Sucky and Super Sunday

I actually have a Super and Sucky post on a Sunday! Hooray!

Sucky:

• I spent the day working today. We just recently started a new weekend rotation and I worked my first Sunday in many months. I don't care how petty it is, it still made me grouchy.
• While Roomie's birthday was a blast (more on that below). I almost didn't get let into a bar because of my ID. It's getting pretty worn around the photo and apparently the hologram is hard to see. The bouncer asked for a second form of ID (no big deal, it happens) and all I had on me was my debit card, with, you know, a matching name to my license. He looked at that and asked if I had anything else with my picture on it. No. I did not. Number one, I don't even own two photo IDs. Number two,  after three years of going to the bars, I don't feel the need to bring three forms of identification with me. Roomie stepped in on my behalf and said, "She's 24!" To which Bouncer said, "And I'm older. What's your point?" Here's where I started really having a problem. I get that he was just doing his job, and if my ID looks sketch, fine. But he was just being a douchebag. And there is zero need for such an attitude problem. He eventually gave my card to a second employee who went and got a flashlight, stared at it for another minute, and I was dramatically allowed inside. Give me a fucking break.
• It's been a while, but a few weeks ago I took a massive digger in the work parking lot. One of my favorite pairs of wedges was falling apart on the bottom and the sole was flapping around. But I wore them anyway because they're cute. Well...the broken flap caught on a crack in the sidewalk, and slow motion style, I ate shit. Luckily no one was around to see my mishap, and even more luckily, because I was in a dress and probably would have flashed everyone. It hurt so bad that I didn't even yell any profanities. I just sat there agonizing for a second and then let out an indistinguishable goan/shout. My first thought, clearly, was OH MY GOD I DON'T HAVE INSURANCE; WHAT IF SOMETHING'S BROKEN? Well, over active imagination aside, I was fine. It stung like hell and took two weeks to clear up, but I was fine. 

Super:

• Even though Roomie desperately tried to skip his 25th birthday, we went out and had a blast. Prior to bar hopping, we started off at our house. Two of our friends shopped up with a walker (complete with tennis balls on the back legs), and over the hill sippy cup and reading glasses. It was the hardest I had laughed in a really long time. We went bar hopping to a few different places, went dancing at the gay bar, and ended the night at Perkins, naturally. I didn't get to bed until after 4:30, and holy shit, I'm old too because that's late as hell for me now. 21 year old me just laughed in my face.
• The next morning I watched a several-hour game of sloshball played by a bunch of friends. It's basically kickball, with lots of alcohol added in. The rules, that I managed to catch, were that you have to have a cup of beer in your hand at all times, you have to stop at second base to chug a beer, to start the game, two teams face off with a game of flip cup, and keg stands were in there somewhere. It  was pretty entertaining to watch. I did not, at any point, take part in said festivities. I'm not even remotely coordinated sober.