I know, I know... I haven't really been posting as much as I used to... and what I have been posting has been, well... not terribly interesting. Well, except for Fraser, he's always interesting!
But let me tell you about Saturday Night!
Me and Ron went over to Bill and Amanda's in the late afternoon to visit before me and Amanda went next door to a girls-only neighborhood party. We hung out with them for a while, played with Dylan, then me and Amanda left the guys to head next door.
The party was a Body Shop party where you sample and buy Body Shop products. The woman presenting the products seemed a little inexperienced, but generally did a good job. I don't think she was expecting drinking during the party and things got a little rowdy. After spending some money and getting a little drunk... some of us got more drunk than others, we piled into a mini-van and headed out to a local bar.
Once there we order drinks and wander over to a pool table and four of the seven of us start playing pool. Me, Amanda and someone whose name I can't remember and is REALLY drunk and who is drinking more starts to talk to us about how good a golfer her husband is and how it is as if he was "touched by god" with his golfing prowess. Uh-huh... yeah. Amanda suddenly needs a cigarette, and I suddenly have this urge to join her.
We return to the drunk women playing pool... now don't get me wrong, hanging out with a bunch of gals getting drunk can be fun, and for the most part this evening was... it was just, um, interesting as well. Some people are quiet drunks, some people are happy drunks... some people are LOUD drunks and others are morose. Trouble starts to brew when you get too many of these different facets of drunkenness in one group of people, who me and Amanda do not know very well, if at all, before this evening.
Trouble also starts when you get a seemingly happy bunch of married suburban women really, really drunk and their hidden misery starts to show. It was a little scary. Each one of these women were interesting and delightful in their own way, but boy oh boy, get a few drinks in some of them and watch out!
So I pull out my camera and start to document the evening when Mrs. Golfer decides to pull up her shirt and flash me. "Did you get that?" she asks and I mutter "Um, no..." so a few of the other gals start lifting up and pulling down shirts, exposing expensive brassieres and bare breasts before me so I can "get the shot" Amanda looks horrified and I did not take the picture. All I can think of is that these chicks are going to get us kicked out of here. Keep in mind that I am pretty much a stranger to these women... I don't just go around flashing just anyone! I gotta get to know ye a little, you know what I mean? Sheesh....
After a few rounds of pool and multiple breast exposures someone realizes that it is karaoke night. Oh joy! I was hoping that it was just a DJ setting up in the corner for the local prom or something, but no... it was fucking karaoke. Kill me. I order a second apple martini which someone else obligingly pays for ( I owe somebody drinks, money or both, I think...) and find a table to sit at. A few of the gals sign up to sing and I just sip my drink and hope no one notices me.
"You want to sing, don't you?" one of them asks me and I say "No." She says "aw... c'mon!" And I say in a not too friendly voice "NO." and she backs off. Mrs. Golf approaches a lone gentleman who apears old enough to be her father and quickly persuades him to dance. By dancing I mean grinding her crotch against his to badly sung pop music as we all stare at her in mild horror and disgust. He appears to be having the time of his life when his wife returns from the bathroom.
I believe I mentioned something about trouble a few paragraphs ago? Well, trouble just sat down at her table looking pissed as her husband was bumping and grinding with someone half his age. Fortunately she was also drunk and when Mrs. Golf offered to buy her and her table a round drinks she seemed to calm down. Before you know it, Mrs. Golf was dancing with the two of them and getting along just fine.
At this point I wonder if it is time to go, and Mrs. Golf is swapping recipes with her dancing partners and declining Thanksgiving dinner invitations... it looks like they might want to take her home with them. Someone orders food, which I thankfully partake in and the rest of our bunch starts to dance. I am, sadly, drunk enough to join the dancing. The older couple offers to buy us a round of drinks so I am off to meet martini number three.
At this point several of us think it's about time to go, so I gulp my martini and grab my coat. Fortunatly one of us is still sober enough to drive... I feel fine, but I know better, plus I don't know where we are. We all pile into the mini-van and head back to suburbia... Amanda and Bill's neighbor says a hasty goodnight and runs inside presumably to vomit. Me, Amanda and Mrs. Golf retire to B&A's house to hang out for a while before heading home. Mrs. Golf is staying with the next door neighbor, but she doesn't feel like going to bed just yet... oh no... she's feeling "chatty".
"I'm a good person! I don't go around kicking people in the streets!" she explains for some bizarre reason. She also launches into her "my husband is an amazing golfer" story again and Ron cuts her off with an "I think golf is stupid" rant that leaves her thankfully speechless. File this chick under "talkative and morose drunk" and you have an idea of what we were dealing with. I can't remember what else she may have said, and I think that is a good thing.
All in all it was a fun and interesting evening. I found a new bar that makes a pretty decent martini... now if only I can remember where it was....
