One steak, one potato, some green beans, a salad, three glasses of wine (I almost typed "wince" and that truly would have been appropriate as well), one vodka tonic, one Guinness (a blackberry vodka in Katie's case), some dessert, and not nearly enough sleep later and I just can't focus on anything today.
Looking at computer monitors hurts my eyes. I have a sinus pressure headache throbbing behind said eyes. No amount of food is making my stomach feel any less hollow.
Katie called and sounded death warmed over. Her voice was cracking and you could tell that her eyes were struggling just to stay half open. And this was at one in the afternoon.
Just. Not. Good.
We went out to a rather pricey dinner with some old friends of ours last night. It was to a place called Sullivan's Steakhouse in Naperville, Illinois, and is renowned for, what else, steak. Rib eye, New York strip, filet mignon, you name it.
We've been looking forward to going here for some time now, but the price has always scared us off. When our friends suggested going here, we said sure, why not. It's about time we finally get over there and tried it out.
Katie and I both got filet mignons, just different sizes. Mine was a bit overcooked. Typically, I like my stuff well done. And, yes, while I realize that this is blasphemous to many fellow carnivores, I want no moo in my cow. But I figured I would tone it down a bit and get it medium well as filet can be tricky when overcooked. It still wound up closer to what my idea of "well done" is as opposed to how I imagined "medium well" to be. C'est la vie. Still tasted good. But the baked potato was spectacular. One of the best I've ever had in my life.
We all ate, drank, and talked. Then we left the restaurant and headed to Quigley's Irish Pub to continue the last two items listed. We'd eaten enough by that time.
In Quigley's, my two guy friends headed straight for the Cigar Bar area where the TV was. They both took the big overstuffed chairs which would have left me with a shitty straight back chair with no table to lean against and no armrests. Instead, I opted to sit at the booth with the wives.
Wow! Talk about a culture shock. When women are separated from their men and have some alcohol coarsing through their system, they really open up and talk about whatever. Nothing is taboo. Use your imagination. Topics were discussed in a level of detail that I'm still not sure I was comfortable hearing. I am no prude. I was ready to head over and sit on the floor in the Cigar Bar if I had to, but I was trapped in the booth against the wall.
If you want a truly unique experience, ingratiate yourself with a group of inebriated women that you know fairly well when no other men are present. But make sure to allow yourself an easy "out" should the situation become a bit hairy and potentially uncomfortable.
I thought men in a locker room were bad. We're pussycats by comparison.
But, anyway. We did have a lot of fun with them and plan to do it again but at a far less expensive locale.
And I'm getting my own chair.
