These are the girls who date me

I got a call from an ex girlfriend last night. We dated for 11 months before we separated under friendly circumstances for reasons that had little to do with our relationship. Consquently, we remain friends to this day. Chuggy, as we'll call her on this blog, because she once drank Crimenotes under the table in short order, is originally from the Bay area, but has been living in Chicago since August. The following is an approximate recreation of our conversation last night:

Me: So how's life in "the middle"?
Chuggy: It's good. I love it, but it's hard to find good seafood.
Me: Yes, not like here, when you knew the sushi was fresh because it came right out of the East River. Have you been going out much?
Chuggy: Yeah, I went out with [a large group of grad-school classmates]. We decided to go see an 80's cover band at this club.
Me: Sounds cool.
Chuggy: It was. I got all dressed up. I spent over an hour getting ready. I teased my hair and wore green eyeshadow. I had the ripped shirt off one shoulder, and I tore up some leggings to go with it.
Me: Yeah, you're good at a la minute T-shirt modification. [This is a reference to when she won a $40 bet with my friend and frequent commenter Crunk Raconteur by girling up a gag-gift T-shirt that read "Fuck You, You Fucking Fuck" and wearing it unabashedly out to the bar that night.]
Chuggy: Yeah, but here's the problem. I got to the club where the band was playing first, and they were trying to seem cool, so they weren't letting anyone in. And I was the only one in line wearing these clothes. Then everyone else showed up, and no one else was dressed up. I was the only one!
Me: [laughter]
Chuggy: Yeah, and then the line still wasn't moving, so we went across the street to an OTB and drank there. I fit in a little bit better. Then we finally went into the club across the street, and I got pretty drunk.