Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Selling the Drama...

People always want details and who am I to disappoint? So after further review, Friday night was...fun but not in that, "I could totally give it a thumbs up" kind of way.

Our evening begins in Peter Seychelle's comfortable study...wait, that's not right.

Our evening begins at Memphis Roadhouse, home of some kickass meat and barbeque anything. Let me preface this by saying, I have never had a meal here that was was less than awesome, in that, "fatguy gettin' his eat on" kind of way. Normally the dry rib/chicken combo is my thing but seeing as I was going to be doing some drankin' later on, and the prospect of there being suitable toilet accomodations available, I went with the Carolina Combo. This was like pulled pork, beans, cole slaw and & heapin' helping of attitude from our waitress, who by the way, was crazy and upset cause she had a lot of tables.

After a round of pulled pork that was good but had no sauce on it, (more like wet wood chips)and almost dying of thirst between drinks, we decided, to go to old reliable bar. NOTE TO ALL WAITSTAFF: Your tip sometimes depends on how thirsty a guy gets during dinner.

leaving the Roadhizzle, we jump in the vehicle and head to The Stuf, a local watering hole where drinks are strong and reasonably priced. I walk in the door & immediately notice a girl I met maybe two years ago. We were at a house party and we both had been doing some drinking. Yes, I was drunk at this party. It was one of those things you drink and mingle and with each time we found each other, we were progressivly more drunk. Things were going well and she was picking up what I was putting down, until she decided to go all out and ended up so drunk, her friends put her outside in a kiddie pool until she was going to be ok.

Yeah... See where this is going? Me too. Now some of the next part can only be speculation on my part but it would seem so. I mean I consulted the magic eightball and it said, "all sources point to yes." So there you have it.

We walk into the bar and low and behold on the other side of room is Kiddie Pool, (who for the purposes of brevity, will be refferred to as KP from here on out.) KP is staring me down like I stole something from her, and to be honest, I was a little uncomfortable. I was using all of my digital ninja skills to avoid eye contact, and it worked...until my friends sent her a drink...from me. So now I am reasonably sure there is no way I am going to avoid some form of conversation. I have been drinking diet coke at the bar, cause I was sober driver, but this called for a double shot of chilled SoCo. Shot of whiskey, shot of rum, Cardinals, Cardinals here we come! So I go and try a pre-emptive strike. Drop some conversation, and see if I can salvage anything from this.

She was overjoyed at the drink and immediately brought up the KP incident. "Great, she totally remembers we were going to get it on," was all I could think of. At this point the boys were high fiving cause, I've been on the injured reserve list for awhile and this was a "not-so" sparkling comeback. We talk, she buys a drink for me, we exchange numbers and "should totally get together sometime really soon."

I'm not feeling it. As I walk to regroup with the Alpha Male Posse, I'm still not feeling it. Another diet coke just to keep things moving, cause my stomach is in knots from a range of emotions, food and drink. They talk about how, "this is what I need, cause it's a sure thing." Anyone who has been alive more than 10 minutes knows there is no such thing as a sure thing.

Seeing as I am on the ski-jump into hell, why not go to the gentleman's club with KP and sister in tow right? That seems like a great idea! Now, I'm not against strip clubs and have been there on several occassions, but tonight was one of those nights where several parties made "back alley agreements" there would be no trips to the "den of sin." Of course I should have known these were about as meaningful as a fart in church. To the nudie we go... and of course, the one we are going to, not only do despise, but I know a guy who works as hired muscle there. So now I get to show up with all of my friends, KP&sis and do more time at the Caddie'.

At this point, I'm double-fisting bud light at $43 a bottle to keep from punching someone. KP decides she is going to make her move here and pretend to give me a lap dance. We had both had too much to drink for this to be good for anyone. In the long run there was a little grab ass here, a little smootchy smootch there. All of which made some jackhole bouncer...kick me in my bad leg and basically tell me this wasn't my apartment. He's damn right! My apartment wouldn't be decorated like a combo frat house/speakeasy nor would it smell like despair and unwashed cunt. So, this bullshit gets tired faster than Louie Anderson on a stair master. It's decided breakfast is in order, so off to breakfast we go.

Leaving the club, I find I have become a magician, cause all of my friends who came with me, HAVE DISAPPEARED. We get in the truck and I am white knuckling the wheel. Radio is on and KP has her stare locked on. I know if I blink, move, breathe...I'm dead. In my head I'm cursing the fucking turncoats who ditched me and before I know it, she is on me. These are some of those quick european kisses. Not the ones that last for a week mind you, just the ones that let you know you are kissing a smoker.

It has always been a cardinal rule of mine, that smokers need not apply, this wasn't as bad as I thought it would be but still not on my list of shit to do ever again. KP is quick and adept with her tongue tango. It's just enough to keep me interested without feeling like its prom night all over again. KP decides its a good time for secret weapons one and two. the shirt opens up and boobs with pierced nipples are suddenly a la carte. (Sidebar: Still not sure how I feel about the pierced nips)

I notice odd things. The truck is steaming, the engine is running and Spirit of the Radio or some fucking Rush song is playing and I remember being 15, sitting in my room listening to Rush and thinking the be all of existance would be to be able to drum like Neal Peart. More kissing, some boob play, "these nipples are freaking me out" and KP has her wandering hands on a recon mission. The men of trouser hog unit scramble. They are a little unsure about what to do since "this is not a drill." KP stops tongue-molesting me, my mouth and tonsils long enough to look at me and let me know, "We Are at RED ALERT!" The hangar door of trouser hog unit is opened and it looks like a full frontal assault is imminent. However, by the grace of God and Geddy Lee, KP's sister calls, and she answers.

Like David Ortiz, and the '04 Red Sox, I clap and point to G-O-D. Zip up and defrost the truck all in the span of a 30 second phone call. There is still light at the end of the tunnel. We got to breakfast and of course there is the mandatory after party at my bosses condo. We go, she brings me into the kitchen, 3 feet away from everyone else, and gives me another tongue lashing. I was fine...until she "told" me she was going to "seduce" me. She...TOLD...me. I had to jump into my head while this was going on and check to see if she had misused the word. Of course she had, seduce implies secretiveness or covert actions. You can't tell someone you are going to seduce them.

This lack of knowledge on her part made me angry and so I was all about gettin' the fuck outta dodge. I leave and drop off one of my good buddies and between the time I left and got home, KP had txt messaged me 3 times, all in all about 20 minutes.

I woke at 8:30 with the hammers of God pounding on my skull. I had to have a total colonic blowout, get dressed and have the rental back in 25 minutes. I was so dehydrated, one would have thought I had Parkinson's. So I do my business, (anal collateral damage) and grab a snapple. Get the truck back, avoid more fees, and down all 32 ozs of liquid goodness. Now I have no idea how I getting home and like an angel of mercy, my boss calls me to find out if I, "laid some pipe" last night. I told him no, "but he could come and get me and I would buy him breakfast."

We went and got "W" up and the three of us headed to Rockdonald's. By this point they were only serving cheeseburgers...nothing else. So two cheeseburgers, sans pickle and a lemonade later, I'm good to go...to bed. Boss drops me off and I have another battle with the bowl and now things are good. I pull back the covers, get nekkid, put fan on lightest setting and attempt to sleep the sleep of the just.

but I can't

Cause she keeps txting me.

So I wake hours later, still dehydrated and feeling as though I am going to give birth to the largest clay model ever. She calls and says she has a thing to go to tonight but that we can hang out after. "After like leave my house after midnight, after?" Fortunately, this didn't pan out and I was able to drink more water, water, diet dr. pepper, emer-gen-c and water and go back to bed.

All in all, it was a long and drawn out battle. Though there will be scars, I will be victorious.

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