|Tuesday (Part 2)
||[May. 21st, 2009|11:34 am]
Frater Teth Mysterium
|||||Anthrax -- "Potter's Field"||]|
male friends humping strip club bouncers, skateboards
Jm and I had a semi-lengthy conversation concerning what has been going on in our lives. She had been dancing for about 3 weeks, and supposedly had been able to avoid the scummier aspects of the job. I let her know that if there were ever any problems to give me a call. Meanwhile, my friend J. was now sufficiently hammered, and would briefly leave the club to skateboard down the street, attempt to jump something, and then skateboard back and have another shot of whiskey.
A slow song ended up being played by the DJ, and J grabbed JM and began slow-dancing/ballroom dancing with her. Eventually, a goateed bouncer wandered over to check on Jm. to make sure the situation was a comfortable one, etc. While his back was turned, however, J. began essentially rabbit-humping the bouncer whilst throwing his hands in the air wildly. The bouncer, oddly, seemed not to notice. I grabbed J's arm and pulled him away from the bouncer, but he slipped my grip and ran back to continue the aforementioned rabbit-humping. I looked at S to see if he could help, but he had a stripper on his lap and was a little too preoccupied playing with her nipple piercings
(Side note -- this stripper had known S for a year or so, and had been trying to fuck him since they first met. S, however, was more amused with the fact that he had the ability to "blue-ball" a stripper, so he made it his duty to tease her to the point of sexual frenzy, and then leave her high and dry).
After repeatedly pulling J away, the bouncer eventually wandered off without either noticing or caring that J had been humping him. J, completely unfazed by the fact that he was a hair's breadth away from getting punched in the face, hopped back over to the stage to throw a few more dollar bills at the girl on the pole.
I bumped into the 19 year old again, and we got back to the "horrors of strip clubs" conversation. ("Yes, I know 3 dancers who died within a year. Yes, they were all 20 years old. Murdered, overdosed, fell asleep at the wheel.") By the time S and J stumbled out of the club (myself following behind), I am pretty sure I had her rightfully worried.
J began skateboarding in the middle of Washington St. downtown, almost slamming into a few cars and almost getting into a fight with one of their owners (the driver noticed the two large bald men, myself and S, suddenly standing next to the heavily tattooed skateboarder and thought better of pushing the issue).
chainsaws in the E&O parking lot,
S ended up driving the three of us to the E&0 Tap whilst J fiddled with both a framing hammer and a chainsaw in the backseat (J works both construction and occasionally tree-felling). We reached the E&O, and the smokers outside were quickly treated with the vision of J, drunk and smiling maniacally, revving a chainsaw and screaming "YOU LIKE TO PARTY!?!?! I LIKE TO FUCKING PARTY!!! WHO WANTS TO FUCKING PARTY!?!?! AAHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!!"
I eventually got J to put the chainsaw away, but made the mistake of handing his keys over so he could stash it back in the trunk. The E&O was the usual cast of characters, and I quickly settled into a conversation or two with some other friends, specifically Nick Brown, Katy, and some of her friends from work. Before I knew it, S and J had left without letting anyone know (aka: The Irish Goodbye), and the E&O closed shortly afterward.
and pushing a drunken girl from bar to bar in a shopping cart.
Neither Katy nor Nick nor their cute, drunken and exceedingly loud (drunk people need volume knobs) friend Beth were in any shape to drive anywhere, and my car was still parked downtown. So we all decided to walk from the E&O to the Scurvy Dog. Its less than a mile or so there (0.7 miles, according to Google Maps), and the drunken jaunt began as smoothly as one would assume it to go considering the circumstances. However, whilst Katy and Nick strolled slowly arm in arm behind us, I walked ahead with Beth (who will henceforward be known as NVK -- No Volume Knob) who whined and complained that she hated walking, didn't like to walk, was too drunk to walk, wondered if it was going to be a long walk, wondered where we were going and was it much farther and if we had to walk.
By a total stroke of luck, however, I noticed an unattended shopping cart in a nearby parking lot. Grabbing it, I instructed her to get in. "Whee!! Shopping cart! Awesome!!" she said as she hopped inside of it. However, the are-we-there-yets and wow-this-place-is-far-aways continued unabated, it seems, and I did my best to zone out and jog down the road pushing the shopping cart, hoping that the exercise would change her voice into a kind of "wah-wah-wah" sound indicative of Charlie Brown's mother. Katy would occasionally sprint drunkenly along side us, and apart from one rather impressive wipe-out (Nick helped her up and assured us that nothing was broken), we all arrived safely at the scurvy dog (stashing the shopping cart behind a bush so no one would steal it from us).
NVK continued to be loud, Katy continued to be drunk, and Nick continued to shrug and smile a lot. Scurvy eventually closed, I pushed NVK back to the E&O where her car was parked, got a ride from Nick and Katy back to my car, and eventually arrived home safe and sound.