Vajeepers!
What to write? Wht to write? Ever had one of those nights that would be better left as a whisper of silence, but you know you need to write it down for posterity anyway?
It started out innocently enough--Edgy and I went to Bossa for dinner--but it all went downhill after dessert. Of course, E and I try not to eat sugar much, but there's just something about a shotglass filled with chocolate mousse that prevents one from saying NO. Post shotglass, I got a nice little sugar high that prompted me to make the phone call to Glinda: "G, it's time to come out. We're picking you up for martinis!"
G was in no mood to party. A nameless institution doesn't know what they're missing by not hiring her, and she is going to find that she is better off without them, but for now, THEY SUCK! So we head for the Red Lion to drink to their demise or at least to be lulled into a stupor by the waitress with a great accent.
More of Glinda's Angels show up to support her. We're drinking. We're drinking. But things are still in control. It's all still ok.
Then TwoShirts shows up with an affable enough girlfriend for the evening, who reveals to us that she has two moms and "is straight but not narrow...sometimes." At this point, I'm cutting an eye over at TS, whose conservatism is sending up red flags that are somehow getting lost in the fireworks of sexual desire. He just looks over at me and says, "Shut up," as the girl on his arm loses more and more inhibition. You could see any inhibition just melting away, peeling off like the layers of an onion.
The drinks ensue, and the thing is that the damn things are really good. They're like candy. Even the beer is like candy because G drank 7 of them. And here is where Cranky's list of obscure references to the evening begins:
This morning, I'm feeling a little post Davenport. Off to the store for CoCola's new Enahgy drank.
It started out innocently enough--Edgy and I went to Bossa for dinner--but it all went downhill after dessert. Of course, E and I try not to eat sugar much, but there's just something about a shotglass filled with chocolate mousse that prevents one from saying NO. Post shotglass, I got a nice little sugar high that prompted me to make the phone call to Glinda: "G, it's time to come out. We're picking you up for martinis!"
G was in no mood to party. A nameless institution doesn't know what they're missing by not hiring her, and she is going to find that she is better off without them, but for now, THEY SUCK! So we head for the Red Lion to drink to their demise or at least to be lulled into a stupor by the waitress with a great accent.
More of Glinda's Angels show up to support her. We're drinking. We're drinking. But things are still in control. It's all still ok.
Then TwoShirts shows up with an affable enough girlfriend for the evening, who reveals to us that she has two moms and "is straight but not narrow...sometimes." At this point, I'm cutting an eye over at TS, whose conservatism is sending up red flags that are somehow getting lost in the fireworks of sexual desire. He just looks over at me and says, "Shut up," as the girl on his arm loses more and more inhibition. You could see any inhibition just melting away, peeling off like the layers of an onion.
The drinks ensue, and the thing is that the damn things are really good. They're like candy. Even the beer is like candy because G drank 7 of them. And here is where Cranky's list of obscure references to the evening begins:
- Some toes look better in holes in the table than others, and people from VA don't like toes
- $70 dollars worth of liquor sure goes down smoothly
- Accents, so many many accents, one of which was taped for posterity on G's phone, but she can't remember how to retrieve it.
- The movement of the party to Chances. My idea. That's when you know that I've had one too many (or more) martinis.
- $70 worth of beer makes G a straight girl
- another glass makes it home in G's crotch, this time with my asshole's name on it
- a white mask ends up in her ass, which leads me to officially dub her asshole with a name: "The Phantom"
- pre puke
- why does every binge drinking session end up at G's house with toys on her bed?
- whelps, role switching, and healing lube (don't read anything into this Two Shirts. Nothing happened. No one was naked. Your fantasy did not come true).
- Getting G's shoes off and trying to get her into PJs (oddly enough, lacy pjs) which ended with her yelling, "Get OUUUUUUT. I'm SETTTT". Actually, she sounded a lot like this.
- The doc: "Do you think she'll be ok? I've never smelled someone who smelled like puke before they puke. Do you think she'll choke? Should we leave her? She yelled at us. I don't like getting yelled at, and I mean, she REALLY yelled at us."
This morning, I'm feeling a little post Davenport. Off to the store for CoCola's new Enahgy drank.
posted by Cranky at 10:43 AM
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