After a much needed weekend at home with the parents, I returned to Charlotte ready to party. Even though it was a Tuesday, I was trying to go up — reference “Tuesday” by ILoveMakonnen featuring Drake if that makes no sense to you. A few people had mentioned to me a place called Hattie’s Tap & Tavern, so I looked it up on Facebook and stalked its website. It appeared to be a laid-back spot, so I figured it would be a good compromise for going out during the week. (Not that I have any problems with going out during the week, mind you.)

I invited one of my closest friends to come hang out, but she had no one to watch her 4-year-old. She asked if she could bring him, and I thought, “Well, the website says dog-friendly, isn’t that basically the same thing?”

I kid, I kid. I called Hattie’s to ask if they were kid-friendly, and they were indeed. As I’d never been out with a kid in tow before, I anticipated an interesting evening ahead.

This past hump day, my editor and I decided to check out The Punch Room for after-work cocktails. Located in the Ritz-Carlton, her suggestion felt a bit ambitious for a mid-week spot, but there was no way I was bailing on the boss.

When we stepped out of the elevator onto the 15th floor, the immediate atmosphere was really quiet, intimidating even. A hostess quickly took charge and led us inside. Upon entering through the doors, you’ll feel as if you’ve walked into the study of an old English mansion, where you’ll light up a cigar and have the finest whiskey on the rocks. Leather couches, high-backed chairs, metal-beaded curtains and dim lighting create the allure of this “seductive new beverage den” (as quoted in the menu).

What was supposed to be a couple drinks turned into a four-hour gab session, over half of which was spent at the bar sharing laughs with Bob Peters, the head mixologist. Here are six things I learned.

This past Saturday, the weather was absolutely beautiful, a carefree peek into what spring will bring. To celebrate the great weather — OK, OK, we were going to be drinking anyway — my friends and I made plans for some day drinking, followed by a 9:30 show at the Comedy Zone.

We decided to head to Olde Mecklenburg Brewery, tucked in the warehouse district on the south side of Charlotte. Full confession: I was an OMB newbie before this visit. Parking was a tad inconvenient, but when I entered what almost felt like a compound with high walls enclosing it, I discovered hundreds of people, babies and dogs sitting at rows of picnic tables with umbrellas enjoying beer in the afternoon sun.

Thanks to the long line at the bar, I found myself double-fisting — the Southside and Captain Jack Pilsner. They were both light, full in flavor and enjoyable.

We ended up ordering a meal fit for a true German: a fresh-baked soft pretzel with Captain Jack beer cheese, burgers, house-made potato chips, house-made potato salad and of course a classic bratwurst. After the sun went down, we enjoyed a couple more beers around the fire pits. Little compares to a good beer in the warm sun with friends around a fire pit discussing the potential real estate — that is, potential significant others — or lack thereof. The best part? This was just an intro to a night of friends and laughter.

To help segue from day to night, we stopped at a friend’s house, where we played a quick game of Edward One-Scissorhand, which involves duct taping a 40-ounce to your hand (a modification, as usually you’d tape a 40-ounce to each hand, implying you won’t be going to the bathroom until you finish). Then we were off.

On a recent Saturday, I woke up around noon, ready to be productive. I had gone out the night before and stayed with a friend, but for once didn’t wake up hungover. As I gathered my things, I realized my purse felt super light. The night before, a friend called to tell me her apartment had flooded, and another sent a text saying his car wouldn’t start. Remembering that, I chuckled and thought, “Wouldn’t it be funny if I had lost my keys?” Sure enough, when I emptied out my crossbody, there were no keys.

I began to review my night: two Ubers, Prohibition, a taxi and the last stop, Cameo. If I left my keys in a cab, sayanora. I considered giving up and grabbing a spare key from my leasing office, but decided I should retrace my steps first. I took an Uber to Discovery Place for Science on the Rocks (#SOTR) “Smoke and Mirrors. Sure enough, after pulling up my app and finding Jennifer’s (my first driver) number, I was beyond relieved when she said she had them.

See? I knew I hadn’t gotten that drunk. In fact, I stayed so lucid, I can tell you about my first #SOTR experience with great detail.

Last year, during CIAA basketball tournament weekend, I went to Cameo to see my favorite rapper in the entire world, Lil’ Wayne. I was tempted to run toward the stage and run my fingers through his dreads, but after considering I may come face to face with a bodyguard or two, I settled for just watching him throw thousands of dollars in the air. Not that it wouldn’t have been worth it. Ah, so close, yet so far away.

It was that memorable experience that prompted me to chat with Sport E. Odie, one of Charlotte’s renowned promoters of urban nightlife over drinks and laughs. Sport’s latest major venue in the Q.C. is “the world famous” Cameo, located off Scott Futrell Drive.

When I told Sport I wanted to talk about CIAA 2015, he responded in his usual fashion: with a story. He shared the details of how, in his efforts to secure long-standing hip-hop mogul Diddy (or whatever name he’s going by these days) to come to Charlotte, he found himself carrying $125,000 cash in a bag while walking the streets of New York City.

Yes. $125,000 is what Diddy’s people charged for the rapper/entrepreneur to come hang out at Cameo for one night during tournament week. Do you have $125,000 just laying around? Yeah, me neither.
But it’s definitely happening. Last week, Diddy posted the event flier on Instagram: “CHARLOTTE NC I’m taking over your city CIAA weekend with my sister @lilkimthequeenbee and @kennyburns FRIDAY Feb 27 @ THE WORLD FAMOUS CAMEO...We goin from 9pm to 5 IN THE MORNING! In the words of @sporteodie #itsmoovietime.”

Yes, Cameo stays open until 5 a.m.

I love to celebrate holidays, so in anticipation of Valentine’s Day 2015, I bought some striped heart socks and Hello Kitty Valentine’s Day cards with suckers to give my co-workers. My mom supplied me with some chocolate and a teddy bear. The only thing that was missing? A Valentine.

Predicting a weekend spent alone, I began to look for activities to do. Fifty Shades of Grey, based on that top-selling erotic romance novel by E.L. James, was coming out. I put that on my calendar for Valentine’s Day, but then what to do Friday?

The answer turned out to be in NoDa, at Chop Shop: The Sweet Spot: Valentine’s Edition. The Sweet Spot is a traveling show described as “a high energy, heart-pounding, fist pumping, laugh-out-loud pop erotica event.” I thought, “What better pre-game to one of the most anticipated erotic movies of the year!” Bonus: I found Groupon and Living Social deals for half the price.

At 10 p.m. on Saturday, I found myself still in loungewear. An old high school classmate of mine was in town, and we’d spent the day watching basketball, getting tattoos in NoDa and eating everything in sight. After a nap that lasted at least two hours on the couch, the last thing on my mind was leaving the house. But on the last night with one of my best friends, I knew staying in wasn’t an option.

After throwing together a relatively cute outfit, we had a beer and decided to go on an adventure to a new spot. We grabbed a Lyft and made our way to Myers Park. Tucked underneath Jason’s Deli on Woodlawn after crossing over Park Road is an island getaway, a bar unlike any other in the Queen City. Open for little over a month, the Tiki Hideaway is a one-of-a-kind experience.

Last weekend, my friends and I were once again running behind on our pregame. It was approaching midnight before we finally decided to hit up Rí Rá in Uptown. Normally, we go straight to the second floor, but since it was supposed to be a low-key night (read: we could remember how many shots we had already taken), we decided to stay on the first level.

Before this night, I’d never really noticed the exposed brick, cozy fireplace or performance area — that really speaks to my past experiences at Rí Rá.

Just as I was settling into my “new” surroundings and decided to head to the bar for the first round, I saw one of my girlfriends chatting it up with another small group of people. One looked oddly familiar — it was her ex!

It’s bad enough social media makes it impossible to avoid seeing an ex-lover again. You would think that in a city of almost 800,000 people, it would be close to impossible to run into the one person you’re trying to avoid. Nope!

The morning started like any other — I woke up a little hungover. I was lying in bed trying to decide between going to a doctor’s appointment and sleeping in some more. After deciding that going to appointments were a part of being an adult, I gathered myself and my things together. I was staying at a friend’s and needed to go home first.

Nervous that my friend would come home to find her house had burned down (she’d already left for work), I made sure to double check everything was turned off and just how she left it. I opened the front door, turned the lock, pulled the door closed and made sure it was secure. As I turned to walk to my car in the brisk morning air, I said to myself matter of factly, “You left your car keys on the couch.” I frantically poured the contents of my purse onto the ground. Yep, they were locked inside where they would be for at least 10 more hours while my friend toiled away at her job.

With 12 percent battery life on my phone, I requested an Uber and called my P.I.C., who laughed at me. “Well,” she said, “come on over to my house. We have lots of games to watch and drinking to do.”

Smudged with makeup and wearing an aroma of morning breath, I plopped down in my Uber with a driver whom I’ve had before — another sign I go out too much. We laughed about my predicament as he dropped me off at the “usual spot” and encouraged me to drink the day away. Challenge accepted.

Last weekend, I met a girl we’ll call Stacy. She shared with me a horror story that I’ll now share with you.

Once upon a time ... just kidding. This story is no fairy tale.

One night out, Stacy met a guy named Adam on the light rail. Although she’d drunkenly given him her number, she had already decided she would probably never see him again, so she ended the evening with friends. A week later, though, he asked to take her out. “I couldn’t remember if his name was really Adam at this point,” she said, but she agreed to meet him.

The two went to Cowfish — a great first date choice by the way, although I tend to judge those not adventurous enough to try sushi. A first time for both, they didn’t realize they would be waiting for an hour. Naturally, they hit up the bar. By the time they were seated, they had drank more than their fair share of martinis. Oh, and she had confirmed his name was, in fact, Adam.

Stacy said she didn’t remember much about the conversation, but assured me it was meaningless. Overall, though, she was enjoying his company — not to mention he was starting to look much more attractive than she remembered.

After dinner, they decided to grab a couple more drinks at the bar. Mistake. Before she knew it, the PDA began, and they headed back to his place. You can imagine what happened next.