It seems like a good idea to condense two nights of drunken mayhem into one blog of entertaining proportions.
Cinco de Mayo, or as I was calling it, Arizona Deportation Day was my mid-week drunken adventure. It was supposed to be casual fun with friends, nothing too over the top. Myself, Shew and the Animator were at our second bar for the evening when Shew decided we needed to do tequila shots. My first response was that I would throw up. I was overruled and the shots were poured.
About half of the tequila beast made it into my mouth before I spit it into the beer that sat on the table beside me. Shew then gave me a “pussy shot” to chase it. The mistake was that I chugged my beer to chase the second shot and now it was loaded with tequila. It was almost instantaneous. There was only time to turn my head as everything from dinner and the previous bar came rushing out of my mouth, splattering my left arm and the table next to me. When I told Shew and the Animator that I would throw up, I meant it. Shew passed me enough napkins to clean the mess I made up, but we had to leave before anyone noticed.
The second bar happened to be home to The Devil. If you don’t remember him, that’s the guy I dated about two years ago. He was great with games and messing with my head, I fed into it and became three kinds of crazy. We chatted a bit before my friends wanted to leave. The Devil suggested I return after getting food, but I couldn’t have stayed up that late even if I wanted to. I did text him later that night with a question. I have to wonder why he has a renewed interest in me when he claims to want to be single. He tells me he’s Devil Lite, but acts the way I remember all too well. Maybe that should be the sign that nothing has changed and I should stick to the lessons I’ve learned. During all of this I smelled like a homeless person covered in vomit.
Night number two was Friday and we were celebrating the Animator’s birthday a little early. Shew suggested we get him a gift, so we bought him a self pleasuring device. It’s this nifty little masturbating tool that has beads and jelly… the best gift anyone could ask for.
There were two interesting events that took place. The first being Paul the Pilot. Paul the Pilot is a guy I slept with six years ago after the last signing for my second novel. His description of me was: “You look confident.” I’ll take that as a good thing because when I responded with cocky he laughed and said no. It’s crazy that I would see him because we last saw each other the morning after our short affair on the other side of the country. The chances of us running into each other seem slim to none, apparently there’s no escaping the past.
The evening took a turn for the worst at the last bar when I realized that I had lost my phone. I left it in the back of a cab as I fumbled my way onto the street. This sent me into a panic. My phone is not only my social life, but it controls my entire work life and houses many important numbers. Shew and the Animator tried to keep me from having a melt down, but I was ready to throw myself from a window. I ended up back at Shew’s place, sending him to bed while I stayed up all night in a frenzy. The Sprint website received a workout as I tried to find anything that could help me turn off the phone and get a new one.
Sprint was less than helpful the next day. I went in to get a replacement phone only to find out that I was going to have to call some insurance place and wait several days for a new one to be mailed out. Days without a phone was not an option. Long story short, Shew talked me into getting an iPhone and making the jump back the evil AT&T. I ditched them as soon as Cingular was killed off because I hate AT&T, but I’m more annoyed at Sprint’s douche baggy-ness.
All the drunken fun has a happy ending because I again have a phone, I saw two different pieces of my past and survived, but most important: The weekend was a success because the Animator is satisfied.