Last night was Criss's birthday. Well, actually, Sunday was her birthday but she was busy in Las Vegas. Whatever. We celebrated last night with dinner and karaoke. Dinner was at Mariasol on the Pier. The margaritas were potent and the seafood burrito HUGE. We also had the added entertainment of watching a table of three Dine & Dash. The entire staff gave chase and finally caught one guy on the beach. I'm not sure what they did to him after that.
After dinner, we ventured up the boulevard to 14 Below for their Monday night karaoke. Have you ever been to a place so filled with regulars that you feel like you're missing an inside joke? Yeah, that's kind of what it was like. I caught on pretty quickly and what the hell, watching people sing badly is always fun.
My favorite part of the night, besides the extra strong margarita I had at 14 Below, was the drive to Santa Monica with Criss's friends Lisa and Susan, and her brother Drew. It was all well and good until Susan took over the iPod and it suddenly because CMT. Alan Jackson came on and everyone in the car (except me) started singing--and knew all the words. This was followed quickly by "Chattahoochee." Did I mention everyone in the car (except me) was from Georgia? Lord them southern gals know how to have fun.
I'm extra tired today and I look like I've been thrown under a bus, but Criss had a good birthday and that's all that matters.