How Dinner Turns Into Dry Heaving At A Church
Chelle showed at my house at around 8 so that we could go to dinner. Apparently, sex has shrunk Chelle's stomach. She attempted to put food in her gullet but it didn't work. She said,"I think all this sex has shrunken my stomach." (she and Co-worker have been on sex spree that puts 9 1/2 Weeks to shame!)And this people, is the logic I have to deal with...I ate with no problem. But then again, there hasn't been any sex for me lately. But hey, I'm holding out for a hero...or at the very least, a man who thinks he's a pirate--even though we live in landlocked Pennsylvania. Oh my bad, he'll be landlocked in Colorado while I am landlocked in Pennsylvania.
From dinner we went to thitbar. I know, I know...it's a shock really. The true question is...how do you get drunk when you haven't been sober since Thursday? That's one for the zen masters out there. Because of Chelle's "shrunken sex stomach" she was having trouble drinking her beer so as a true drunk she alleviated the problem by ordering us shots...oh about every five minutes. I think I was drunk within seconds. Wait, I was drunk when I got there.
There were some crazy characters at the bar...more so than usual. It must've been the holiday that brought them out. One such interesting individual was Zachary. Zachary carried a book bag around in the bar which he claimed to be full of porn. While Chelle was in the bathroom Zachary asked me how much whipped cream it would take to get my panties...I didn't realize that other people knew that I like to eat whipped cream from the can. Oh! (slapping forehead) he wanted to do sex things with that whipped cream...oh. That makes sense now. At the time though, I just gave Zachary a weird look and began talking to someone else. Someone without a bookbag. However, Chelle was not so lucky. After about ten minutes of conversation I look over and Chelle has a drawing. A Zachary original actually. I think he fancied him an artist...but I sure didn't. The drawing was laughable last night and this morning it looks like an autistic child drew it.
At about 1:30 Chelle, Hot Ronnie and I were scrambling to figure out something to do. At this point, I was drinking water with a bendy straw because I was that drunk. In fact, I asked Derek for some water and then sent him back for a bendy straw...because when you're drunk...you need a bendy straw. Hmm what other embarassing things did I do? Oh I may have written on the dry erase board in large letters ANAL BY DEREK 50 CENTS but that's because I'm classy...really, that's the only reason why. We decided to go over to Hot Ronnie's house.
It did not turn out to be the party that Ronnie was hoping for...um...it was Chelle, Ronnie, his roommate, some random guy myself and...that's right, my boyfriend (I'm allowed to use the term loosely people as long as I know that it's a joke) Derek. We are all such nerds that we played this homemade game of Ronnie's. What we did was put the tv on the music stations. Derek was our game show host. He would tell us what musical category we were going into (Modern Rock, Rap etc) and then we would hear the song and the first person to be able to name the title and artist got the point. Who won? That's right bitches...it was me (polishing nails on shirt and blowing on them).
After everyone was a sore fucking loser (which they all were), Ronnie played us a little acoustic guitar. He was guitar shy though because Derek was there. Typically, Ronnie is the king of "chick music" basically it's why he gets laid left and right...but I noticed with Derek there he was trying to pull something a little more manly out of his repetoire. I just kept saying I wanted Ronnie to play Cupid by Jack Johnson which typically he plays for me by request or 9-50 times in a night. Uh yeah, last night when he was trying to impress my 5'6" pirate he refused. Even Derek was exasperated with me...he said, "Will you just play her damn Cupid song?" I don't think I got to hear it. I don't know what song I requested at this point but Ronnie said, "Oh no, you need a mandolin for that..." So of course, being Derek's biggest fan I said, "Derek can play the mandolin because he's awesome like that..." What is wrong with me? Don't answer that. Singing with Derek and Ronnie (Chelle piped up here and there) is a memory I'm going to cherish, it was so fun and well, my time singing with Derek is very limited. Unless we're going to sing to each other over the phone...with is highly unlikely because we've never actually spoken on the phone.
And then the time came. Bedtime. It was 5 something am so I guess it was bedtime...except it was the time I was dreading because Derek was leaving for Denver at 7am for seven days. He was lining up his apartment, his job and getting his class schedule. We stopped at his house on the way to my house (I'm not exactly sure why...but maybe to get his stuff for the trip??I told you I was drunk...) and he decided to give me the tour. That's right, I have never been in the church. It was really nice. Well except for the bathroom, it smelled like 6,000 guys simultaneously pissed on the floor. It was after the bathroom that it happened. I had a meltdown. I started to sob, hiccup and nearly dry heave. I sat on Derek's bed as I shook uncontrollably. I muttered miserably, "I'm soo sorry. I just don't want you to leave. I'm going to miss you so much." Despite the shell shock that I'm sure he was feeling, Derek just hugged me to his chest and said, "It's going to be alright." When my sobs slowed a little he kissed me on the forehead and soothed me a little more. Poor Derek, he's probably wondering what he did to get a crazy girl to love him so much when he does so very little to egg me on. Meanwhile, Chelle was sitting out in the truck oblivious to the sobbing that was occuring inside. I stood up and started to walk to the door and Derek said,"M wait!" I turned, hoping. I was hoping he would say, "I don't really need to go to Denver" I turned. But no, he said, "You have mascara on your cheek. I mean if you want to do an Alice Cooper that's your business but..." and then he licked his finger and wiped my cheek. And I felt selfish. I don't want him to like Denver. I want him to hate it...or at the very least I want him to miss me...but I'm pretty inconsequential in his life. And these thoughts flooded my mind and my eyes welled up again, but I didn't cry. I straightened my shoulders and said, "Well I guess you should get my ass home so that you can get to Denver, eh?" and we walked back out to the street where Chelle waited.
He dropped us off and again I had a breakdown. I didn't cry right away, I waited until Chelle went to bed. I was just sad. I can hardly even describe the sadness. I looked up his phone number and sent him a text message...just wishing him luck, I didn't hear back from him and I fell asleep next to my cell phone. And so now, I'm just missing my friend. My friend who has stolen my heart without the least bit of effort. My friend who takes such good care of me even when I'm the most exasperating person wearing my heart on my sleeve like a lunatic. My friend who has poison ivy on his ankles because he had to rescue an errant cat on a roof because he can't bear to see anything living suffer--not even for a minute. My friend who will soon live thousands of miles away from me. And most likely will cease being my friend.
From dinner we went to thitbar. I know, I know...it's a shock really. The true question is...how do you get drunk when you haven't been sober since Thursday? That's one for the zen masters out there. Because of Chelle's "shrunken sex stomach" she was having trouble drinking her beer so as a true drunk she alleviated the problem by ordering us shots...oh about every five minutes. I think I was drunk within seconds. Wait, I was drunk when I got there.
There were some crazy characters at the bar...more so than usual. It must've been the holiday that brought them out. One such interesting individual was Zachary. Zachary carried a book bag around in the bar which he claimed to be full of porn. While Chelle was in the bathroom Zachary asked me how much whipped cream it would take to get my panties...I didn't realize that other people knew that I like to eat whipped cream from the can. Oh! (slapping forehead) he wanted to do sex things with that whipped cream...oh. That makes sense now. At the time though, I just gave Zachary a weird look and began talking to someone else. Someone without a bookbag. However, Chelle was not so lucky. After about ten minutes of conversation I look over and Chelle has a drawing. A Zachary original actually. I think he fancied him an artist...but I sure didn't. The drawing was laughable last night and this morning it looks like an autistic child drew it.
At about 1:30 Chelle, Hot Ronnie and I were scrambling to figure out something to do. At this point, I was drinking water with a bendy straw because I was that drunk. In fact, I asked Derek for some water and then sent him back for a bendy straw...because when you're drunk...you need a bendy straw. Hmm what other embarassing things did I do? Oh I may have written on the dry erase board in large letters ANAL BY DEREK 50 CENTS but that's because I'm classy...really, that's the only reason why. We decided to go over to Hot Ronnie's house.
It did not turn out to be the party that Ronnie was hoping for...um...it was Chelle, Ronnie, his roommate, some random guy myself and...that's right, my boyfriend (I'm allowed to use the term loosely people as long as I know that it's a joke) Derek. We are all such nerds that we played this homemade game of Ronnie's. What we did was put the tv on the music stations. Derek was our game show host. He would tell us what musical category we were going into (Modern Rock, Rap etc) and then we would hear the song and the first person to be able to name the title and artist got the point. Who won? That's right bitches...it was me (polishing nails on shirt and blowing on them).
After everyone was a sore fucking loser (which they all were), Ronnie played us a little acoustic guitar. He was guitar shy though because Derek was there. Typically, Ronnie is the king of "chick music" basically it's why he gets laid left and right...but I noticed with Derek there he was trying to pull something a little more manly out of his repetoire. I just kept saying I wanted Ronnie to play Cupid by Jack Johnson which typically he plays for me by request or 9-50 times in a night. Uh yeah, last night when he was trying to impress my 5'6" pirate he refused. Even Derek was exasperated with me...he said, "Will you just play her damn Cupid song?" I don't think I got to hear it. I don't know what song I requested at this point but Ronnie said, "Oh no, you need a mandolin for that..." So of course, being Derek's biggest fan I said, "Derek can play the mandolin because he's awesome like that..." What is wrong with me? Don't answer that. Singing with Derek and Ronnie (Chelle piped up here and there) is a memory I'm going to cherish, it was so fun and well, my time singing with Derek is very limited. Unless we're going to sing to each other over the phone...with is highly unlikely because we've never actually spoken on the phone.
And then the time came. Bedtime. It was 5 something am so I guess it was bedtime...except it was the time I was dreading because Derek was leaving for Denver at 7am for seven days. He was lining up his apartment, his job and getting his class schedule. We stopped at his house on the way to my house (I'm not exactly sure why...but maybe to get his stuff for the trip??I told you I was drunk...) and he decided to give me the tour. That's right, I have never been in the church. It was really nice. Well except for the bathroom, it smelled like 6,000 guys simultaneously pissed on the floor. It was after the bathroom that it happened. I had a meltdown. I started to sob, hiccup and nearly dry heave. I sat on Derek's bed as I shook uncontrollably. I muttered miserably, "I'm soo sorry. I just don't want you to leave. I'm going to miss you so much." Despite the shell shock that I'm sure he was feeling, Derek just hugged me to his chest and said, "It's going to be alright." When my sobs slowed a little he kissed me on the forehead and soothed me a little more. Poor Derek, he's probably wondering what he did to get a crazy girl to love him so much when he does so very little to egg me on. Meanwhile, Chelle was sitting out in the truck oblivious to the sobbing that was occuring inside. I stood up and started to walk to the door and Derek said,"M wait!" I turned, hoping. I was hoping he would say, "I don't really need to go to Denver" I turned. But no, he said, "You have mascara on your cheek. I mean if you want to do an Alice Cooper that's your business but..." and then he licked his finger and wiped my cheek. And I felt selfish. I don't want him to like Denver. I want him to hate it...or at the very least I want him to miss me...but I'm pretty inconsequential in his life. And these thoughts flooded my mind and my eyes welled up again, but I didn't cry. I straightened my shoulders and said, "Well I guess you should get my ass home so that you can get to Denver, eh?" and we walked back out to the street where Chelle waited.
He dropped us off and again I had a breakdown. I didn't cry right away, I waited until Chelle went to bed. I was just sad. I can hardly even describe the sadness. I looked up his phone number and sent him a text message...just wishing him luck, I didn't hear back from him and I fell asleep next to my cell phone. And so now, I'm just missing my friend. My friend who has stolen my heart without the least bit of effort. My friend who takes such good care of me even when I'm the most exasperating person wearing my heart on my sleeve like a lunatic. My friend who has poison ivy on his ankles because he had to rescue an errant cat on a roof because he can't bear to see anything living suffer--not even for a minute. My friend who will soon live thousands of miles away from me. And most likely will cease being my friend.
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