The last time I went to a club, I got pneumonia.
Well not really, but because I acted like Lindsay Lohan the summer of my junior year in college, I suffered the consequences and have since hung up my club rat hat.
Yesterday, my inner CR came out since the posse ventured to the new and chic club Hooray Henry’s for my friend Cammie’s birthday.
Things started to go down hill when we arrived after I realized I forgot my ID and debit card at the hotel.
Luckily, I made it in but not after some questioning from the bouncer.
“Where’s your ID?”
“I’m 24 years old.”
Like lilo, I have aged.
I think it’s funny how I think I am too old for these places at 23 years old (almost 24), but I always wonder about the 30-40 year old people who go to these places…
It was such a great night and only got better the next morning when we dragged our struggling selves to Urth Cafe for brunch.
Besides my salmon eggs, the highlight of my morning was sitting next to a cat on a leash.