The details of my night may be greatly exaggerated. It has come to my attention that the details of my life are (possibly) greatly exaggerated. Maybe it is all in my interpretation. It all started when I was almost killed by Charles Manson.
Driving innocently, as well as quite responsibly down the street, as I embark on a journey, with my Bee-atch, towards artistic enlightenment. How could it not be totally enlightening when a doofus jock from GMHS turns amazing artiste. Tempting. . . Oh hell yeah. This I had to see. I had tinglies of anticipation all over the place. I journey on in search of the husband guy, who is in charge of taking the children types far away, so I can enjoy a night out. A.K.A. We met D at the Esquire. Out of no where a skanky car slinks forward into my personal space. Just as I am piping up to get a little belligerent, I see none other than an incarnation of, Charles Manson. Disheveled hair and mannerisms. His beady evil eyes bore into my soul as I faced the dilemma of letting him into traffic or lay on the gas so as to put his frightening face in my dust. I ask J.J. "what should I do?"
"DRIVE!!!" Tires spin rampantly, and emotions are high as we narrowly escaped with our lives. Then we pull into the parking lot and see Terri from GMHS. Turns out the three of us, more or less, dressed like triplets. I expect this from J.J. but Terri is now roped in to the crazy. All three with variations of black t-shirts and lace sleeves. It is the Legend of Zelda coming to haunt us once again. I will not delve in to the legend of Zelda. Maybe another time.
We go together like Three Musketeers to the box office and some crazy blond draws little mini, partial Swastikas on our right, inner wrists. J.J. and I, as if in a mind meld interpret this to be a sign from Charles and try to lick the stamps and rub them on our foreheads. I know this isn't really funny, because I have a friend who has had the dishonor of serving Charles HoHos in prison. She probably thinks I am a lunatic. I am innocent, I swear.
We watch the presentation and I am amazed that the jock can pour out this amazing work. He seems a little dazed and confused but there is a genius in there, there really is. It is really incredible whether you like his style or not. He tells a story about how a Cougar tried to ride him like a pony back before cougars were cool. Then about his dad and what his dad meant to him. J.J. had a little mini crush for a few minutes as she envisioned patting him on the little noggin and her in place of the Cougar. (She is going to drive over here and kill me now.) It was nice knowing you.
The show ended and we were invited to "mingle." To me mingling means walk around and shoot the shit with random people. Apparently J.J. and I were showing out roots because we didn't get the memo that there was a right way to mingle. She went to the lil girls room and I decided to check out the wares. Apparently I was going the wrong way. Against the grain as I tend to do. I but in line and ended face to face with jocko. I am getting the stare down and exasperated sigh from all of those I slighted. We said our awkward "hi" and I proceed to rub everyone else the wrong way just out of principle. So ten minutes later J.J. finds me and she has just done the same thing, only she got called out on it. Some lady dramatically exclaimed, "YOU ARE GOING THE WRONG WAY!"
"OH NO!!!!!!" is the reply as she proceeds to rub everyone the wrong way and plays cut-sies up to the artist. They exchange sweet nothing and this starts a roll of ridiculous behavior that can only be us truly regressing into children. I don't know what happens but I think the waitress at Cafe Jordano slipped us LSD in the burnt coffee.
We decided the waitress must be C.M's witch who is big pimpin for crack money. she has that meth head look only her teethe are marginally more attractive. Worst service ever. I have never had bad food there either until now. It was a little bitty bit of H-E-double-hockey-sticks. I gave her pittance for crack money which I never do. I am chronic over tipper. We proceeded to laugh ridiculously and quite similarly to deranged hyenas over every damn thing that crossed our minds until she came and gave us stink eye for the 50th time. Out of control. I am surprised we didn't get bounced.
On the way home we decided to pretend my husbands car was Billy. Billy is a special creature who passed away in 1995 from broken alternator. He was left by the side of the road for months, full of snow. He was my car. I do not think D would appreciate us ramming Corvettes and other stationary objects, driving through blue paint, or plastering bandaids all over his car, so we really had to stretch to imagine this. We rocked out to our fake eighties tunes and freaked out all who saw.
Well I am home now and ready for ninight. The LSDish , Romy and Michelle-esque-ness has worn off. I really love to be a mad fool. Thanks to my BFF for taking me there. Also, thanks for not making out with me on our date. There was definitely not enough wine for that. I love my BFF. Muah!
I don't feel like proof reading, so there!
"DRIVE!!!" Tires spin rampantly, and emotions are high as we narrowly escaped with our lives. Then we pull into the parking lot and see Terri from GMHS. Turns out the three of us, more or less, dressed like triplets. I expect this from J.J. but Terri is now roped in to the crazy. All three with variations of black t-shirts and lace sleeves. It is the Legend of Zelda coming to haunt us once again. I will not delve in to the legend of Zelda. Maybe another time.
We go together like Three Musketeers to the box office and some crazy blond draws little mini, partial Swastikas on our right, inner wrists. J.J. and I, as if in a mind meld interpret this to be a sign from Charles and try to lick the stamps and rub them on our foreheads. I know this isn't really funny, because I have a friend who has had the dishonor of serving Charles HoHos in prison. She probably thinks I am a lunatic. I am innocent, I swear.
We watch the presentation and I am amazed that the jock can pour out this amazing work. He seems a little dazed and confused but there is a genius in there, there really is. It is really incredible whether you like his style or not. He tells a story about how a Cougar tried to ride him like a pony back before cougars were cool. Then about his dad and what his dad meant to him. J.J. had a little mini crush for a few minutes as she envisioned patting him on the little noggin and her in place of the Cougar. (She is going to drive over here and kill me now.) It was nice knowing you.
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| CooCOOMAma |
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| Cougar |
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| Marked |
"OH NO!!!!!!" is the reply as she proceeds to rub everyone the wrong way and plays cut-sies up to the artist. They exchange sweet nothing and this starts a roll of ridiculous behavior that can only be us truly regressing into children. I don't know what happens but I think the waitress at Cafe Jordano slipped us LSD in the burnt coffee.
We decided the waitress must be C.M's witch who is big pimpin for crack money. she has that meth head look only her teethe are marginally more attractive. Worst service ever. I have never had bad food there either until now. It was a little bitty bit of H-E-double-hockey-sticks. I gave her pittance for crack money which I never do. I am chronic over tipper. We proceeded to laugh ridiculously and quite similarly to deranged hyenas over every damn thing that crossed our minds until she came and gave us stink eye for the 50th time. Out of control. I am surprised we didn't get bounced.
On the way home we decided to pretend my husbands car was Billy. Billy is a special creature who passed away in 1995 from broken alternator. He was left by the side of the road for months, full of snow. He was my car. I do not think D would appreciate us ramming Corvettes and other stationary objects, driving through blue paint, or plastering bandaids all over his car, so we really had to stretch to imagine this. We rocked out to our fake eighties tunes and freaked out all who saw.
Well I am home now and ready for ninight. The LSDish , Romy and Michelle-esque-ness has worn off. I really love to be a mad fool. Thanks to my BFF for taking me there. Also, thanks for not making out with me on our date. There was definitely not enough wine for that. I love my BFF. Muah!
I don't feel like proof reading, so there!
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