Chelle, the Skinhead and I
Last night Chelle and I tried to stay away from THITWbar for as long as possible. We went to the microbrewery for dinner and then Chelle looked at her watch. "If we leave right now we can catch the hour of 50 cent drafts," she said calmly. I hopped off my seat faster than you can say Drk. Before we got to THITWbar I had basically had a pitcher of IPA to drink. Chelle contributed two glasses to the cause but basically it remained completely on my shoulders to drink it. So...when we got to THITWbar I was feeling no pain (because even though I'm a boozer, I'm also a lightweight that just won't stop).
Cr and her boyfriend W joined us at the bar which was an added surprise. She typically doesn't go out on Fridays because she works Saturday mornings, however, last night--she went all out. Shots were poured left and right. In fact, I was pacing them. Holy fucking shit! I'm the voice of reason now? We're all fucked...but no really, I would say," We can do another shot in fifteen minutes" or "How 'bout we wait on that one for a couple minutes" or "Do you really think we should do A Rocky Mountain Mother Fucker won't that make you want to puke?" Who knew I was everybody's mother? Certainly not me.
I actually had to take a breather from drinking last night--another sign that I am maturing (read:aging steadily). I had a couple of Cokes and I played a few games of pinball (which I am a total expert...ahem, pinball wizard. In fact I own two life size games because I love it so much). Then I was back full force. Keep in mind that we went to dinner at 6:30 and I was at THITWbar by 8. So this whole break thing probably started at 11. It's so sad.
Cr and Chelle managed to get me to do about a million shots and I drank probably 15 of Canada's best beer so I was pretty much fucked up. And what does Melina do when she's fucked up? Oh yeah she hits on Drk (smacking myself on the forehead). Why am I such a moron? Don't know...my parents aren't morons so I can't blame it on the DNA.
Chelle called the guy that she likes (B) but he didn't pick up or call back. This saddened her. Matty was at the bar for a little bit, looking as hot at ever. He had to work early this morning so he left the bar early. It made me sad, but watching his ass walk out of the bar made me a slight bit happier. So Chelle was a bit down over the whole B thing and somehow she ended up talking to his skinhead friend. Did I mention that I'm from Pennsylvania, home to the largest number of hate crime organizations? Yeah, we have the Amish and we have the jackasses--aren't we a lucky state? A the skinhead--who I really can't believe is a skinhead because he says that "he judges people as he meets them" which makes very little sense in the whole prejudice thing--he seems actually a nice guy.
So she's talking to A about B, who was apparently away fishing in Miami of all places and they're really hitting it off. As a drunken person I had no say in the matter because had I opened my mouth I would've gotten us both killed as I am not a fan of intollerance. Perhaps it was best that I was a drunkard. I decided to talk to Drk because I hadn't made an ass of myself around him lately and I felt like he needed a good dose of me. So really I did it for him. Seriously folks, it was all for him. I wish I could tell you what I said to him but alas, it's all a blur but I guarantee that it was inarticulate, stuttered, and random. I do remember saying to him that I loved his Castro hat and I asked him where I could buy one like it and he took his hat off his head and said,"Here you can have it." I swooned. A real swoon. Swoon, swoon, swoon. I'm wearing the hat as I type. In fact, I haven't taken the hat off. I slept in it. When he gave me the hat, I said, "No, you need this hat, you look funny without it" (yes, Melina is always sooo complementary of the man that she adores). He told me he had another one just like it. Wonderful! We can wear our hats together! I love him! He's the greatest! (What else can I type with an exclamation mark?)
Sadly, two am rolled around. In PA that's pumpkin time. Chelle and I apparently hadn't had enough alcohol or fun so we ended up going with the skinhead and this other guy (who always buys us drinks and I thought his name was Phil but apparently is Rick) to a little get together. That turned out to be a bust, and to be honest, I was so drunk it didn't matter. I remember sitting in a little room on a green couch forcing my eyes to remain open. Rick was nice, but I believe that he was going to try to attempt something had I not been vigilent. Ah no. I pronounced my love to Drk to all who would listen to me. I wore his hat pulled low over my eyes and I have to say I looked pretty cute. He looks way cuter in the hat but I was still doing it some justice. The skinhead offered to "make" Drk hook up with me, because "he had ways" of making that happened but I declined. Nothing like a skinhead forcing the man I love to have sex with me for fear of death, that would certainly get Drk to love me. Right? Good grief, where the hell do I live that a person would even suggest that? Makes me feel safe getting back into his car. But I do.
Chelle, Rick, A the skinhead and I go back to my house complete with Pabst Blue Ribbon. Where this nasty beer came from, I'm unsure but I will guess that it was A's, it seems like a skinhead beer. Long story short, I don't really remember anything after that. I woke up around twelve in the afternoon (other than the few drunken stumbles to let the pups out this morning) and I feel like holy hell. Why do I do this to my body again? Chelle informs me that she hooked up with the skinhead. Now it wasn't hardcore or anything, fairly innocent, but wow! Scary wow! But since he's B's bestfriend she told A that he can never say a word and he agreed to this because...I think A has a softspot for Chelle.
In an ironic twist of fate, they have to talk to each other today because I left my purse in his car. He already called her and left a message to tell her. Before she leaves my house she says that she'll call him back around four when he's done work. And then she turns around and say, "Look at this, A and I are calling each other...we at the calling stage, how funny is that?" Funny indeed.
So when I get my purse back I will take my digital camera out and get a pic of the hat that sits so fucking sweetly on my head. So my faithful friends and readers, is this hat thing a sign of intimacy? Does he love me yet?
Cr and her boyfriend W joined us at the bar which was an added surprise. She typically doesn't go out on Fridays because she works Saturday mornings, however, last night--she went all out. Shots were poured left and right. In fact, I was pacing them. Holy fucking shit! I'm the voice of reason now? We're all fucked...but no really, I would say," We can do another shot in fifteen minutes" or "How 'bout we wait on that one for a couple minutes" or "Do you really think we should do A Rocky Mountain Mother Fucker won't that make you want to puke?" Who knew I was everybody's mother? Certainly not me.
I actually had to take a breather from drinking last night--another sign that I am maturing (read:aging steadily). I had a couple of Cokes and I played a few games of pinball (which I am a total expert...ahem, pinball wizard. In fact I own two life size games because I love it so much). Then I was back full force. Keep in mind that we went to dinner at 6:30 and I was at THITWbar by 8. So this whole break thing probably started at 11. It's so sad.
Cr and Chelle managed to get me to do about a million shots and I drank probably 15 of Canada's best beer so I was pretty much fucked up. And what does Melina do when she's fucked up? Oh yeah she hits on Drk (smacking myself on the forehead). Why am I such a moron? Don't know...my parents aren't morons so I can't blame it on the DNA.
Chelle called the guy that she likes (B) but he didn't pick up or call back. This saddened her. Matty was at the bar for a little bit, looking as hot at ever. He had to work early this morning so he left the bar early. It made me sad, but watching his ass walk out of the bar made me a slight bit happier. So Chelle was a bit down over the whole B thing and somehow she ended up talking to his skinhead friend. Did I mention that I'm from Pennsylvania, home to the largest number of hate crime organizations? Yeah, we have the Amish and we have the jackasses--aren't we a lucky state? A the skinhead--who I really can't believe is a skinhead because he says that "he judges people as he meets them" which makes very little sense in the whole prejudice thing--he seems actually a nice guy.
So she's talking to A about B, who was apparently away fishing in Miami of all places and they're really hitting it off. As a drunken person I had no say in the matter because had I opened my mouth I would've gotten us both killed as I am not a fan of intollerance. Perhaps it was best that I was a drunkard. I decided to talk to Drk because I hadn't made an ass of myself around him lately and I felt like he needed a good dose of me. So really I did it for him. Seriously folks, it was all for him. I wish I could tell you what I said to him but alas, it's all a blur but I guarantee that it was inarticulate, stuttered, and random. I do remember saying to him that I loved his Castro hat and I asked him where I could buy one like it and he took his hat off his head and said,"Here you can have it." I swooned. A real swoon. Swoon, swoon, swoon. I'm wearing the hat as I type. In fact, I haven't taken the hat off. I slept in it. When he gave me the hat, I said, "No, you need this hat, you look funny without it" (yes, Melina is always sooo complementary of the man that she adores). He told me he had another one just like it. Wonderful! We can wear our hats together! I love him! He's the greatest! (What else can I type with an exclamation mark?)
Sadly, two am rolled around. In PA that's pumpkin time. Chelle and I apparently hadn't had enough alcohol or fun so we ended up going with the skinhead and this other guy (who always buys us drinks and I thought his name was Phil but apparently is Rick) to a little get together. That turned out to be a bust, and to be honest, I was so drunk it didn't matter. I remember sitting in a little room on a green couch forcing my eyes to remain open. Rick was nice, but I believe that he was going to try to attempt something had I not been vigilent. Ah no. I pronounced my love to Drk to all who would listen to me. I wore his hat pulled low over my eyes and I have to say I looked pretty cute. He looks way cuter in the hat but I was still doing it some justice. The skinhead offered to "make" Drk hook up with me, because "he had ways" of making that happened but I declined. Nothing like a skinhead forcing the man I love to have sex with me for fear of death, that would certainly get Drk to love me. Right? Good grief, where the hell do I live that a person would even suggest that? Makes me feel safe getting back into his car. But I do.
Chelle, Rick, A the skinhead and I go back to my house complete with Pabst Blue Ribbon. Where this nasty beer came from, I'm unsure but I will guess that it was A's, it seems like a skinhead beer. Long story short, I don't really remember anything after that. I woke up around twelve in the afternoon (other than the few drunken stumbles to let the pups out this morning) and I feel like holy hell. Why do I do this to my body again? Chelle informs me that she hooked up with the skinhead. Now it wasn't hardcore or anything, fairly innocent, but wow! Scary wow! But since he's B's bestfriend she told A that he can never say a word and he agreed to this because...I think A has a softspot for Chelle.
In an ironic twist of fate, they have to talk to each other today because I left my purse in his car. He already called her and left a message to tell her. Before she leaves my house she says that she'll call him back around four when he's done work. And then she turns around and say, "Look at this, A and I are calling each other...we at the calling stage, how funny is that?" Funny indeed.
So when I get my purse back I will take my digital camera out and get a pic of the hat that sits so fucking sweetly on my head. So my faithful friends and readers, is this hat thing a sign of intimacy? Does he love me yet?
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