Don't you just LOVE "Love Shack"? I do. Almost as much as I love dancing to "Footloose" until I get cramps.
What I'm REALLY here to tell all you fine folk about is yet another instance of bizarre men saying totally inappropriate things to me in bars. And these two new ones? Same night...different bar.
It all began rather innocently. I accompanied MissBalls to her Teacher of the Year Banquet because she is an awesome teacher. We ate hard rolls and carrot cake. We did the Cha Cha Slide. I saw a tiara. Anyways, we decide to cap off the evening by going to the bar at the Four Seasons, because it's fancy and I love hotel bars. Well, it so happens that two weddings have emptied out into this bar so needless to say it is filled with some very, very drunk folks. Including one girl (with very large fake breasts...I'm just saying) whom the bar tender cuts off because she is so tanked. She of course makes a scene and calls for the manager. MissBalls and I scoot closer. She slurs some sort of back asswards complaint and then THROWS HER WINE GLASS TO THE FLOOR in a burst of rage!
(Alright, I can't lie to you. We didn't actually SEE her THROW the wine glass...we just heard it hit the floor. But for storytelling's sake...she throws it ok? Just go with it.)
Then, we are approached by an inebriated groomsmen who asks if we were at the wedding. Negatory GhostWriter. Blah blah blah, drunken chatter, blah blah...he's from Philadelphia and loves the Eagles. I respond "OH! My husband is from Philly!" We discuss cheese steaks. He says "That's why I LOVE YOU!". Um. Ok dude. Awkward silence. And then he says to me "Man. Your boobs are just pounding out of that dress huh."
EXCUSE ME? Did he really? I mean what the? MissBalls and I dissolve into hysterics and she reminds him that we are in the south and people don't say that shit out loud. He then mumbles that he has to go because he's got Roxanne waiting. As if we somehow just know who Roxanne is. Oh, she's totally his really really pissed off girlfriend pouting on the couch like 3 feet away from us. MissBalls and I decide to blow the joint before Roxanne throws some bones.
We head over to the Fuckit Shop. A beyond hammered Ken Doll looking type of man in Ken's actual khaki shorts stumbles up to me and MissBalls. Because we have mad game tonight. His name is Bart. Yes, Bart. He asks "can I taste you?". I gag. And say "no way, back up." He does not. Some nice older man comes to my rescue and gets Bart to buzz off. CAN I TASTE YOU? Have you ever heard anything that REPULSIVE? I don't even think it would be OK if Johnny "Why Haven't You Called Me I Sent You My Phone Number 63 Times" Depp said that to me. Well, maybe if he was dressed as Jack Sparrow. And he smelled nice.