There’s something about M

Holy shitballs! I need a helper. I’m not sure if it’s possible to become an alcoholic over the course of one weekend, but I sure as fuck tried. I ate like absolute shit and punished my liver like it was Anastasia Steel. The sheer volume of booze was enough to warrant an intervention on day two, but thankfully I surround myself with like-minded individuals. 

The debauchery began Friday evening and ended Tuesday afternoon with 20 pretty toes, two crabby Vietnamese women, and one Mike’s Hard Watemelon Hangover disguised as water. 

In addition to copious amounts of liquor and the caloric intake of an Olympic power lifter, I managed to place myself in one awkward situation after another. The cringeworthiness ranged from mild social anxiety to that scene from Swingers where Jon Favereau tries to leave a voicemail for Heather Graham and ends up calling back 10 times. It was perfect. 

Friday night at our usual bar. Sleeves was there with his son, along with C & PG, myself, and a random sprinkling of weirdos. Alcoholics are funny. 

Speaking of Sleeves, I like him. There, I said it. It’s definitely going to end badly, but for now, I’m going to enjoy him and his beautiful cock. It really is lovely. Ask around. You shouldn’t have to look too far to find someone else who’s seen it. 

Anyway, Sleeves had his kid and C needed to wash her hair, so they bailed early leaving just me and the weirdos. Fortunately the bartenders are quality people who can usually guarantee a roofie-free beverage, which may or may not be ideal depending on the crowd. I can get a little mouthy after 3 double Tito’s and no nap. It never fails, the moment I decide to head home, someone says something stupid. Friday night, that someone was this guy 😎. 

😎 is an ode to all things 2001. The glasses are Oakley and to this day, I have never seen them on his eyes. Instead, they sit precariously perched on his forehead. Not on top of his head, but just hanging out in the middle of his suntanned dome. “No 😎, I have zero desire to listen to your ‘reasons’ why Trump is the greatest Cheeto to have ever destroyed America. And no, I don’t want to listen to your theory on climate (doesn’t) change or how the Bible is real, but if you insist… Tito’s please!” 

What followed was my usual cocktail of three underutilized arguments and one obscure piece of verifiable trivia. Viola! We’re finished talking!

He was still pondering the physics required to survive inside a whale for three days when his girlfriend arrived and put him out of his misery. I was nearing the end of my drink when a new person decided to step into my bubble. 

Person: “I don’t know your name, but you’re my favorite person.”

Me: “Huh?”

Person: “I hope you’re not offended, but we call you the MILF and we come here to watch you.”

Me: “Because that’s not creepy at all. What exactly are you watching?”

Person: “We watch boys try and talk to you and then wait for you to dismantle them.”

Me: “I’m not that mea…”

Person: “You are and it’s glorious.”

I am definitely going to end up alone, miserable, and cow-like, but I’ve already destroyed any chance of a tolerable afterlife, so I have nothing to lose. After feigning shock and remorse, I gave those ladies an encore by fucking with Yentil for a few minutes before heading home. 

To be fair, Yentil is, to my knowledge, a real boy. I don’t even know if he’s Jewish, but he looks and sounds like a Rabbi. I should probably ask his real name one of these days, just in case I’ve still got a shot at that afterlife thing. Next time. 

Awkward- 5/10

Hangover- 6/10

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