Drunk Notes

There's nothing like the first time you see someone after a night out of being incredibly drunk.

They remind you about things that were said/done.

Things you weren't sure really happened...

BradMark, (whose name is Brad, but I always call Mark cuz I was drunk when I met him and he looked more like a Mark at the time) was reminded of such a thing last night.

We were out last Thursday for a birthday. We love Birthdays.

He was drunk out of his mind. We were about ready to leave the bar, heading towards the door even...

'HEY, we should make out!' he says to me...liquor thick on his nasty breath...

Um, I don't think that's a good idea...

C'mon! I just wanna make out...

I said 'no,' now let's go!

He stumbles a bit...You're a fuckin BITCH.

. . .

I told him about this last night. He was shocked, sorry, and extremely embarrassed. (I knew he was wasted, so I didn't really care, cuz I'm cool like that.)

'Oh man, and I think I called another girl a bitch that night too...'

haha....oops! good job there, chief.

Other things I heard during the drunken adventures of this week:

.....'I really think boobs are kinda boring. I mean, I can play with them for about 15 minutes, but that's about it...what's the big deal?! I'd rather just head south...'

::Ahem:: I like boobs more than that guy! (what a fag, no wait, they love boobs too...)

......You ever smell a stripper? They smell SO good. Like perfume and babypowder...(And the hairgel of the Douchebag sitting next to you)....I once said that to a girl and she was completely offended. (what an idiot)


Speaking of Strippers (again) A bowling buddy of mine told us a story...

I was wasted with my buddies at the titty bar, my friend and I were getting private dances...

My stripper finished up and said, 'Ok that's 80 bucks.'

Um. What?! Hey man, how much is she charging you?

She said 30.

Mine wants 80!
Hey, this is crap we both came down here at the same time and he's only paying 30, why are you asking for 80?

Cuz I'm not a little slut like she is.

Oh. Whatever. (He handed her 30 bucks and left.) which reminds me of:

......I'm not a slut! I'm an opportunist.

Right. Equal Opportunity STD factory. Gotcha.

Check this out. I've been scarred for life and I feel dirty.

I vanpool to work.

Today is my last day riding that stupid van to work.

Last night, I started to celebrate early. I've been in a carpool then a vanpool for just over a year...and now I fucking hate it.

Some days, it's nice, like when I'm hung over as hell, yet still manage to get up, and I don't feel like driving.

Other days, when it's frickin beautiful outside, I'd like to escape for a little bit and drive around aimlessly and find a nice spot for lunch on my own.

But I can't.

Assholes.

Today is my last day, so I got to sit in the front seat.

They brought me Krispy Kreme Donuts and Doughnut Holes.

Then I got the cheesey card seen here.
(And the pen they all used to sign it. Gee, thanks.)

A little later I was handed a stack of coupons from this asian guy whom I've never been able to understand....

Coupons for haircuts, tanning, manicures, brow waxings, and mexican food.

Apparently I'm hungry and in need of a makeover.

Thing is, he tore them out of a coupon booklet.

And what happens when you do that?

They're Instantly VOIDED!

Idiot. (but it's the thought that counts, right?)

The Porn Star Story

One time, at the Strip Club. . .

The 'Featured Dancer' was none other than Porn Star: Texas Barbie

I was excited. I love women and I love Strip Clubs.

I was with a group of friends, at The Lumberyard, 'Where real men go to get wood'

Right as we walked in, they started offering polaroids with her for 5 bucks.

I was game.

As I walked across the stage, she smiled at me, and said, 'Wow, you're pretty! Normally I'd sit on the guy's lap, but how about we stand instead?'

Damn. I wanted her on my lap. But I was too stunned in the first place to come up with anything other than, 'Oh, ok.'

Great compliment, a Porn Star thinks I'm pretty!

'Come find me after the show and I'll sign a picture for you.'

Sweet.

Later on, there was another opportunity to, um, 'get closer' to her. . .

'OK people, 5 bucks to get up on stage!'

I had no idea what for, but I did it anyway.

So I get up on stage, and the strippers are laying us down in rows. . .

I look to my left and there's a guy, completely wasted, 'HEY! What are we doing up here?!'

I don't know!

It's my Bachelor Party, this is awesome!!

He was having a great time. I turn to my right, and there's another drunken bastard laying next to me, 'It's my birthday!'

Happy Birthday!

Next thing I know, I see Texas Barbie walking around Butt-Ass Naked on stage. . .

She comes towards me, waves, 'Oh Hey! It's You!'

She squats.

Over my face.

She is pierced.

There's pierced Porn Star Clit 3 inches from my face.

What's a girl to do?

. . .

So I licked it.

I figure I'm never going to be in this situation ever again. (Unless I keep going to Strip Clubs)

A few reactions to this story:

Do you have any idea where that thing's been?!

No, but I'm sure I could go to the nearest Sex Shop and find out. . .

Are you fucking serious!? You didn't?!

I sure did.

That's Gross!

::Shrug:: At least I have a cool story and a polaroid with a naked Porn Star.

Random Sayings & Happenings: People your age...

The Big O and I work with lots of little boys.

By that I mean they are under 21.

The majority are still in the cesspool referred to as 'high school.'

One of these little boys, let's call him Little Shit, has an attitude commonly found in drag queens: Sissy yet Sassy.

I've seen him almost cry when another worker said he was fired for not showing up for work earlier that day. (not true, just giving the little guy shit.)

Little Shit is 16, looks 12, is scrawny as hell, and he likes rap.

He insists on being able to pick the music for every shift he works:

Little Shit: Hey can I put on some music?

Big O:It isn't going to be T.I. Lil Daddy er some shit like that is it?

Well, I must have something you like! How about Outkast?

That's ok by me, put it in, I actually like Outkast.

(Then he looks Big O straight in the eye and says)
I thought you'd like it, people your age seem to like Outkast. (kids these days!)

Excuse me?!

Well, my mom's boyfriend like them too.

Little Shit has a Hot Mom. She's a petite little thing & She rides a crotch rocket.

And apparently she likes younger men.

We're always giving him shit about it.

Funny how we're supposed to play 'family friendly' music, yet we don't have booster seats, high chairs, milk, or peanut butter & jelly samiches. (And if you want mayo on your bread and turkey samich, you're getting it in packets, damnit.)

Last night, The Love Monkey was discussing her uncertainty about the future:

My dad's thinking about opening up a Marina. He said I could work there...

What would you be doing?

He said 'servin burgers, scoopin' bait, and prolly gassing up boats. I'm 24 and I work for my dad, would you like some more slugs with that?'

Wow.

Gas 'em Scoop 'em Serve 'em

What more could a girl ask for?

**Warning: Cheesiness Ahead**

Big Dan's brother is in Dentist College. He finally broke up with this stupid bitch he's been dating long distance in Cali. She said she 'needed a break.'

But what does that mean?! he asked. So Big D got some opinions.

Several people, independently said, 'That means she wants some dick, and it ain't yours.'

Why doesn't he just go back to school and find himself a hot dentist chick to drill?

(I know, I know...I'm crapping up the internet with that one)

Confessions Tour

Once upon a time, in 1987, when the Pi was a wee little 5 yr old, her parents decided to take her to a concert.

A Madonna Concert.

At Soldier Field.

I may have been young, but I remember it.

From then on, I was a fan. Which is why I jumped all over Madonna tickets for her Confessions Tour.

The concert was Sunday June 18th at the United Center, where the Bulls and the Blackhawks play, and I took my mom.


That's the Pi's mom.


Being a Madonna concert, you get all kinds in the crowd...

Like The Person In White.
Yeah, that's a guy.

And this lady in fishnets, corset, leotard, knee-high boots, coat, and hat. She was kind enough to pose.


And then this, um, Shim.

Old, young, middle-aged, married, single, straight, gay. They were all there.

Madonna, being the diva that she is, deemed the AC be turned off.

Apparently it bothers her throat.

'I don't want to contribute to global warming.'

Right.

Here's a shot taken from our seats in the third balcony about an hour before the show was scheduled to start.

The beers were a whopping $7 a piece, we had time to kill so I partook in a few...

About an hour after the show was supposed to start, the crowd, being as bored as it was decided it was time to do some cheesey crowd-stuff.

Like the wave.

6 times.

Course it started in my section.

There was a gay couple sitting next to us, they were probably in their 50s.

The one kept going on and on about the last time he saw Madonna:

'It was the Drowned World Tour. I was so excited, I made it through the first few songs, but during the fourth song, I passed out and missed the whole show!'

There was a couple in front of us sitting next to a woman, who must've been 65, with her challenged son. The younger couple was getting flat out drunk. They kept getting up to pee and get more beer, double fistin' it until the bar closed. The old lady was pissed.

Madonna finally came on about 9pm, an hour and a half late. The first few songs were a little shaky, then it picked up. She sang a few old ones, and they were all remixed with things like Donna Summer, Disco Inferno, and her new music.

She played the guitar. In all-out rockstar form.

It was awesome. I found an unattended bag in the bathroom. It had a t-shirt in it. I took it.

Those things were going for $40-60! All in all it was a great experience and I'd do it again.

Mmmm, soothing...

Working at Ye Olde Samich Shoppe makes the Pi eat pretty healthfully.

Not a bad thing.

Occasionally, (AHEM, once a week) we order up some grease.

mmmm GREASE FEST!

In lieu of fresh vegetables we go for deep fried vegetables. They have been raped of all their nutrition so we have yet another thing to batter & fry.

I'd eat just about anything fried.

This past GREASE FEST featured onion rings, jalapeno poppers, fries, and suicide hot wings.

The FEST is not complete without proper ear treats. LoveLine, baby!

A customer comes in, starts to order his sandwich with extra mayo, and then pauses...Dr. Drew was answering a question about Chunky Semen. . .

(All eyes present go w i d e.)

Umm, do you still want extra mayo on that? (he did)

Hellman's Real Mayonnaise, Brings out the Best!

Food & Sex. A topic that many have explored before, but we had to take it over the line. . .

What if someone had a ketchup fetish?

Oh baby, forget that lube, where's my Heinz?!

Honey you taste so damn good, could you pass me another fry? (so wrong)

Actually, mayo might be the better condiment-as-lube choice, instead of, say, dijon mustard.

That would be a double dangerous dose of love...

Ow, it burns! Oh yeah, baby, you're so hot.

No, IT BURNS!

The soothing elements of mayo would be a nice follow up, don't you think?

Makes me want to start teasing the dieters in the office again...

(i think my over tired coffee induced zombitude is finally leaking onto the internet...)

Boys will be boys...

A more than slighty disturbing event that occurred at the apartment of the Cute Angry Elf:

While in her bathroom she noticed her cat playing with something on the floor. . .

Upon further inspection she realized it was a condom.

A red one.

Not a fully packaged red condom either.

A completely unpackaged red condom. (seemingly unused...and the wrapper MIA)

The cat prolly fished it out of the trash...

But where did it come from?

There had been only one person in her apartment....her SO.

He's a nice guy, a young guy, an inexperienced guy, if ya know what I mean....

(He's a VIRGIN)

Love Monkey and I came up with a few scenarios:

1. He was in the bathroom practicing putting it on...
2. He was in the bathroom yanking the snake and didn't want to make a mess...
3. He already had it on when he got there and took it off when things didn't look like they were leading to sex...

I'm not really sure which is more disturbing.

She asked him about it.

Of course, he had no idea.

Love Monkey was horrified at the possibilities. Things like this make her squeamish.

I just thought....aawww isn't that cute.

Which do you think is most likely?

The Cost of Evil: $3.09

There are nights in our lives that will forever live in infamy. Friday night is one of them.

The night as a whole was a great time, nothing like having bar nachos for dinner at 6pm and then going on a wheat beer marathon with friends & coworkers...

And then closing down the bar.

The Jilted Love Monkey and I were toasted out of our minds. After being kicked out on the street by the bartenders, and waiting for a call saying 'Yes, I'm on my way to pick you up,' from a friend... it was time to make a decision.

Jilted Love Monkey decided it was time to find a hotel, 'Don't you think that would be a great time?! We could split it 50/50, even share a bed!'

Music to my ears since I've been trying to make out with her since I met her...

But where's the nearest hotel? I thought it was the Embassy Suites. She wanted to be sure...

There were cops and Iowa State Patrol in the street, lights flashing, we were oblivious to what was really going on. . .

'I think it's over there ::points::...Wait! Let's ask these cops! Ok!'

So we stumble, hand in hand, to an Iowa State Patrol car, the troopers just about to close their doors....

'Hey! We need to go to a hotel! We need to know where the nearest hotel is?! A Nice one, not some fleabag motel...is it the Embassy?'

Hah, his eyes got all wide, he looked us up and down, and then nodded his head 'Yes.'

(You guys are lucky they didn't arrest you for public intoxication! haHa! The true crime would've been to prevent the fantasy going on in that trooper's head. . .)

We stumble off...OMG that guy totally thought we're lesbians! I just laughed, I was too drunk to care...

(Jilted Love Monkey is the straightest chick I know...::sigh::)

Finally! We're picked up at a bus stop 2 blocks from the bar!

But wait, it's 2:30am, we're wasted...

We're hungry!! Pull over at the next gas station!

Usually the post-bar-I'm-really-wasted 'meal' consists of something Greasy, and/or something requiring heating in a gas station microwave...

As I wobble and try to focus on the cold case with the various sandwiches in plastic, deciding which is the least disgusting, I hear the Love Monkey off to my left squeal, 'HOT DOGS!'

At the time, it was a FABULOUS idea. I looked at those weinies turning on their rollers and I saw SALVATION. This is what I saw:

This is probably what they really looked like:
(mmmm ROADKILL)


Love Monkey started to go on and on...'Where's the CHILI!? There's supposed to be a machine where you push the button and chili comes out, I WANT CHILI.'

In addition to the hot dogs, I, in all of my drunkenly infinte wisdom grabbed a bag of Spicy Pork Rinds. Chicharonnes Caliente.

And with that purchase I pushed the button that would make me just like that chili machine.

::Ahem:: You get the idea...Pepto & Aspirin have never been so precious to me.

Of Course, a night like this will spawn:

The Best Text Message Ever:

Cravin greasy burrito . . .wish you were here! whoo HORNY

Classic.

Attack of The Belly

Everyday on my way home, I drive by the same man. He has a perfectly round beer belly. It's so perfect he could be pregnant.

He's always out for a walk, well more of a waddle, really.

With his shirt off. Cringe

He displays his belly with pride; he even wears his shorts low. Unlike the slob in this picture, he doesn't pull the elastic waistband up and over it.

Pride.

I'd love to take a picture of him, but I'm afraid he'll realize what's going on and charge at my car.

Large belly jiggling, bouncing side to side, the effort of every running stride visible in the synchronized waving of his waddle and the frightfully determined look on his face...

It would seem that time had slowed down just so I could witness this behemoth of a man, in graphic detail, hurtling himself toward me. His battle cry coming out distorted and sounding like an orgasmic whale...

Only to slam into the side of my car like a sumo wrestler, rocking it like a toy boat in a bathtub, throwing me out of the driver's seat (despite wearing a seatbelt) and out the passenger side window, leaving me with barely enough time to roll out of the way of being squashed by my flipping-over-car...

Or he'll just think I'm weird cuz I'm sitting in a parking lot driveway holding up my cell phone in his direction and spacing out with a horrified look on my face.

On a side note: this morning I was greeted at the end of my street by a pair of humping squirrels. . .

It was another one of those 'what the fuck am I doing going to work?' moments.

If only I were a squirrel.

Check that out, he even has back up!

Getting back to the 'Why'

I was chatting with The Hobo one day and the reasons and for whom?s of blogging came up.

I realized that I had forgotten why I started writing this thing in the first place.

After I made the mistake of getting back together with the X, I had deleted the first posts from early December '05 at his request.

I understand wanting to keep shit like that to yourself, but this is my damn blog and I'm going to put them back up.

It makes me feel better.

The whole sob story is here.

And enough of that, back to the fun stuff...

The Old & Resistant

We have two part-time receptionists. Why? Because then we don't have to fork out full-time benefits. Sad, but true. Parent Company is a bank after all....

The morning receptionist is a nice lady that also whores herself out to Mary Kay.

She still has frilly hair from the 70s. Exactly like Debra Jo Rupp aka Kitty Foreman.

She'll actually do mundane tasks if we ask her to; which we do.

The afternoon receptionist, Barb, well she is the epitome of The Old & Resistant.

We all know Old People don't like change. Why do you think they drive so slowly, the speed limit doesn't mean a damn thing to them. 'It was 45 in my day, so it'll always be 45.' (The poor eyesight and slow reflexes are just a cover.) You get so old and you just don't care anymore.

When it comes to stashing them away in an old folks home, beware, the sudden change could kill them, no kidding. Just like fish in my aquarium, you dump too much cold water into their nice 82 degree home and they go belly-up.

Once they're old enough, there's no use for arguing.

Barb is one of those. At the ripe old age of 83, she has but 3 skills:

1. Answering the phones

2. Being a really sweet old lady

3. Playing Solitaire

ANYTHING, and I mean anything, outside of those 3 skills, and she will balk like it's her fourth skill. Actually I think it is in her skill set...

She will flat out, up front, DENY doing anything. It was a production just to get her to stuff envelopes.

I respect her for being such a Steadfast Old Hag, however annoying her inefficiency.

Here's to you, Barb, for being a sweet old lady, yet being able to call upon your Inner Bitch-Hag when work comes a knockin.


I hope one day, if I make it that far, that I, too, can be paid to only answer phones and play solitaire.