Monday, October 24, 2005
"I'm sick of dating cheerleaders. They're really hot, but they're so whiny and stuck-up. Dealing with their bullshit isn't worth it for a good fuck every night."
I was at a party. In fact, I was the first one there. The beer guy has to be punctual. I bought a keg of Bud, humped it up three rickety flights of wooden stairs, iced it down, tapped it, and settled in the watch the pregame bullshit before the World Series began. Guests began arriving around eight. (The third inning, approximately.) Planned months in advance, it was a Halloween party. Who could've known the White Sox were going to be playing for the big prize? Yet there they were. So I brought the keg early and got extra ice to compensate for potential warm beer problems.
Another early arrival was cute girl dressed as a St. Pauli girl. She brought a friend: white skin, dodgy facial hair, Sean Jean rapper's pajamas, and plastic vampire fangs. His name was Pat. He asked me a question.
"You like rap music?"
"Yeah, sometimes. Older stuff. Tupac. Scarface. Warren G. Wu-Tang Clan. I like those."
"Check this out. Here's my CD. Keep it. I gotz badass skills, Joe."
"I know, you introduced yourself, we just- I mean-"
"Relax. I know the whole 'Joe' thing. I absorb vernacular like a linguistic diaper. I was just deadpanning. Givin' you a hard time. I'll check it out, thanks." I stuffed the CD in the belly pocket of my White Sox pennant hoodie.
"Cool, man. You'll like it."
I shuffled off. I'd been looking for a small mirror to lay out some coke, and now I had this guy's demo CD. What's this called? Bad Dog? Fat Dog? I don't remember. Something dubious and unimaginative. All I needed was the jewel case. I got set to deviate my septum when Pat mosied over to my little booger party. Before begging for free drugs, he started in non sequiter with his complaints about cheerleaders. I responded.
"Life must be hard for you, dealing with all that sex, beauty, and vacancy."
"Yeah, I think I'm gonna hook up with ugly chicks from now on. Less work."
"Aw, stop playin' dog." He started to give me playful punch on the shoulder. I glared. He paused.
"Easy, dog. We cool. Hook a brother up with a line. Or even a bump? I wanna get jacked up for this pah-tay. And you'ze usin' my fly CD to bust up yo shit!"
I inhaled a high crested dune of white powder. It stung. My dealer had warned me: "I ain't had time to cut this, so go easy or you'll end up bleedin' all over your costume." Fuck yeah.
I licked the CD case clean, stowed it, and got away from the personality-challenged fuckstain as quickly as I could. When the game ended, I reported to the keg for cash and cup duty. I like being in charge. It's good cheap ego food.
Andrea was there, collecting cash, pouring beer, and writing names on red plastic Solo cups.
"Reporting for duty, Miss Andrea!"
Before she had a chance to go socialize and mingle, the extremely tall boy in the basketball pajamas thrust his empty cup forth. He yodeled for beer and attention. "Me-me-me-me-me! Hook it up fo shizzle!"
"Not you again. Um, I don't think I want to go give you anymore beer."
"Stop playin'! Fill me up, bee-yotch!"
I was forced to intercede. "Andrea, if you give him the beer, I bet he'll go away. At least for a while."
"True. Good idea."
I had not been quiet with my disdainful comment. Pat gave me an injured look. "Bro, why you hatin'? I ain't never done ya no foul."
"Here's your beer. Have a nice something. NEXT!"
"I didn't get my 500 sit-ups done today cause I was super busy, yo, but I'm hard as cold steel. I could pound you into nothing, so don't fuck wit me. I don't take no shit from nobody. So watch it."
"Kindly fuck off to elsewhere. I'll accept no guff from MTV addled potential date rapists like you. I'll serve you beer. You've paid. But no threats. One more and you're out of here."
"Oh. You live here?"
"Nope. But I do have the authority and the means to remove you from this event. Will you take your beer somewhere else now? Please? There are hordes waiting behind you, and they too are very thirsty."
Later I heard he went around ass grabbing. 7:45 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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