Recap

So break finally ended. Not really much to say, except a few memorable events

1. Of course has to be the Blueman saga. I am currently writing it and dependent upon how lazy I really am, it should be up soon.

2. Another good one was a night over at Bruiser's bar and grill, a local eatery. While you won't find an address for it in any yellow pages, it exists. It exists like one of your grandpa's Shiners or Freemason's societies. Quiet like, with all sorts of strange rituals unfathomable by any of a good and sound character and disposition. The split level house offers two areas; one for nice couch sessions and another in the lower basement with room for a table. Under most circumstances and average nights of four or five degenerates drinking casually on Tuesday nights, it was employed as Beer Pong tables. Just casual games though.

But this particular night, one had been designated for Flippy Cup, a game I am not particularly fond of. The whole scene is just not really mine. The mess involved with trying to flip upturned cups that had been until recently been the proud receptacle of four oz. of low grade beever-piss, otherwise known as domestic beer. Mmmm... The problem is that no one ever truly finishes the entire beer due to the warmth of the mess, and usually end up flipping up the remains all over the table. Nice huh? But after having wrote that last paragraph, I realized that when compared to my game of choice, Beer Pong, it seems just as sloppy. I guess though, by the end of a night of drinking, it doesn't really matter. Everything is just sloppy.

With a Flippy cup and a Beer Pong table, the numbers of the party followed the normal trajectory of a Bruiser party: A few guys...A few more guys...A lot of girls...Bunch of people...And than a few guys once more. During one of the girls phases, a friend that I had gone to high school with showed up. She was more of an acquaintance really, and after I had done the standard hug and single question I made up some excuse about something and wandered off else where. But, one thing I realized a few minutes later was that she had brought a friend from school with her. I found out this fact and didn't really give it much thought; I mean, nothing to get strung about.

The night progressed as expected; there much consumption of cheap beer, smoking way too many cigarettes, and hitters being banged left and right. As per instruction. Than everything in the night was turned upside down in a single instant. It was the beginning, the impetus of making this night something actually worth writing about instead of the other twenty parties Bruiser threw over break. This is the actual conversation.

HER (leans forward across the table and whispers into my ear) "Hey, we have the same glasses. We should have sex."

ME (look at her) "Simple as that."

HER (leans back across the table and winks at me).

Yup.

I feel that a little background on the subject is necessary. I have a pair of Dolce and Gabbana (yes... I am sweet) glasses as she did too. The weren't the same exact same frames but nevertheless the brand seemed enough for her.

So with that in mind, we play a few more games. Of course...me, not taking the initiative, decided to get more drunk. So about twenty minutes later, I saw her walk up to the next level and decided to follow. Walked up the stairs and gave her a hug and the eye. The 'yup' look. Than it dawned on me. We don't have anywhere to go. So I found Bruiser, always a good man in a pinch.

"Hey man, can I uhh.. borrow your room?" Of course this was over the noise of the crowd so it had to be shouted a few times, allowing anyone close enough to be brought into the drama.

"Yeah, with who?"

"....The new one. That one?"

"Condoms in my book bag on the floor."

"Word."

I remerged from the lower level up into a room full of my idiot friends and her. I sauntered over to her and taking her hand started the long walk to the door up towards his room. All of the sudden, like the approach of a thunderstorm during a hot summer day, a chant was started by Winston, who when I informed him of the situation about twenty minutes earlier requested the assist. It began small, 'glasses...glasses...' with only a few hardcore assholes who knew the situation immediately and jumped on it like a pack of rabid dogs, but it grew. "Glasses...Glasses" It grew until everyone in the room was hollering at the top of the lungs.

"GLASSES....GLASSES..."

I have since talked to a few people there for the actual incident, and most of them didn't even know what they were yelling about, but were simply yelling for the pleasures of reaching high decibels.

After the sliding door was shut between the heathens and us, she turned and looked at me. "I feel like such a piece of meat."

"No, no, no." I am like Leon Phelps. Oh don't worry, the conversation gets no better from here. All those one liners most assholes feed drunk girls in this context just were not flowing. At all.

So off we went to his room. We got into bed and began making out. Now, she had one of those belts that chicks wear across their stomach to compensate for some other feature, be it a low self-esteem and embarrassment for size of their breasts (✓) or a stomach that everyone will stare at. Anyone who reads this, hear me out. Ain't nothing wrong with having small boobs; the only thing wrong with it is thinking its a handicap.

Anyways, I looked it up on J.C Penny's, evidentially they are called "waist belts." Here's a body slimming guide on waist belts says "Known for its magical ability to create form to even the most boxy of individuals, the waist belt is a sureshot way to maximize any feminine look." And I am not infering that she needed one of these, far from it, I am only saying that they look goofy as all hell.

After a few minutes of making out, I started to try and remove that fucking belt. And sorry to say, but I was entirely too drunk to manage. So I left it for later.

She leaned back and looked at me, "You know, You were the first guy that I saw when I walked in here."

Great, now thats a thing I really wanted to hear. I wonder if she usually ends up in some back room with a complete stranger that she happened to see first. Hope she keeps that stat up at school. So my eloquent and smooth response? "I am drunk." Hey when all else fails, damn the torpedos, full speed ahead.

"Me too."

Awesome.

A few more minutes of swapping salvia, and I return to the belt with a vengeance. I simply refused to be beaten by such a poor excuse like that. Alas, I suppose the factors of drunkenness, poor body positioning and being cursed from birth with fingers that were a poor excuse for a summer sausage. Again here it goes. "You know, I would love to see you naked, but this belt is giving me fits."

She just giggled.

I think that that was the moment when everything went downhill. Now I know most of my collective audience has been intoxicated, and that point in the night, nothing else really matters. It starts small. A little spinning, a little feeling of discomfort. Than there is the feeling of nauseous. Than its the feeling in the mouth. You know now. And usually its too late by then.

I kinda leaned back and sat up on the corner on the bed.

"You ok?"

I looked down at her, leaned in and gave her a kiss. "Yeah I am fine."

Bam.

I didn't even have to time to make it to the bathroom. Most of it went all over the floor, some on the door frame, some even believe it or not, ended up on the ceiling. I did make a little bit into the bathroom. So I am standing there, wiping out the little bit of vomit that actually made it into the sink when she walks up. I looked into the mirror and at her, and suddenly I just burst out laughing. I couldn't help it. The entire thing was too funny for me at the moment and I (obviously) couldn't handle it. The best part was when she was rubbing my back asking me if I was okay. Hmmm... So one minute I am about to have sex with you, the next I am scrubbing out vomit from the carpet. How do you think I feel?

So after I started cleaning it up for a few minutes, she made one of those awkward exits, " Umm.. I am going to go...downstairs." Riiigght.

After a good twenty minutes of scrubbing the carpet and just laughing at the entire thing, I went back downstairs and expected the worst. But since by then it was around 3 am, not that many people were left. Behemoth was the classic line of the night. "Chivalry only goes so far." No one believed that it was me, they all thought it was her. But truly the incident was much more hilarious, because it actually was me.

Yes. I rule.

More assorted assholes in my life...

Behemoth

With a strange penchant towards yellow lighters, this goofy bastard is known to drive real fast in his shiny car. I have personally had many lighters destroyed because this asshole thinks that yellow lighters are bad-luck. Bad Luck from a lighter…. Yup

Turtle

The dude loves to drive. Really and truly, this kid is a taxicab service waiting to happen. He spends up to eight hours a day in his car, and once told me he should open up a touring service for the back roads of Illinois. He would smoke with the clients and show them the great outdoors…

Drunkass

Never shy to either touch you with either his feet or his trouser snake, he is a testament that everything asshole. Loves to cause a scene and pretty consistently inform you of his current state of inebriation. “Man, I am so fucked up….”

Dr.Feelgood

A drunk driver extraordinaire, his exploits behind the wheel would make any highway patrol man weep instantly. His car is a sort of Frankenstein, he totaled it on one epic night last summer, and lo and behold, it was fixed earlier this year. Dabbles in research chemicals and is employed full time as a professional thief.

Crisp

"Goddamn what a car!" I think that most of my collective audience will agree that they have had at least one meal grilled by this Wino. Smoking clove cigarettes and driving extremely loud cars, this kid is quite proud of his ability to run really fast buck naked through neighborhoods at 3 am.

You Would Prefer to Think Otherwise

You Would Prefer to Think Otherwise….

Winter in the Midwest is a horrible time. While the snow might have the appearance of lending a calming atmosphere to an already bucolic scene, I knew better. The accumulation does odd things to men, each inch adding more madness to already wizened souls. The christians had come out to play in the long cold winter months and for the few of us left, it’s a dark time, full of tree trimming and other odd rituals that should have seemed archaic at one time or another in our great Western Civilization. The truly evil ones were winning once again, and with the writing on the wall, Alberto Gonzalez not recalling seemed to be the least of our worries. ‘It was him’ they would all shout while brandishing their pitchforks and torches, ‘Let the bastard pay for his crimes now.’ Yes indeed, it was a treacherous and vicious time, full of anguish at the thoughts of lost dreams and fears of what was to come. The Winter was like a great enveloping force, conquering anything in its path after rising from the squalid depths of whatever else gave spawn to the other evil little men of our generation like Tom Brokaw and Scooter Libby.

All of these thoughts seemed to resonate through my cranium at top speeds as I ventured out to my car for cigarettes. The time had indeed come for a test of true grit and valor; only the strong would survive this winter, leaving behind strewn wreckage in god-forsaken places like Wichita and Dubuque. As I walked out of my apartment, I tried to pass by my neighbor’s wide-open door quietly. The climate was not working for him; the poor bastard had taken to conventional methods of coping and the strong drink had reduced him to muttering wild and violent phrases under his breath and hollering at any weak-minded denizen who happened upon him in the dark reaches of this foul complex. I was in no mood for his badgering right now. Now was the time for answers and fast action, not reminiscing of times past. The fool would probably not last the end of the week before they got to him. It was only matter of time; behavior of those sorts was punishable to the highest degree and soon enough he would be hauled off to a processing center with other men of his kind. They would all be reduced to runny noses and groping themselves in dark and smelly places soon enough. As long as people of his ilk were off the streets and small children were safe once more, I saw no reason to get involved.

Somehow the pig had managed to knock the top hinge off of the door and it was hanging comically in the opening. I peeked around the frame and into his dwelling and saw exactly what was expected; the bastard had managed to throw everything onto the floor, and with Neil Diamond crooning softly in the background, it had the wicked appearance of some bizarre lost episode of the Twilight Zone.

“Yes! Let them buy me things” he shouted from his closet. “I will ask them for the receipts, and when I get them, they had better watch out.” He had fortunately not spotted me, but was simply yelling to the winds. “Lets all go to the mall and give them something. Something that they will not expect. Gift Cards!”

I leapt over the opening of his door, and slunk towards the exit. When I had safely reached the door leading outside, I turned and hollered down the hall at him, “You’re next, you crazy devil! They have got the place surrounded and are breaking down the back door right now. Save yourself, you swine!”

Let the bastard sleep on that. The only answer to my shouts seemed to be a low moan from the dilapidated entrance, an anxious plea against forces unseen, but present nonetheless…

I decided right then and there to venture out into the world and see the season’s true impact on this poor unsuspecting city. The Holiday sickness is a well-documented illness around these times. The panic that most people feel at this time is curable, but only by strong drink and remembering that each and everyone who becomes scatterbrained under this evil malady at one time didn’t always think of their fellow man in such evil terms.

The time for Christmas had past, it had begun in October and by the time December had rolled around we were all supposed to watch for shiny new exercise equipment for the New Year to loosen the pounds off the belly of the beast. Corporate America had poisoned the minds of thousands and an air of panic had descended upon the masses. No more were the simple pleasures of the season sufficient, instead capitalism determined that we were to be entertained by the giving of lead-tainted toys from little communist Chinamen and horrible fruit pies, baked with the intention of one-upping the neighbors. Somewhere Lee Iacocca is laughing fanatically and clapping his hands with glee….

The roads were terrible; none of the supposed Christmas spirits seemed to rub off onto the drivers. I was nearly knocked onto the shoulder by a leviathan SUV, “Pagan!” I shouted out the window at the culprit, “I hope a pack of rabid dogs gnaws your children’s presents and defecate on your walls.” I was in no mood to be trifled with. My doctor had recently refused to continue my prescription to anti-depressants and after I was subdued by two large orderlies, the quack had told me I was need of natural cures; something about how they were adversely affecting my liver. The whiskey was no good, he said. The poor fool failed to realize, of course, that I was a professional.

The mall was often a spot I went whenever I felt an uncharacteristic feeling of goodwill towards my fellow man. This was the ticket to cure any happiness. The packed stores were full of tidings of cheer and panicked shoppers who had come to the disturbing revelation that there was only one more day of shopping. An air of panic had descended upon the packed lines of crazed shoppers and snarling cashiers, which would all be reduced to a wild mob soon enough, and when the time came for anarchy, I was prepared. That’s where it would start; the overwhelming pressures of the season are sufficient to breakdown even the strongest christian, and mass hysteria would ensue. I had been quietly assembling the best arsenal money could buy and when the shit hit the fan, I would be ready. Who’s laughing now? Ho ho.