Posted by: kristabella | May 15, 2007


Or the continuing saga of “How Kristin drank herself into oblivion last week.”

So we left off yesterday with our trip to the Cubs game. And the hilarity that ensued. Natch.

I don’t think the rest of the two days were as nearly as entertaining. (I know. It wasn’t as entertaining as I thought. Oh, but you’ll read anyway.) (Please.) But they usually aren’t after a trip to Wrigley. All those years I told stories to Lori about my outings to The Friendly Confines and I don’t think she quite understood. Now, she gets it.

Poor Lori was actually here for work. She had a conference to go to. So she actually had to wake up the morning after the game and be coherent. She gets Trooper of the Year Award. Because really? When you spend 3 days drinking with my unemployed dumb ass, you really deserve some kind of prize.

Thursday night we were going to have a low-key evening. We were saving ourselves for Friday night and a trip to Howl at the Moon. And we know all about Howl, don’t we? Well, at least this was the plan.

We ended up at Harry Caray’s for dinner. They have good food. Lori likes the Cubs. It was close to her hotel and not a chain. Dinner was great! We were both still feeling the effects of the game the previous night, so no drinkies with dinner. But after dinner, was a whole other ballgame.


Holy Cow, we drank a lot! (Gettit? Holy cow?)

We ended up in the bar, watching the Bulls decide that being up by 19 points was not nearly enough so they decided to just let the Pistons walk all over them. Again. It was nice. (Not the game. And the 8 guys yelling “Deeetroit Basketball” about every 10 seconds.) Lori and I got to catch up. We really miss living near each other.

So time flies. We talk and drink and drink and talk. By last call, each of us has had 6 glasses of wine each. EACH! That’s like a good bottle and a half for each of us.


Heeee! We tip well. And always be sure to hydrate kids.

(Do you remember how I said yesterday that this is only funny to Lori and I? Do you understand now?)

After Harry’s, we decided that after being all good and drunk, with 3 bottles of wine between the two of us, that we would do the totally logical thing. Go to sleep? No, no, silly rabbit. We went and drank more! We went to two more bars (TWO!) and drank 4 more drinks each! And not wine! Nooooooo. We switched to martinis. The two of us? Pure genius.

I think we left sometime after 3. I’d share more about those two bars, but 1) they are only funny to us and 2) well, I don’t really remember much. We sang Journey, met some Australian and his German friends, met a dude who was too tan to be from Chicago and finally some dude who like owned all of Banco Popular. (No, not all of them. His tan friend exaggerates a touch.)

Needless to say, neither of us was feeling up to anything on Friday. The funniest thing is that Friday was the day I had to take my drug test for my new job. This should be interesting. HA! I hope they aren’t testing for the hooch.

After spending the day inside watching TV, we headed out to Howl. Because that was the plan all along. Looptopia be damned! And Schwerer and Jenn were making the trek in from Iowa, so we couldn’t leave them hanging.

Plus, we needed to return to the scene of the crime.


Nope. Not her coat. We checked.

If you’ve never been, you need to go. They are all over the country. Drinking and singing Journey, Bon Jovi and Neil Diamond with a bunch of complete strangers is downright awesome. Oh, and hot bartenders dance on the bar. Um, yum! And the people watching is first rate.

There was the woman who was NOT 22 who got up on stage to dance. And shake her bon-bons. And the tambourine. And this NOT 22-year old? Was NOT wearing a bra. Which was why we knew she was NOT 22. Because honey? They aren’t so perky anymore are they? And really, no one needs to see them shake around like that. In the world’s ugliest top no less.

There was Wilma Flintstone with her ginormous pearl necklace. (What the fuck, woman?)


There was the 50-year old man. Not necessarily an oddity in itself at Howl (they take all ages, kids.) But checkered pants! CHECKERED PANTS! (What the fuck Grandpa!) With a mock turtleneck no less.


We had a great time. Minus all the actual 22 year olds in there. Which prompted me to yell out, possibly more than once, “I could be yo mamma!” (I don’t know when a bit has gotten old. See coat story, bitches, etc.) (You think I’m lying. There were all these recent grads from Loyola celebrating. Cause they grad-gee-ated. Mostly by drinking too much and bumping into me.) One of us got some action (and it wasn’t me. Shocker!) with a dude from Detroit.

And no one? Lost their coats.

(Oh shut it. I know I’m a bitch.)



  1. I’m at work & reading kinda fast so I thought the pearls were on a 50 year old guy.

  2. No on the pearls, but the pants are kinda cool;)

  3. Had those pearls been red, I would’ve called her Marge Simpson. Thanks for the great week–I had so much fun!

  4. Howl almost made me like that lame song “My Humps”…luv Howl!

  5. so…opening line…the ongoing “sage”??

    Oh, wise one 🙂

    maybe i could get a job as you editor??

    it sounds better than KJ blog groupie!

  6. Hahahaha Jenn! Can you tell I write these things at 1 AM?

    But now it’s changed and years down the road people will look at this and be like “can’t that girl Jenn read? It says saga.”

  7. Did you say AUSTRALIAN???? and german? Krikey!

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