Apparently, unlike TLC, I wanted a scrub

Since Chicago had a recent heat wave that has again been crushed by the good ol’ cool front I am going to take back a recent resolution I made. Not too long ago when it was a billion below zero out I headed over to see my fake husband DJ Major Taylor at was I considered THE place to be on a Saturday night, Tuman’s. Now, I know people liked it much better when it had the sign that said “The alcohol abuse center” and you could get most drinks for under two bucks, but back in those times, although there was a kick ass juke box, there was no Major Taylor. And, Major Taylor is all I need to make my Saturday night sweatastic.

Well, on said below zero night, I was shaking my groove thing with my ladies, got my back, and by back I mean back, booty danced upon by a giant man who said that BFF and I were married to one another (snore, I’ve heard that before), and ended the night there with some Toto “Africa”. I was sweating like I was in Barbados (is it hot there?) and we decided that the night was not over. We headed over to the Continental, which is open until 4am and down the street from Tuman’s. It is kind of like the hipster Tai’s, one of my friend’s stole a super duper candle holder from there for me during another OCD night.

While walking towards the Continental I thought I was going to die from the shakes and lo and behold an SUV drives by slowly and honks its horn. Now, like normal I shouted back to the honkers, but unlike normal, I shouted something that I had never said to a drive by honker, “Hey, give us a ride.” Now, did anyone else I was with have the presence of mind to think, hmmm, we are getting into a car with some strangers who may or may not take us to our destination? No, we were all freezing our balls off! We hop in the back and as they begin driving I start opening and closing the back door and say, “I am going to roll out of this thing!” The guys kept saying I was crazy (snore, I’ve heard that before) because I probably tried to do it at least three times. They find parking by the Continental and we leave the car. They never head into the Continental, we got our ride, but too bad the Continental sucked and BFF almost got in a fight with a miniature bald guy.

Was it worth almost dying for? ‘Fraid not. The next day we made the resolution to never take a ride from a stranger again. But, you know what? It’s cold again, I like seeing my fake husband as often as I can, and don’t like my nights to end at 2am, so, potential ax murderers, I may be willing to roll out of your vehicle if you are so inclined.