Situation Normal. Atmosphere Breathable. Brainstem Injected. Dialogue Engaged.
Monday, October 24, 2005

Painfully Ignorant

"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'm Steve."

"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."

"Go away."

"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."

"Uh, okay."

Later I heard he went around ass grabbing.
7:45 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm


October 24, 2005 8:42 PM, Blogger Stace said...

To think of you, YOU actually telling that story getting the accent on and EVERYTHING, would be hilarious!!! Those guys get on my nerves and normally they are the ass grabbers that get my 'bow in there stomach.

October 25, 2005 1:20 AM, Blogger Latigo Flint said...

I've known you're talented for some time now Steve. But I gasped nonetheless at "I absorb vernacular like a linguistic diaper".

October 25, 2005 1:32 PM, Blogger Other Brother said...

He sounds like the same immature asshat who pulled the hair and slapped the face of Biggio's wife.

October 25, 2005 1:56 PM, Blogger Nobody special said...

I know that guy. I hate that guy.

October 25, 2005 10:04 PM, Blogger Denotsko said...

I're a lot kinder than me. I'm the kind of guy that has trouble bridging the I.Q. gap. I could never be a diplomat.

October 25, 2005 10:22 PM, Blogger Mishka said...

Right on!!! Great story once again. Sounds like that guy was just perfect for story telling...

October 26, 2005 2:43 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

alright alright st pauli girl here... ya ya ya.. he's funny like that.. this man is actually intellegent i swear to you i swear he funny witty and intellegent,, he is goin thru some identity crisis.. well ive been there,, seriously known him since i was 14 i swear ta goodness gracious me o my hehehe he is good people

October 26, 2005 1:40 PM, Blogger Lance Manion said...

Look, I said I was sorry, okay? How many times does a guy have to apologize?

October 26, 2005 2:58 PM, Blogger ty bluesmith said...

nice nice nice nice nice nice nice nice nice nice

October 26, 2005 5:23 PM, Blogger Bobby said...

You sure were patient with him. Money is money. Beer is beer. His musical selection . . . though . . . that served a greater purpose.

You can be hating as much as you want, Boo.

November 26, 2005 7:20 AM, Anonymous punoq7734 said...

Wow i remember that i was there and shit i remember the saint polly girl shis ok i guess well any way lets get to the subject.

he talked to me also we first talked when that polly girl introuduced us i was like yo just another of polly girls mail friends. So he wanted to size me up so he started asking me what im into. I told him im into music and he went off. Like mc bla bla bla two inches from my ear and ya ya mc's are like ass holes every one well you know what im saying. So I knod my head and act intrested.Now im not saying he was bad he had some skill but shit in my head just another wight rapper well this one had fake vapier teath and a baskitball out fit. I told him i thought the teen wolf was just that a wolf. so this dude got trashed at your place and stayed at my place and on the ride home the funny shit was going down at this point. So we walk out the party and some kids i didnt know ran out of the house with it looked like a fire hose. one of the old kind i think it was silver but i didnt know whos it was tell later. Then the driver of the car was going to my house me the mistory driver and the drunk pat was in this car. trying to get out of the spot was hell for this driver they bumped bouth cars geting out. Now on my ride to my spot i was in the back in this car and im a long leged drink of watter. or at least thats what my mom said. now the trip is only like a 4 min drive but it seemed like it was an internity maby like this wrighting. All I remeber is how drunk he was,this dude could not keep his head up and all he would talk about is how he loves to fuck stripers and all the stripers he has been with. Now ive been with stripers but shit thise is not rilly somthig to brag about unless you are a well, T-bird driving mulit whering highlife drinking white trasher. now i can say that kuz i am one. but shit this kid was tring to get in detale but all he had was that he loved stripers. now he got to my house and to make a long story short he passed out on the floor when i had a couch with a blankit for him. Now my roomate the next day wanted to know who was the dude sleeping on the floor I didnt now what to say so i just walked away. Well im not a story teller and that kid was a little diferint he knows how to spit but i am a little slow on the fack of whight rappers aw fuck im done they are yelling at me to get of this shit all i got to say is flag all you can dont brag and have fun fuck gold markers.


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