Ouch!
I was unable to post yesterday because I was busy on a drinking binge. Oh my God! I went out yesterday with co-workers--and holy shit was I the responsible one. I turn my head for a second and they're ordering shots, nasty ass (strong drinks) drinks etc...and it's three thirty in the afternoon. It's not often when I feel like I'm the one who doesn't have a "problem"! Anyways, we hang out at the first bar for about five hours...rediculously long. I drank Hoegarten all night and I was pretty much on my way to HappyLand...you know, the land where no hangovers exist and there are only cute boys to slut around with? Ok, maybe that's just my HappyLand. I scored my friends and I VIP cards to this bar so that we never have to pay cover again and so I was loved all night. I made it sound a heck of a lot harder to do than it really was. Since I lived here all my life people know me. Especially people who work in bars. So I just walked up to the one bartender and asked him if he'd seen me around lately. He replied that he hadn't and then me being the stuck up bitch that I sometimes can be I asked, "If you want to see me around here more often I need to get in for free. Can I have three VIP cards for myself and my really cute friends over there?" I point to my friends and I kind of pout. I pretty much laid on the thick cheese charm.
After scoring the VIP cards and realizing that it was nine thirty I felt compelled to make the girls head over to thitwbar, because gosh, I hadn't made a total ass of myself there in like thirteen hours! So we go. Of course the first person we see is Drk and he looks like a little tiny bumblebee in his navy blue and yellow striped polo shirt...and it makes me wonder, "Who dresses this kid?" It makes me feel good that there is absolutely no female influence in his wardrobe and that he dresses fairly poorly all on his own.
Drk steps out from behind the kitchen and talks with me and my friends for a little bit, with no mention of any wacko text messages he may or may not have received from some crazy girl the night before (err that would be me). In fact, I may've dodge a very large bullet. My phone indicated that the billion messages that I attempted to send to him were "not delivered due to unspecific reasons". Perhaps that breathalizer that I installed on my phone is finally paying off! (Don't you just wish sometimes). So maybe I dodged my stupidity or maybe the damn text messages will be randomly delivered on Sunday around 6pm, further confusing Drk and just making me look like more of drunk ass. Oh well, it was bound to come out, I am a drunken fool [hanging head in shame].
My one friend who has never been to thitwbar looked around fascinated. Everything was a new experience for her. She spoke blasphemy though when she said, "Everyone always says that this is a shit hole...[then she redeemed herself by saying] but it's not, it's really nice in here." To which my friend ML said, "Well...it's a family bar." A family bar? What the hell is a family bar? Does everyone bring down the whole family and get loaded? Mom, Dad, Susie, Jimmy and the dog Mr. Mophead? No. I knew what she meant. It's a local bar and it's owned by a local family. Albeit, an incredibly rich family now, but a family nonetheless.
These friends of mine were smart--whereas I was really dumb. ML left at around 10:30 because she had a class this morning to go to. My friend Missy left after my friend Nina arrived. I guess they were chaperoning me in shifts. [Don't you think an intervention might be a little more convenient? I jest] Nina brings in a cup of coffee with her. Yeah because that's what you do at a bar right? Drk says, "You're just lucky that you're her friend [and points an elbow at me] and puts her coffee from a styrofoam cup into a real coffee mug. Apparently, the rule from the LCB is that noone can bring any sort of drink (alcoholic or otherwise) into a bar . Why does the bar even have coffee mugs? I feel special because I'm rediculous and any special treatment of any sort makes me happy. No, I think I was elated. Then we ordered food, because when you've been on a bender since 3:30 pm you tend to get drunk and you tend to get hungry. We being the bitches that we are, make our order very specific. In case you don't know, you don't make orders specific at a tiny hole in the wall kind of bar. But we did. Nina ordered a cheeseburger without a bun and I ordered a turkey club without crusts...well because that's what I always order. And I hate crusts. Drk delivered our food to us and smiled saying in his best I'm-a-crusty-old-man voice, "You guys are just lucky that I love you because this order was just short of rediculous". He points at Nina, "You will get a bun the next time. And you missy," pointing at me, "will grow up and eat your crusts. Get over yourselves, I have real customers here." and then he laughed. Actually, I might say that he kind of giggled, but since I'm trying to not slight his manliness, I'll say he laughed. He also handed me the salt because he knows that I like to put salt on my tomatoes. A habit he detests and that he tells me that I'm going to die from. To which I always respond with, "Smoke another cigarette there, Blacklung." I think my sodium habit is probably the least of all my worries. Oh and I smoked three cigarettes last night? WTF? I detest them. Apparently though last night I said [because I'm a charmer] "Smoking cigarettes is like the poor man's high. I can't smoke pot anymore so I will smoke your damn nicotine sticks." Ahhh the logic of drunks.
I don't remember how I got home last night because I was drunk as can be...but the answer to that came to me when my friend Ryan called to check up on me. He showed up at the bar somewhere around 11:30 and when he comes, I'm guaranteed to be an absolute waste of life, because he never takes into account that I'm at least a hundred pounds lighter than him and a good eight inches shorter...he makes me keep his drinking pace with him. He may be responsible for me being three sheets to the wind last night...although, I think the duration of my bar tour might also factor in there. Well according to Ryan, at 12:30, he brought both myself and Nina back to my house because I was muttering incoherently about ripping Drk's clothes off and something about letting my dogs out, perhaps not in that order and perhaps I never said anything about Drk's clothes and Ry's just ribbing me. Well I, in typical stellar host fashion, passed out on my couch while Nina and Ryan talked until four am. Ryan called to tell me that I snore like a wildebeast when I am drunk and that my dogs curled up on the couch next to me to protect me.
I'm just happy that I got home. So then I ask Ryan, "Did I do anything rediculous when Drk was around?" [silent, pregnant pause]
"What do you consider rediculous?"
"Ryan!"
"M, you know it was your typical stuff. You told him that when you two had babies that they were going to be very short and stubby."
"I said they were going to be stubby?"
"That's the exact word you used. But I think you missed the important part. You discussed babies with Drk when he hasn't even kissed you. I think his penis needs to get somewhere near you for him to impregnate you."
"Did he look scared? Did he look like he thought I was going to boil his bunnies?"
"No, he was smiling. I think he knows you well enough to know that you're not crazy in general, just a little nutso about him."
[a bit huffy] "Well I think the stubby bastard should feel honored. I'm quite a catch."
"That's what it says in the bathroom M."
"Fuck you."
"No."
"Bye"
click.
After scoring the VIP cards and realizing that it was nine thirty I felt compelled to make the girls head over to thitwbar, because gosh, I hadn't made a total ass of myself there in like thirteen hours! So we go. Of course the first person we see is Drk and he looks like a little tiny bumblebee in his navy blue and yellow striped polo shirt...and it makes me wonder, "Who dresses this kid?" It makes me feel good that there is absolutely no female influence in his wardrobe and that he dresses fairly poorly all on his own.
Drk steps out from behind the kitchen and talks with me and my friends for a little bit, with no mention of any wacko text messages he may or may not have received from some crazy girl the night before (err that would be me). In fact, I may've dodge a very large bullet. My phone indicated that the billion messages that I attempted to send to him were "not delivered due to unspecific reasons". Perhaps that breathalizer that I installed on my phone is finally paying off! (Don't you just wish sometimes). So maybe I dodged my stupidity or maybe the damn text messages will be randomly delivered on Sunday around 6pm, further confusing Drk and just making me look like more of drunk ass. Oh well, it was bound to come out, I am a drunken fool [hanging head in shame].
My one friend who has never been to thitwbar looked around fascinated. Everything was a new experience for her. She spoke blasphemy though when she said, "Everyone always says that this is a shit hole...[then she redeemed herself by saying] but it's not, it's really nice in here." To which my friend ML said, "Well...it's a family bar." A family bar? What the hell is a family bar? Does everyone bring down the whole family and get loaded? Mom, Dad, Susie, Jimmy and the dog Mr. Mophead? No. I knew what she meant. It's a local bar and it's owned by a local family. Albeit, an incredibly rich family now, but a family nonetheless.
These friends of mine were smart--whereas I was really dumb. ML left at around 10:30 because she had a class this morning to go to. My friend Missy left after my friend Nina arrived. I guess they were chaperoning me in shifts. [Don't you think an intervention might be a little more convenient? I jest] Nina brings in a cup of coffee with her. Yeah because that's what you do at a bar right? Drk says, "You're just lucky that you're her friend [and points an elbow at me] and puts her coffee from a styrofoam cup into a real coffee mug. Apparently, the rule from the LCB is that noone can bring any sort of drink (alcoholic or otherwise) into a bar . Why does the bar even have coffee mugs? I feel special because I'm rediculous and any special treatment of any sort makes me happy. No, I think I was elated. Then we ordered food, because when you've been on a bender since 3:30 pm you tend to get drunk and you tend to get hungry. We being the bitches that we are, make our order very specific. In case you don't know, you don't make orders specific at a tiny hole in the wall kind of bar. But we did. Nina ordered a cheeseburger without a bun and I ordered a turkey club without crusts...well because that's what I always order. And I hate crusts. Drk delivered our food to us and smiled saying in his best I'm-a-crusty-old-man voice, "You guys are just lucky that I love you because this order was just short of rediculous". He points at Nina, "You will get a bun the next time. And you missy," pointing at me, "will grow up and eat your crusts. Get over yourselves, I have real customers here." and then he laughed. Actually, I might say that he kind of giggled, but since I'm trying to not slight his manliness, I'll say he laughed. He also handed me the salt because he knows that I like to put salt on my tomatoes. A habit he detests and that he tells me that I'm going to die from. To which I always respond with, "Smoke another cigarette there, Blacklung." I think my sodium habit is probably the least of all my worries. Oh and I smoked three cigarettes last night? WTF? I detest them. Apparently though last night I said [because I'm a charmer] "Smoking cigarettes is like the poor man's high. I can't smoke pot anymore so I will smoke your damn nicotine sticks." Ahhh the logic of drunks.
I don't remember how I got home last night because I was drunk as can be...but the answer to that came to me when my friend Ryan called to check up on me. He showed up at the bar somewhere around 11:30 and when he comes, I'm guaranteed to be an absolute waste of life, because he never takes into account that I'm at least a hundred pounds lighter than him and a good eight inches shorter...he makes me keep his drinking pace with him. He may be responsible for me being three sheets to the wind last night...although, I think the duration of my bar tour might also factor in there. Well according to Ryan, at 12:30, he brought both myself and Nina back to my house because I was muttering incoherently about ripping Drk's clothes off and something about letting my dogs out, perhaps not in that order and perhaps I never said anything about Drk's clothes and Ry's just ribbing me. Well I, in typical stellar host fashion, passed out on my couch while Nina and Ryan talked until four am. Ryan called to tell me that I snore like a wildebeast when I am drunk and that my dogs curled up on the couch next to me to protect me.
I'm just happy that I got home. So then I ask Ryan, "Did I do anything rediculous when Drk was around?" [silent, pregnant pause]
"What do you consider rediculous?"
"Ryan!"
"M, you know it was your typical stuff. You told him that when you two had babies that they were going to be very short and stubby."
"I said they were going to be stubby?"
"That's the exact word you used. But I think you missed the important part. You discussed babies with Drk when he hasn't even kissed you. I think his penis needs to get somewhere near you for him to impregnate you."
"Did he look scared? Did he look like he thought I was going to boil his bunnies?"
"No, he was smiling. I think he knows you well enough to know that you're not crazy in general, just a little nutso about him."
[a bit huffy] "Well I think the stubby bastard should feel honored. I'm quite a catch."
"That's what it says in the bathroom M."
"Fuck you."
"No."
"Bye"
click.
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