Um...what exactly did we do last night?

The only thing more rational than the mind of a crazy woman is that of a drunk woman. Though we may not make what some consider “rational” decisions, put 5 drunk women together and what you've got yourself is a pretty damn good time.

I have a group of girlfriends that I go downtown with, and every time we go out we have a magnificent time. Last Friday night was no exception. We had a blast, but the really fun part came Monday when we began to remember the events that had been erased by bottles upon bottles of free champagne. So far, this is what we remember.

We started the night at my house where we drank champagne in celebration of our friend’s recent marriage and snacked on spinach dip in hopes that it would soak up some of the liquor we intended to imbibe. We made our way downtown by shoving 5 of us into a tiny little Celica, sitting the tallest one of us in the middle with the least amount of room. We did a little bar hopping and ended up at a martini bar that offered free champagne to ladies until 11 pm. We took advantage of this offer; in fact, I would go as far as saying some of us flat out raped this offer. It was here that my friend Megan was chatting with a gentleman who asked her for her phone number. She intended to type her number into his phone; instead she managed to delete someone else named Megan and change the setting on his phone to Spanish. We can only hope that he figured out how to return it to its proper setting. Renee apparently met "Rob" here and managed to tell him that her name was Jen, and someone tried to get Megan to vote for Obama (this someone was wearing an Obama t-shirt... at a bar.... I am all for political freedom but not at the cost of fashion). Here is where the night starts to get a little blurry, but still incredibly interesting. We wandered to a bar a few blocks away. Tons of people were standing around outside, including a camera man and some sort of newscaster or host. Renee and I jumped in the frame with him but we still have no recollection of who he was or what we said to him. We managed to get right in and avoid the blocks-long line because Chelsea is a pro at getting us into bars. Once inside we partied with a Playboy Bunny and danced with Broncos players (who we didn't know were Broncos players until later in the night). My liquid courage also kicked into high gear at this bar. When Renee caught sight of someone she might be interested in, I managed to talk our way into his circle of friends. I was mid-conversation with one of his less-than-exciting friends when something caught my eye and I wandered away and found myself at a bar, buying a Redbull-vodka that I am certain I did not need. We grew bored with this place and decided to move, again. We were quite intoxicated at this point and having to hold each other up and I figured we were not looking as hot as we did when we left my house. The photographer from the Westword apparently did not agree because he asked to take our picture. As soon as we saw the camera we all reverted back to our supermodel days and struck a pose. That picture was posted online the next day, and I'd say we still looked pretty damn hot. The next and final bar was basically a clusterfuck of wasted twenty-somethings, and we were smack dab in the middle of it. One minute we were resting against a pole posed like we were the stars of Miami vice, and the next minute we were dancing with that same column as if it were a pole. We met boys named Timmy and Tommy and made sufficient fun of them. We eventually stumbled out of this bar and into a town car that turned out to not be a legitimate cab but took us home anyway. Back at my house, Renee made a pizza but happened to slice her thumb open while dishing it up and Chelsea made a call to some guy named Evan whose number had appeared in her phone at some point in the night.

All in all, it was a successful night. We met what turns out to be somewhere around 40 guys, spent next to nothing and managed to get shnockered, and were left with enough food for thought for an entire week. While our antics may have been annoying to some, and I'm sure our husbands would be less than impressed, we certainly enjoyed ourselves. We had so much fun, in fact, that we are doing it all over again tomorrow night. If you happen to be in downtown Denver, beware