Last night the full Chicago Team Hamster group (Liz, Mike, Ryan and me) went out to celebrate Liz’s belated birthday at Tarascas on Wrightwood and Broadway.

First off, it took about an hour for me to decide what to wear and then when I was ready on time, my counterpart Ryan was pokey, thus making us 30 minutes late. We were the last to arrive and Liz was already halfway into her jumbo margarita with an umbrella. Ouch.

Tarascas boasts a certain charm, such as being crushed in the restaurant like sardines, sitting on cheap, plastic lawn chairs and viewing a wall-sized mural of a topless woman with six-pack abs. But with a pitcher of margaritas on the rocks between Ryan and me, it is all irrelevant.

As a note, when ordering your margarita pitcher, don’t ask for the house tequila – ours had a “gamey” taste that makes you wonder if you’re actually drinking rubbing alcohol. But after the first round, that is irrelevant too. Also, my chicken enchiladas were awesome and Liz’s birthday flan wasn’t bad either, although it did look a lot like cheesecake at first.

Once I crawled over the table to get out, rubbing my butt awkwardly against the people crushed next to us, we headed into the bitter cold to Mickey’s, who decided to “class” up their plastic tent with a $5 cover. No thanks. So after walking by a Starbucks, where the intoxicated version of me saw a woman working on a white Macbook (my baby) I yelled at the woman through the window that I loved her computer. She seemed scared, but then it was off to the Tin Lizzie.

There we were treated to another sign of spring – the first slutty summer top with tacky plastic bra straps! Three women came in for a champagne cocktail and preceded to begin gyrating their hips and swinging their arms in the air to Kayne and Justin Timberlake at the bar. They might have been confused that it’s a bar and not a dance club. Ryan and Mike were quite surprised yet hypnotized by this, but nothing tops Mike turning back to us while the girls were having a hip-swiveling seizure and saying, “wow those girls have to be so high on coke.” Love this guy.

Another night out in the city and another day of waking up with a “sock-like” tongue and a wicked headache. Unfortunately, during my margarita haze, I slipped to the group what my Macbook’s name is. So while they know, everyone else will have to wait until I see her next weekend.