My older brother asked me to come out and celebrate his birthday last night. For anyone that asks, he is a 29 year old out of work actor. Soon he will be my twin brother!

We met a few of his friends and a 2nd cousin of mine that I have never met before at a bar near his house. I was the DD for the night so my brother could properly enjoy his birthday.

We left the first bar and went even farther into the suburbs to The Mall of Bars.  This bar said “Hey, lets create a bunch of generic bars and throw them all next to each other!”

So you have the Pearl Room which is the concert venue. Then the Colosseum has a bar with pool tables and some acoustic Fiona Apple looking girl singing, outside there’s a beer garden and bean bags, Maximus is a dance “club” with bad booty music. And upstairs is the VIP room which looked like it was filled with strippers. But it’s hard to tell, a lot of the sluts on the dancefloor could have been strippers. Bounce, wiggle, bounce, wiggle, Girl I hope you’re getting paid for that.
I guess I never go to beer gardens because I was unaware that playing bean bags is all the rage among the baseball cap wearin boys and their jeans and a slutty halter top girlfriends.  I associate bean bags without backyard BBQs, not a rockin night out. The guys we were playing were totally into the game. “These are the same bags we had last night, man! These bags are awesome, no slide!”
After going to bars in Wrigleyville, I didn’t think I could find guys I disliked more but at least Wrigleyville guys don’t wear fun shirts like “Boobies Make Me Smile” “I support single moms” (with an outline of a stripper on a pole) “She looked cute last night” and “Rock *”. Are you sure you graduated high school?

I know I sound like a bitter bitch but the suburbs bring it out in me. Certain towns are worse than others but anything near where I grew up makes me cringe and run.

But big brother had a good time, I bought him lots of Redheaded Sluts (gag) and he got a chance to rant about ex-wives, kids, PTA and after school activities. It makes me feel not so old.

Grandma is visiting from The South this weekend. I went to my parents house and tried to convince my grandma to go to a male strip club and get tattoos with me. She said no, something about blood thinners and a husband. We ended up getting awesome ribs at Exsenator’s, an awesome little rib place with a bullet proof cashier window and no indication of being opened or closed from the outside.

Then we went to the casino in Joliet, aka the shiniest saddest place on earth. I love the people playing multiple slot machines at once. Like something in them is screaming “Not losing money fast enough!” The casino got rid of the coins so no more fun piles of dirty fake coins coming out, now you just get a slip of paper. The machines still make the coin noise which really confused grandma. The combination of smoke filled air and oxygen tanks was a little disturbing, we didn’t stay long and I didn’t lose money!

Then back to my parents house to watch Bridget Jones Diary which just seems like an ad for marriage. Not that I need any encouragement with my grandma hinting that I am not as old as the girl in the movie but still old enough to get married.

And I have to do this again on Monday.