Thursday, June 19, 2008

Drunken Kitties


I have a sensitive stomach. I’m not big on drinking but I have been known to get plain drunk so for the most part I have a hard time keeping up with my compadres. I don’t know if it can be considered such a thing, but if it can, I think it’s safe to say that when I’m out I’m the least drunk of the drunks. Except for the holiday party last year. But in my defense I worked my butt off that year-hence my less than stellar amount of blog entries. Nevertheless, I apologize to all the ex-boyfriends I texted that night, my co-worker who had to continuously pull my dress back down as it rode up my hips and settled on my waist (that last description reads sexier than the reality), and my poor roommate who not only had to put me to bed but pay for the pizza I had called in the order for and had delivered to the apartment while I was still in the cab heading home.

Last night I went out with my two girlfriends Koko* and Jojo* who I hadn’t seen for a week because I was out of town visiting my family. My friends are a sentimental bunch or they can’t pass up an opportunity to have a drink. I’m leaning towards the latter. We went to see a movie then headed towards a chain restaurant for a couple of drinks and a killer appetizer special. It’s important to note that it was a chain because 6 beers and 2 appetizers set us back 150 dollars. Ridiculous. Even more ridiculous was the guy who walked up to Jojo and asked her if she was Chinese. Jojo is from Connecticut but when she drinks all bets are off. Jojo is Latina – she’s worked as Jennifer Lopez’s stand-in on music videos so she’s never mistaken for Chinese. We all were dying to know what the hell this guy was talking about so I had to ask…“Why do you want to know if she’s Chinese?”

Weird guy: “Because she’s got beautiful eyes.”

JoJo (to weird guy): “You need to not speak. Stop talking now.”

Weird guy: “Are any of you Chinese? Because you all have pretty eyes.”

Me (to anyone): “I love this guy!”

KoKo: “I’m not Chinese but I’m from Kansas.”

Me (to KoKo): “Can’t you be Chinese and from Kansas? "

JoJo (to weird guy): “Why are you still here? You need to walk away. Now.”

Weird guy walks away.

Other highlights of the bar included KoKo asking the bartender if she knew a song by Alabama about wheat farmers and if she thought she dressed like a lesbian. For the record KoKo is in fact a lesbian. KoKo also wears bandanas and shops in the men’s department at stores and is shocked when I tell her she dresses like a pre-pubescent teenage boy who’s really into surfing. In KoKo’s defense she says JoJo and I are the girliest friends she has. Now Jojo will kick anyone’s ass for looking at her sideways and I’m well, me, so it’s safe to say KoKo needs more female influences in her life. We’re trying – Koko has been wearing eyeliner lately and makes it a point to let us know when it’s on.

Later, I got into a discussion with the bartender about how there are no good places to dance in Brooklyn. KoKo who is very proud of Brooklyn said I wasn’t giving Brooklyn a fair shot. I said the only people who dance in Brooklyn that I’ve seen are the Mexicans who turn their taquerias into strobe lit discos after a certain hour. KoKo proceeded to tell the bartender that I was half Mexican so I wouldn’t come off as racist. I don’t think the bartender fell for it.

At the second bar I made out with a stranger. Ko and Jo swore he was cute. Unfortunately, I was the only one sober enough the next morning to remember the reality. But if they insist he was hot, who am I to ruin my street cred?

At the third bar KoKo got into a fight with a wall in the bathroom and came out with bloody knuckles. While I was wrapping her hand in bar towels we wisely decided to call it a night. It turns out that I am the only one that remembers this bar. My only proof that any of it happened was that Koko woke up covered in drunkenly applied band-aids.

After we crashed at my place the next morning KoKo dropped JoJo off at work and took me to lunch. JoJo puked at work and I hurled outside the front window of the car just as we passed through Columbus Circle. To the construction worker whose boots narrowly missed my bile – I’m sorry. I truly am. But chances are, at some point in your life you probably lived up to a stereotype and harassed a girl who felt so uncomfortable that she wanted to throw up. That one was for her. What can I say? I have a sensitive stomach.

*Names have been changed to protect the guilty and debaucherous.

3 Comments:

Blogger Bill From Gainesville said...

Drunkenly applied bandaids are one sign of a very awesome night! -- Also I love how you make your hurling kind of seem like a noble and beautiful thing. Your hurling by that construction workers feet is a statement for all woman kind! -- Said: You are awesome, and that was an awesome night out!

7:47 AM  
OpenID sideon said...

Funniest gawd-blessed post I've read in ages!

Be well.

11:49 PM  
Blogger Sister Mary Lisa said...

Ybmsu. (You bust my shit up).

2:53 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home