident or police activity or something going on. So Douche McCaberson slides open the partition in the cab and points to the police car/car accident and says to me “See?” And I’m thinking “um, see what?” And that’s all I said to him until he needed directions to drop me off at my condo.
So as he rolls up on my building, he says to me, all pissy, “you know, you should really tell people to take Road A here instead of Road B because it is faster. This was ridiculous to go this route.”
(Side note, I tell them this way so I get out as close as possible to my front door and don’t have to cross the street by myself at 2:30 in the morning. I’m not a fucking idiot, douchenozzle. Also, I’m lazy.)
So then I pay my fare and give him close to exact change and say “if you were not such a douche, you would have gotten a bigger tip. GOOD DAY, SIR! I said GOOD DAY!” And then I get out of my cab.
And then Douche McCaberson decided to SCREAM out his window at me. He’s yelling “YOU ARE A FUCKING BITCH! SUCK MY DICK! FUCKING BITCH!” And probably a whole host of other things I blocked out because I just wanted to get into my building.
I was totally freaked out. So much so, I was afraid to take a cab home Saturday night, after helping my friend Melissa celebrate her 30th birthday. (It was a Birthdaypalooza this weekend!) But my good cab driver mojo is back and I told this cab driver the whole sordid tale and he was very pissed on my behalf. And said that should never happen and a driver is supposed to take you whatever way you tell them. Which made me feel 100 times better because I drink a lot. I need to be able to take cabs in the city.
And thankfully this nice cab driver didn’t ask for my number. Because I would have totally given it to him because he didn’t call me a fucking bitch. I’m so easy.
Edited to add: My dad is dead. He passed away in 2002 or 2003, I never remember, which should clue you in to our relationship. So my stepmom has a boyfriend that she’s been dating for quite a few years. The end.