As many of you have noticed there have been no stories on my site for over a year now. When asked why my response was always “that kind of crazy shit just doesn’t happen to me anymore.” I chalked it up to maturing and becoming an adult as I watched the aura of my former self fade over the horizon like a winter sunset. It was strange to release that part of me in exchange for more adult activities but I just assumed it was time. That was until March when from the ashes of a break-up a Phoenix rose more powerful than ever.
I have been on fucking fire this month, rock stars have had less fun than I have. Almost non-stop drinking, partying and women. All of a sudden “that kind of crazy shit” did start happening again and luckily for me it started right around St Patrick’s Day. Here in Chicago, especially this year St. Patrick’s Day lasts a week, literally. The actual day fell on a Friday but the previous Saturday was the Downtown Parade, Sunday was the South side Irish Parade, and no one really seemed to take a break. Between the first streak of nice weather and a build in excuse to be an alcoholic this town turned into a week long college kegger.
The day of the Downtown parade I, like our entire staff, worked at the bar but by 11:00 P.M. everybody had drunk themselves retarded and I was cut. I took this opportunity to talk to a girl with who I had hooked up with a few years earlier, Melissa. I’ve always kind of had a thing for her but nothing ever really happened between us for various geographical and relationship issues, but at this moment she’s here and we’re single. We were bullshitting when all of a sudden she asked “Do you have weed at your apartment?” Of course I did. “Who do you think your talking to?” “Well if you want to go smoke I’ll make it worth your while.” And were off.
We smoke a bowl, make out and things are going well. I excuse my self to take a piss and give myself a pep talk. When I return however I find her passed out on the couch. I try to wake her and she explains her immediate need for a trashcan, in which she absolutely unleashes her stomach contents. When she’s finished I try to move her into the bedroom and after some arguing and struggling I finally get her in bed where she almost immediately rolls off the mattress hits her head on the nightstand, falls to the floor and again mutters “trashcan.” As I bring her the almost half full bucket o’ puke I begin to wonder if this is what she meant by making it worth my while. I give her a pillow and blanket and almost get kicked in the face trying to take off her shoes. I take a quick survey of the situation and realize that this is clearly going nowhere, it is only midnight I have a good 5 hours of drinking to do. I make sure the trashcan is with in reach and tell Melissa that I’m going out. She grunts something and passes out.
Confused by the turn of events but happy the puke didn’t end up on me this time, I wander to my local late night bar and it is packed with tail. I ignore my friends who are there and immediately go to work on a tall brunette with bright blue eyes. I’m funny, she’s drunk, and I know what happens next but suddenly I think, “Wait. What’s my plan here? Take her home and say ‘yeah, just move the drunk chick out of the way she’s passed out. It’ll be fine we’ll make it a two-and-a-half-some.’” I seriously consider it for a moment but decide instead to go to the one place I can be guaranteed there will be no attractive women. I head over to my bar
I belly up to the bar and begin to tell the story of what happened after I left. Some laugh some are sympathetic and others call me an asshole. I have a few beers and am just about to leave when one of my random hook-ups walks in. She sits next to me and after a little small talk I decide it’s the bottom of the ninth I’m 0 for 1 and it’s time to swing for the fences. If I’m going down it’s swinging. I turn to her and say “I’m going to the back bathroom, come blow me.” With out another word I get up and do exactly what I said I would. 10 seconds later there is a knock at the door. “Cam? You in there.”
It could be. It might be. It is. A homerun.
Sunday, 16 April 2006
Cameron Tries Altruism, Is Rewarded Handsomely
One of my best friends George just broke up with his live in 2-year girlfriend. Upon hearing the news I told him I was sorry, he called me a liar and I told him I felt it would be inappropriate to dance a jig on the bar.
To say his ex and I didn’t get along would be like saying the Holocaust was unpleasant for the Jews. I referred to her almost exclusively as “George’s chick” and would constantly ask him in front of her “when are you going to break up with this bitch?” Which at one point caused her to dump a drink on me. There was some tension. Unfortunately, George actually loved this one and at her request he and I started hanging out less and less. Luckily with her gone the dynamic duo are reunited and with me just coming out of a rather serious relationship we can commiserate and get really, really drunk together.
Saturday night George, myself and four other buddies went out to show him what he had been missing from single life. I was determined to get him laid and since I have been having a hall-of-fame month batting in the .750 range with 6 home runs I figured an RBI would look good on my resume too. I explain to him that “tonight your cock is my cock” and then slapped him in the balls because that is the retarded, juvenile slightly homo-erotic game we play. I then tell him to quit crying and get his game face on.
The next four hours are a blur of a dozen or so bars. I hit on every acceptable piece of tail I see and then just point them at George. Noting is taking. He’s still a little too depressed to take full advantage of the soft-balls I’m lobbing at him and we continue to bounce from bar to bar. I keep setting him up and he keeps whiffing. I pull him a side and offer him some inspirational words. Something along the lines of “What’s your fucking deal fag? I’m throwing snatch at you and you’re just sitting the pouting because that whore broke up with you? Guess what? She fucking sucked and the best thing you can do right now is fuck the shit out of some random. You do still like pussy right? Because after you performance tonight I’m starting to wonder.” That seemed to do the trick. He began to perk up. We’re right back in the game. We walk out of the bar at the night takes a horrible turn.
I see a familiar face on the street and turn to grab George but it’s too late he’s seen what I have. His ex, her tits almost falling out of her skimpy hooker top arm in arm with another guy. Their eyes lock and in George’s face I see the hurt, anger and confusion that I know all too well. Fuck. I have many options here but I decide to do what any good friend would do. I stepped back and let George take a swing at the guy.
By the expression on his face you could tell the poor bastard had no idea what was going on all he could be sure of it this was gonna suck. George landed a blow, which knocked the guy into the street where he nearly got hit by a car. This got everybody’s attention and the cries of “Fight!” rang loud in the chaotic night. Suddenly the reality of the situation hit me like George’s fist on an unsuspecting guy in the wrong place at the wrong time. I look around and realize that, just like every other Saturday night on Division there are three occupied cop cars about half a block away. It wouldn’t have been a huge deal but in our possession was a substance that when added to assault, disturbing the peace, and public intoxication equals jail time. I act quickly, grab George and throw him into the first cab I see. He is screaming like a fucking baboon and everyone is trying to console him which is making him angrier and angrier.
We go to another bar I send everyone in and tell George we’re taking a walk. We go back to my apartment and I begin to talk him down. I speak from a deeper wisdom I was unaware I possessed. I drew on my recent experience my friendship with George and my observations of his relationship. All the while exercising the versatility of the word fuck. It was a fucking masterpiece. I was amazed at my self. More importantly though, it worked. George was finally calm and we met up with the guys at the bar.
When I walked in surprise number two of the evening was sitting at the bar. Kelly, a girl from high school. Without getting into too much detail Kelly may have been one of the most unhealthy experiences I have ever had with a girl. While I realize that’s like a alcoholic picking out the worst drink he ever had she will always stand out as a disaster. She approached me and we talked for a while when finally I saw an opening. “You know how many favors you owe me? I’m cashing them all in right now. That’s my buddy George. He’s had a rough night and you’re going to go fuck him.” She looks over and says, “Ok, he’s cute.” and walks toward him. I motion to George to let him what’s going on and leave them alone. My job here is done, no-one could boot this lay-up. Kelly was there with Audrey another girl from high school who just moved to Chicago and essentially immediately started fucking me. She grabs me and tells me she is moving tomorrow. I shrug apathetically but she immediately gets my attention “I’m leaving tomorrow. I need your cock in my mouth tonight.” Now I’m listening. “Alright, I have to go take care of something but we’ll at your apartment in half an hour.” “Who’s we?” “Kelly and I.”
On a night where my only goal is to get my friend laid, I go home with two girls. All this time I thought the gods punished hubris.
To say his ex and I didn’t get along would be like saying the Holocaust was unpleasant for the Jews. I referred to her almost exclusively as “George’s chick” and would constantly ask him in front of her “when are you going to break up with this bitch?” Which at one point caused her to dump a drink on me. There was some tension. Unfortunately, George actually loved this one and at her request he and I started hanging out less and less. Luckily with her gone the dynamic duo are reunited and with me just coming out of a rather serious relationship we can commiserate and get really, really drunk together.
Saturday night George, myself and four other buddies went out to show him what he had been missing from single life. I was determined to get him laid and since I have been having a hall-of-fame month batting in the .750 range with 6 home runs I figured an RBI would look good on my resume too. I explain to him that “tonight your cock is my cock” and then slapped him in the balls because that is the retarded, juvenile slightly homo-erotic game we play. I then tell him to quit crying and get his game face on.
The next four hours are a blur of a dozen or so bars. I hit on every acceptable piece of tail I see and then just point them at George. Noting is taking. He’s still a little too depressed to take full advantage of the soft-balls I’m lobbing at him and we continue to bounce from bar to bar. I keep setting him up and he keeps whiffing. I pull him a side and offer him some inspirational words. Something along the lines of “What’s your fucking deal fag? I’m throwing snatch at you and you’re just sitting the pouting because that whore broke up with you? Guess what? She fucking sucked and the best thing you can do right now is fuck the shit out of some random. You do still like pussy right? Because after you performance tonight I’m starting to wonder.” That seemed to do the trick. He began to perk up. We’re right back in the game. We walk out of the bar at the night takes a horrible turn.
I see a familiar face on the street and turn to grab George but it’s too late he’s seen what I have. His ex, her tits almost falling out of her skimpy hooker top arm in arm with another guy. Their eyes lock and in George’s face I see the hurt, anger and confusion that I know all too well. Fuck. I have many options here but I decide to do what any good friend would do. I stepped back and let George take a swing at the guy.
By the expression on his face you could tell the poor bastard had no idea what was going on all he could be sure of it this was gonna suck. George landed a blow, which knocked the guy into the street where he nearly got hit by a car. This got everybody’s attention and the cries of “Fight!” rang loud in the chaotic night. Suddenly the reality of the situation hit me like George’s fist on an unsuspecting guy in the wrong place at the wrong time. I look around and realize that, just like every other Saturday night on Division there are three occupied cop cars about half a block away. It wouldn’t have been a huge deal but in our possession was a substance that when added to assault, disturbing the peace, and public intoxication equals jail time. I act quickly, grab George and throw him into the first cab I see. He is screaming like a fucking baboon and everyone is trying to console him which is making him angrier and angrier.
We go to another bar I send everyone in and tell George we’re taking a walk. We go back to my apartment and I begin to talk him down. I speak from a deeper wisdom I was unaware I possessed. I drew on my recent experience my friendship with George and my observations of his relationship. All the while exercising the versatility of the word fuck. It was a fucking masterpiece. I was amazed at my self. More importantly though, it worked. George was finally calm and we met up with the guys at the bar.
When I walked in surprise number two of the evening was sitting at the bar. Kelly, a girl from high school. Without getting into too much detail Kelly may have been one of the most unhealthy experiences I have ever had with a girl. While I realize that’s like a alcoholic picking out the worst drink he ever had she will always stand out as a disaster. She approached me and we talked for a while when finally I saw an opening. “You know how many favors you owe me? I’m cashing them all in right now. That’s my buddy George. He’s had a rough night and you’re going to go fuck him.” She looks over and says, “Ok, he’s cute.” and walks toward him. I motion to George to let him what’s going on and leave them alone. My job here is done, no-one could boot this lay-up. Kelly was there with Audrey another girl from high school who just moved to Chicago and essentially immediately started fucking me. She grabs me and tells me she is moving tomorrow. I shrug apathetically but she immediately gets my attention “I’m leaving tomorrow. I need your cock in my mouth tonight.” Now I’m listening. “Alright, I have to go take care of something but we’ll at your apartment in half an hour.” “Who’s we?” “Kelly and I.”
On a night where my only goal is to get my friend laid, I go home with two girls. All this time I thought the gods punished hubris.
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