Not Only Did I Lose An Hour—I Almost Lost My Saturday Too.

One of the hard things about working on the nightshift is the lack of time with my friends. I miss out the usual weeknight fun—drinks with the girls at Chipolte, catch up dinners with Charity, coffee with Ruby and milkshakes with Kirby—then with Friday nights tied up I miss out on the BR gang. Sadness.

So instead my entire weekend becomes about Saturday—the one chance I have to see pretty much everyone in one fell swoop. Whether it’s game night or roof top BBQ, a party or just low maintaince hangout—it has to have bang for the buck. And this weekend it wasn’t really going to happen.

I blame the films—Sin City in particular—the one group activity I hate. 20 some odd people trying to coordinate a night out involving line saving and group seating is just not something I find fun anymore. I got over it in college. Nonetheless I was saddened to realize this was ‘the plan’ for the weekend and wasn’t going to out all. Maybe curl up with Charlotte on the couch and be old maids together. Good times.

It wasn’t until a late night Friday that Lola and I talked and she revealed that she, Joy, Cheryl, and Rocky went to Sin City that night—which meant Saturday fun could still be had. Lola and Rocky were going to a friend of a friend of a friend’s karaoke party. Which should have been the first sign of the wrong to come.

Karaoke—when does it go right? Only if drunk, high, or with very untalented people. Which Saturday had in spades—the untalented part at least. We rolled out with Rocky, Eugene in tow and made our way into deepest darkest Korea Town and a private party karaoke bar for a birthday of someone we might know.

After a pit stop to 711 (Oh thank Heaven) where we brought booze that we were told we could bring—which might have saved the night. Unfortunately we were told no outside drinks and they only had vodka without mixers and 8-dollar beers—Korean 40’s kind of like Shapro’s. That’s when we should have left. But we didn’t leave until the 40 year old in hot pants—wearing booties—followed up the 2 twenty somethings singing Russian Lesbian Rock. We beat a fast retreat even though it looked bad because we didn’t know the birthday boy.

We made out way to the Square Pad and watched as Eugene and Rocky played boggle as Lola and I flipped through “Star” magazine and laughed at Brittany Spears’ fat photos. (It’s the little things people.) After a bit I was ready to go home—or was I? Once in the car I twisted Lola’s arm to go to the BR.

We made the scene amongst Burbank’s finest and even stumbled over a few of the gang who also came by for a drink or two. (No Kelly wasn’t among them.) But we had some fun, light drinking and even a BR brawl. Good times even if I still had to lose an hour to Daylight Savings. DAMN YOU FARMERS!!! (Just kidding.)