I love those nights where you gossip with your friends and totally remember the most randomest things that happened the night before.
Teased hair, falsies, super mini and red lipstick.
Club number one: Cock feast! Attention was nice, but we want to socialize, not be hunted!
Club number two: Spanish club by default. It’s the bestie’s favorite and I have to admit, I’ve never not had fun there --- well once I didn’t but that was a different story.
Spanish club typically means you should be able to speak Spanish – not in my case.
Randomest conversations the whole night.
Boy: Jibberish in Spanish
Me: Sorry, I don’t speak Spanish
Boy: Que? What do you mean you don’t speak Spanish? Why are you even here?!
Of course, he said it cute enough to keep me talking.
Boy: So what’s your name?
Boy: Are your parents white?
LMAO – Yep, that one kept me there too.
Boy: Spanish rant. –inaudible through the music-
Me: Sorry, What?
Boy: I’m sorry, you look like someone I know.
Me: Nice line, but I doubt many mixed Filipino and Mexican girls occupy this space.
Couldn’t find the car!
Drunk conversation with the randoms while looking for the car.
Found the car.
Lost a girl.
Found the girl.
Ended up at Taco boy.
Horchata por favor.
Quesadilla con pollo.
Tacos con pollo.
Taquitos con pollo.
Drunk ordered and didn’t finish anything.
I live for the nights that I barely remember, with the people I will never forget.