For those who want a good read... a) whyinthehell are you here in the first place?! and b)scroll to Ms. Lisa's verbal cantata below (ie, click 'comment' on the Thankless Jobs one...) Somehow, in listening to the fun those ladies have - the camaraderie they share - it helps me (at least mentally) stay a little younger. Joy - thanks for reading/sharing as well -enjoyed!
Yes, it is my understanding too Lisa is the World Record Holder for jello shots in one evening. I listened to the story on break which began "and I get home, and my sister comes running out of the house in a shirt with no pants on.....".... and this story continued for quite some time - and I finally interrupted with "yeah, but all this STILL doesn't explain the 'no pants' part!"... (Oh, and don't get mad at sis.. she truly says great things about you...)
Memories from my own "foggy days" when I didn't have a mortgage, I didn't worry about finding a comparable job at age 53 if I lost this one:
Marriage numero uno.... It was probably after a softball game.. who knows... but I drove home - I'd been married all of three weeks.. parked in my parent's driveway... sadly... thought I was home...
Gracie relates the story about a party and "the first man down" ie, too wobbly to stay awake.. well.. as he snored.. they gotta hot dog bun... placed his "hotdog" in it.. and then poured ketchup allover it. How convenient to awaken to breakfast in bed.
The night we shaved off Chuck's eyebrow. His left one. (Perhaps the male version of "penis envy"... Chuck is the fraternity brother that could.. yes... tie his thingy in a knot....
Close your ears/eyes if you ain't had breakfast... The night wife numero uno had her sorority sisters over... Twenty of 'em... My buddy Tip and I were the only males in sight... They rapidly went from "hey look at me gussied up in my dinner dress" to slobbering fools in no time.. thanks, in large part, to the wicked combination of Koolaid and Grain Alcohol. Women scattered allover the house, and sure, a few of them semi-uppity... One of 'em reached her quota - barfed.. barfed.. and barfed s'more.. Wanting to be an impressive host to the uppity ones, I whispered to Tip "watch this."... Walked to the door.. "C'MERE GABE...C'MERE BOY"... eww, but I'll never forget it... and besides, who can afford dog food on a college budget?
There's no disputing my waistline is now rounder than it usedta be.. but.. I've never considered myself round like a dartboard. Senior year in HS. Parents outta town. Surprise surprise - everyone is at my house. Clay, the onere little shit, launches a dart in my direction. I'm sitting on the sofa.. next thing I know I look and there's a dart sticking outta my knee. The rotten bastard. No, I didn't wing it back at him - but I think I knicked him once a year or so later in an outdoor bottle rocket "dodgeball" game. hehe.
Softball tournament, Plattsburg, MO. Sadly, two days in a row a homeless looking lady in a ratty old dress strolled through - scoured the parking lots, trash barrels for aluminum cans. The third day of the tournament, it's rumored an impression was done of her - dress and all by a drunken lefthanded frecklefaced no good from Liberty. I slightly recall it. And screw you, I've got decent legs if I say so myself!
The girls all get prettier at closing time, or so the song says. Abouta year ago, I was at my favorite local watering hole. It's my favorite because - in addition to watching the young punks do as I usedta do - occasionally an old fart will wander in. Seated at the bar, and old fart lady sat next to me. Generally, this is about the only way I can meet a chick at a bar - if she sits right next to me... I ain't the kind to stroll up to a table and announce "Heavy Penguins".. (you know, icebreakers)... Anyways.. I was saddened when this lady sat down beside me... Good Lord she wanted to talk too.. I did that.. but there were ZERO intentions/emotions for her at all. Simply - not my type. Well... as the clock ticked... as the draws were poured/consumed... longabout ten minutes before close I leaned over and tried to kiss her.. SUMBITCH, she leaned back away from me! How deflating! I guess the message is how skewed our behavior comes..
Believe me, I've been skewed. Probably too many times in my life... I've never hurt anyone.. I've had fun... I'm sure I'll do it again... Some stick their nose up and call it 'sad'. Eh, I dunno. Again, if you don't hurt anyone.. if you don't do it nightly... I say poo-poo. I call it fun. Fun is good.
Remember, use your brain cells today - for tomorrow ya might not have 'em.
3 comments:
I hate pants, ok? I hate them with a passion. But I have an aversion to people seein my ass, so I wear them. Well, not so much my ass as my thighs. Plus society kinda frowns on people who run round in their undies. You can be on a magazine cover or tv in 'em, but God forbid you show up to work like that. Seriously. But, yes, if I had my druthers, I would never wear pants. So that's why my jeans came off the minute I walked in my house Saturday nite. I was wasted to the point of not giving a frig who saw me half dressed. Savvy?
Love the sauced stories. Ya know errybody has at least one. I told my worst (so far) one, but let me share this little ditty involving Kendra. It's not the worst one, but it's one a my faves. So she comes home, and when I say home I mean my parents house cuz she was still in High School. She jumps out of my boyfriends (he's long gone, thankfully) car screaming, "Lliiiissaahhhh!!! I just played quarters with a Moretine and I WON!". Now I'm sure there are people reading this who aren't from scenic Cass County so lemme tell ya, the Moretines have a reputation for a lot of stuff, one of which is drinking. Some might call them DRUNKS. Not me though cuz I went to school with 'em and that's not how we roll in Archie. Never insult a fellow Whirlwind.
Anyhoo, I deviate from my tale...so she's drunk off her arse, telling me dad would be proud of her (sad, but true) yada, yada, yada. I get her in bed, come back in a few and she has yakked all over her futon. Get her up, put her in the shower, give the futon a cursory wipe and flipped it. Go check on her, find she is waving her razor around like she's conducting a freakin orchestra. "I'm gonna shave my legs." No, no you're not. Gimme that before you lose a toe or somethin' else you might miss later. Get her out, put her back in bed, check on her a few more times and then I left. A month or so later, she's all "My room stinks. Why does my room smell?" And I'm like, "Hey maybe it's from when you blew chunks on your futon." Wow, she had no idea. And she was pissed that I just flipped the mattress and put her back on it. Come on, what was I gonna do, put her in my room. No, not even. But, as I'm sure you know, karma is a bitch. Several years later she got me back by lettin one of her drunk friends pass out in my room. Drunk friend proceeded to spew all over my bed.
So now we're even. But prolly not. Cuz it's never ending. Circle of life and whatnot. If you read this, tell a drunk story about you or someone you love. They make for good readin'! Oh and two more things. I love that there are so many ways to say vomit, and don't ever, and I mean ever, sell your girls out for a buck fiddy. That's scandalous.
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