Sorry, them's the rules.

Today was the wine tasting tour. The trolley picks you up at 11am and drops you off at 5pm. I played it conservative but managed to get a little over my limit by the time we returned.

The wine tasting tour was great. More to come on that later... let me just give you a quick summary of what wine tasting tours do. They make you tired. Real tired. I came directly home and took a nap. I just woke up. Six hours later. Could have been the wine, could have been the two Coronas I slammed, or could have been the Jameson and coke. I left the ladies, got a cab, and came to bed. I listened to my iPod sing Iron and Wine lullabies until I drifted into an amazing somber. Heaven = taking naps.

The point of this entry isn't about the wine tour--that will come later. The real story is that we got kicked out and 86'ed from a bar last night. This so-called "Mucky Duck" or, as we refer to it, the "Slinky Dink" is apparently where you go to get your butt grabbed, groped on the dance floor, or harassed by Tom Cruise. (**check back for pictures, they are coming and they WILL worth it.)

Anyway, if you watched the video at the link above for the Slinky Dink, it explains a lot. Just as we had consumed enough liquor to start dancing, I ran to the rest room. The ladies' line, of course, was a good 45-minute wait. The men's room: nothing. So, encouraged by 6 other girls, we went into the men's room. It was empty. As we were walking out and coming up with a game plan, I get assaulted by a security guard. Big tough guy with his head wire and everything. IN MY FACE. Being a complete rotten duck tail douche.

Tough Guy: You're out.

Me: What?

Tough Guy: Out the front door. (As he's physically pushing me.)

Me: What did I do?

Tough Guy: Went into the men's room. OUT. NOW.

Me: Can I get my friends?

Tough Guy: Call them from outside.

Me: I don't have a phone, I'm from out of town. I need to let them know. (I'm still in shock.)

Tough Guy: Call them from outside. (Still pushing)

Me: Are you for real?

Luckily, another security guard that was very sweet and had actually been keeping an eye on us all night walked up and said that he would grab my friends. So now Tough Guy is pushing all three of us out the door and Mindy (my sister who commonly sees me getting kicked out of bars for good reason) was trying to get the full story. "Nope, she didn't do anything, just went to the men's room. OUT." Huh?

He shoved all three of us out the door and says, "All three right here, 86'ed." So not just kicked out, but we can never go back? Not gonna be a problem, buddy.
(It was kind of funny because when we went in the bouncer chuckled like "you old ladies don't cause any trouble." Heh. He was sitting there chuckling when we got kicked to the curb. The place is a goddamn shit hole.

Everyone we've talked to said it's really hard to get kicked out of the Mucky Duck. Our cab driver said, "Yea, it had to be something else. You were just too old." My mind rewinded to the scene of the crime, hmmmm, yea the other girls that were my accomplices were younger and dressed like complete skanks so.... yea. Maybe they only want hookers and butt grabbers in there. I don't know. (Remember this dialogue from "Knocked Up"?)

I was drinking Jameson straight up. And so it is probably just as well that we left when we did. I still wanted to drive past in our Cadillac and yell "SUCK IT!" but... I'm grown up now.

Regardless, I woke up this morning and looked in the mirror: Did my hair get wet last night? Sister: Yea, you puked in it. What? I had no memory of that. Black out. I guess I just threw up in the toilet and went to bed. Slept like a champ and woke up feeling great. I think it's the whole ulcer thing. Not supposed to drink on 'em or something. I'm on vacation.

On the wine tasting trolley today, we were talked about the previous night and my adorable sister says:

Sis: "You just gotta remember that whiskey is not your friend. Every time you go out with him, he gets you into trouble. And if you hadn't have been made to stop, who knows what may have happened."

Me: "Well, we got back together so get used to it."

Sis: "I won't. Call me when you break up again."

Speaking of my cohorts, they just came rolling in from oyster dinners and lots of booze--they went to a supper club. Mother is snoring like a bear and Mandy is passed out with her tight jeans on. I guess I'll try to go back to sleep.

There should be a song about Monterey. The Hold Steady should write it.

The end.