I love going out at night. And then I love waking up in the morning, grabbing my phone, and reliving the evening through surveying the damage caused on facebook and text messages sent when your two best friends steal your phone from you at a Nations and change everything, and you’re too engrossed in how delicious hashbrowns are to really protest.

I kinda started it, by sending a friend to pick up our food at the counter and stealing her phone to change her status to “So thankful for the two best friends that anyone could have!” and then I changed the other one to “I smell,” which apparently was really hurtful because she stole my phone and now my status update conversation flow on Facebook looks like this:

Me: I like to poop in my pants. Everyday.

Me for real, stealing back the phone, added: This is very true. I wrote this myself because this is very true of me and how I live my life. No one stole my phone and outed me and my pants pooping habits.

Then the phone thieves supported me by commenting: “Way to own it!! You make me proud poopie pants!!” and “I admire your honesty.”

The other patrons at Nations were probably wondering what was so hilarious about a grilled cheese/chili fries/choc milkshake pig out.

So my two teacher friends and I hit the town last night. And weeeee had such a good time. There are less than 100 days at school, report cards are due, we’re all dealing with real life drama and teaching world drama, and it only seemed right that we blow our calorie-counting and cut the good responsible girl act for an evening and go OUT.  Plus, I’m trying to earn a cool badge on Yelp. (obsessed!)

We tried Vesu, in downtown Walnut Creek, which was faaaabulous. There were female bartenders and hostesses, but all the waiters were pretty much semi-attractive men. SOMEONE finally realized that mostly women go out to dinner with each other, or people go as couples, and women want eye candy. I had the Colombian “arepas” and it was so tiny and delicious and looked so cute on my plate. And the girls ordered martinis by the name of “bombshell,” so how can you not like that? Dinner was complete with a “which kid is the most annoying in your class right now” report and confessions of the past and plans for our spring break.

Then I introduced L and J to the man-fest that is Mr. Lucky’s before 11pm. We posted up at a booth and the stream of boys just got better and better. We also experienced the wonder that is guys finding out you are a teacher. I think every male has probably had a teacher they had a crush on, a little fantasy, and when they would find out that all THREE of us were teachers, you could see their little wheels spinning, thinking “oh my gosh, its true! the hair comes down, the glasses come off, and teachers are hot!” It was fascinating. Our stock shot way up.

We also got to know an ex-Australian who insisted his friend was Charlie Sheen. He was hilariously entertaining and kept bringing over gentlemen to our table and insisting we were the hottest women he’d ever met. He was leaning so much he was practically in our laps, but he was hilarious.

We decided to end the evening in a fashion that truly reminded me of high school….peeing our pants laughing in a booth at Nations. The one by our house in Concord is SO NICE compared to the one in P.Hill I went to in high school. It was like a legit restaurant. Clean and everything. No  homeless people. But the standard cops were there. And there was even a group of teachers from DLS and Carondelet at the booth next to us, which was kinda funny. However, I must protest the addition of caloric content to the menu. I don’t need to know that one grilled cheese sandwich has 700 something calories. It won’t stop me from eating it, but I still don’t want to know.

By the time we got home, the horrible week had been forgotten, the facebook damage done, the memories made, and I had to talk myself into washing my face and brushing my teeth because it just sounds like so much work in the wee hours of the morning. But now its 9am again, and time to put my teacher hat back on and drown in red pen corrections and lesson plans and comments. “Your child is doing satisfactorily at this time.”

“Your teacher has a tiny headache and blisters from stilettos while typing this.”