Back in my 20's, before I went to nursing school, I would go out drinking quite often. I am happy drunk, a very LOUD, but happy drunk. I usually don't puke. I definitely am not a fighter or a crying chick when I drink. I just get a little mouthy.
Jimrie, Luke and I went out drinking. Luke was going to drive and take care of us; Jimrie and I were going to get smashed. That was the plan. So we went to a little dive bar out of town. We knew the bartender; the place had pool tables and great music on the jukebox.
We were playing pool and drinking, having a good time. I can't remember what pool game we were playing, but I was "out" and Jimrie and Luke were playing against each other. I put some money in the jukebox and picked some songs. I then went to the bar, sat down and started to talk with the bartender.
There was this creepy man that kept staring at me. I asked the bartender about him and she said he was always there and was always trying to pick up women. I was hoping this guy would stay away from me. I had a good buzz, there were good tunes playing, I didn't want to be bothered.
NO SUCH LUCK.
The creepy man picked up his drink and moved to my side of the bar and sat a few bar stools away from me. I tried to ignore him. Jimrie and Luke finished their game and came over to hang out. I felt like I had a reprieve. Just then about a dozen, leather clad bikers come in the door. Jimrie jumps up and yells "Uncle so and so, where have you been?" She runs off to see her Uncle. Next thing I know, some old man comes up to Luke and says "Marine, I want to shake your hand." Luke shakes the man's hand and they start to talk about the Marine Corps. Once again, I am alone.
The creepy man moves right next to me and says; "Do you work out?"
I tell him no.
He says, "You look like you work out."
I say, "I used to go to the gym, but I injured my shoulder."
He says, "Was is the weight of you breasts that injured your shoulder?"
I replied "What?"
He said; "Your breasts are so large, I would think that it would put a lot of strain on your shoulders".
What kind of pick up line is that? What the hell? I looked around and there was no one around to save me. I had to go it alone...
I climbed up the barstool and stood up on the bar. I yelled really loud "Excuse me, excuse me."
The bar got quiet. I had everyone's attention.
"This man has just informed me that my boobs are big. I had no idea. All these years of black eyes and fat lips after running, I had no idea. All these years of men looking down when they talked to me, I thought they were admiring my necklace. All these years of shoulder and back pain, I had no idea. I want to thank you, sir. Thank you for pointing this out to me. Everything makes sense now. I want to buy you a drink."
I stepped off the bar, got back on my bar stool and took a swig of my beer. The guy got up and walked out of the bar. I received a round of applause. No one talked about my boobs the rest of the night.
Showing posts with label Drunk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Drunk. Show all posts
Monday, March 16, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
My Mom Has A Reputation In The Cast Room
For some reason, my Mom liked to marry US Marines. My Father (biological), her first husband, was an USMC helicopter pilot. There was never a woman who was less appropriate for the role as an USMC Officer's Wife. My mom was constantly getting my Father in trouble when they were married. She didn't like to follow the rules and he paid the price. If you met my father, you would wonder how the two of them ever thought it was a good idea to get married.
My Dad (Step-father), her second husband, was...you guessed it, an USMC helicopter pilot! Luckily, when they married, he went from active duty to the USMC reserves. There was no more living on base, no more day to day duties of the Marine Corps wife, all my mom had to do was behave herself once a year at the Marine Corps ball. Every year, around the "Birthday" of the USMC (November 10th), US Marines around the world hold a formal "Birthday Ball". If you have never heard of the Marine Corps Ball, think of it as the Senior Prom for Marines, except you have to behave like an adult. The behaving part was never my mother's strong suit.
When I was a kid, every year the Jaycee's in town would have a big fundraiser. One year, they chose to hold their event in October and have an Oktoberfest theme. My mom, being the good German girl that she was, looked forward to going. She got her two German immigrant friends, Ingrid and Trixie, to buy tickets as well. The night of the party came and I remember my mom getting ready. She was very excited, especially since she just got new shoes and planned to wear them that evening. It was the 70's, so of course the shoes were platforms. I remember waving good-bye as my mom and dad, along with their friends, drove off that night. The next morning, I went into my mom's bedroom to see how the night went. She didn't look good. Her eyes were bloodshot, her skin had a greenish pallor and she had a bunch of scratches on her arms. I asked her what happened.
My mom and her German friends got really drunk. They had a great time. The whole place was decorated like a German beer garden during the fall. The centerpieces for the tables were pumpkins and other gourds. My mom and her friends decided to take the pumpkins home with them when they left. As they were walking down the hill to their car, someone dropped a pumpkin. My mom saw the pumpkin roll by and yelled; "It's the Great Pumpkin, we have to save the Great Pumpkin!' She then started to run down the hill after said pumpkin. On her way, one of her platform shoes landed in a pothole, she fell off her shoes and BROKE BOTH HER FEET. She had a plaster cast up to the knee on one leg and a removable brace on the other foot. This would suck under any circumstances, but it was especially bad because the Marine Corps Ball was in 3 weeks.
My mom had a long steel blue dress especially made for the ball. It had shiny gold buttons on the bodice. To match the buttons, she bought a gold purse and gold sandals. There was no way she was going to be able to wear the sandals. So what did my mom do? She spray-painted the "shoe" that went over the plaster cast and the brace that went on the other foot, Gold. If her feet poked out from under the dress, she would still match.
The night of ball came and off they went; my dad in his dress blues and my mom, in her steel blue gown, gold purse and gold "shoes". Once again, my mom imbibed a little too much. My dad found her; drunk, with a bunch of wives in the corner of the ballroom, dress up around her waist showing off her gold "shoes". The Colonel's wife, who was from Alabama, was hollering; " Does anybody here have a writin' stick?" Another drunken southern belle hollered back; " I don't have a writin' stick, but I gots me a lipstick!" The Colonel's wife decided that was good enough and the whole group proceeded to sign my mom's plaster cast with hot pink lipstick. After they were done signing her cast, my dad poured my mom into the car and took her home. Despite being drunk off her ass, my mom was cognizant enough to know that lipstick smears. So, she wrapped her cast in saran wrap before she went to bed.
The next morning, my mom's cast was a hot pink soggy mess. After a Bloody Mary and a few aspirin, off we went to Kaiser to get my mom a new cast. Since my mom was really good at drinking, but not so well at walking, this was not our first trip to the cast room. The cast tech, named Thermador, was very familiar with my mom. The look on his face when he saw my mom's soggy lipstick covered cast and her gold spray-painted shoes, was priceless. Thermador still works at Kaiser. Every time he sees my mom in the halls, his eyes light up, a big smile stretches across his face, he winks at her and says; "Now you be careful, Miz Joanie", I hear him chuckle as he walks away.
My Dad (Step-father), her second husband, was...you guessed it, an USMC helicopter pilot! Luckily, when they married, he went from active duty to the USMC reserves. There was no more living on base, no more day to day duties of the Marine Corps wife, all my mom had to do was behave herself once a year at the Marine Corps ball. Every year, around the "Birthday" of the USMC (November 10th), US Marines around the world hold a formal "Birthday Ball". If you have never heard of the Marine Corps Ball, think of it as the Senior Prom for Marines, except you have to behave like an adult. The behaving part was never my mother's strong suit.
When I was a kid, every year the Jaycee's in town would have a big fundraiser. One year, they chose to hold their event in October and have an Oktoberfest theme. My mom, being the good German girl that she was, looked forward to going. She got her two German immigrant friends, Ingrid and Trixie, to buy tickets as well. The night of the party came and I remember my mom getting ready. She was very excited, especially since she just got new shoes and planned to wear them that evening. It was the 70's, so of course the shoes were platforms. I remember waving good-bye as my mom and dad, along with their friends, drove off that night. The next morning, I went into my mom's bedroom to see how the night went. She didn't look good. Her eyes were bloodshot, her skin had a greenish pallor and she had a bunch of scratches on her arms. I asked her what happened.
My mom and her German friends got really drunk. They had a great time. The whole place was decorated like a German beer garden during the fall. The centerpieces for the tables were pumpkins and other gourds. My mom and her friends decided to take the pumpkins home with them when they left. As they were walking down the hill to their car, someone dropped a pumpkin. My mom saw the pumpkin roll by and yelled; "It's the Great Pumpkin, we have to save the Great Pumpkin!' She then started to run down the hill after said pumpkin. On her way, one of her platform shoes landed in a pothole, she fell off her shoes and BROKE BOTH HER FEET. She had a plaster cast up to the knee on one leg and a removable brace on the other foot. This would suck under any circumstances, but it was especially bad because the Marine Corps Ball was in 3 weeks.
My mom had a long steel blue dress especially made for the ball. It had shiny gold buttons on the bodice. To match the buttons, she bought a gold purse and gold sandals. There was no way she was going to be able to wear the sandals. So what did my mom do? She spray-painted the "shoe" that went over the plaster cast and the brace that went on the other foot, Gold. If her feet poked out from under the dress, she would still match.
The night of ball came and off they went; my dad in his dress blues and my mom, in her steel blue gown, gold purse and gold "shoes". Once again, my mom imbibed a little too much. My dad found her; drunk, with a bunch of wives in the corner of the ballroom, dress up around her waist showing off her gold "shoes". The Colonel's wife, who was from Alabama, was hollering; " Does anybody here have a writin' stick?" Another drunken southern belle hollered back; " I don't have a writin' stick, but I gots me a lipstick!" The Colonel's wife decided that was good enough and the whole group proceeded to sign my mom's plaster cast with hot pink lipstick. After they were done signing her cast, my dad poured my mom into the car and took her home. Despite being drunk off her ass, my mom was cognizant enough to know that lipstick smears. So, she wrapped her cast in saran wrap before she went to bed.
The next morning, my mom's cast was a hot pink soggy mess. After a Bloody Mary and a few aspirin, off we went to Kaiser to get my mom a new cast. Since my mom was really good at drinking, but not so well at walking, this was not our first trip to the cast room. The cast tech, named Thermador, was very familiar with my mom. The look on his face when he saw my mom's soggy lipstick covered cast and her gold spray-painted shoes, was priceless. Thermador still works at Kaiser. Every time he sees my mom in the halls, his eyes light up, a big smile stretches across his face, he winks at her and says; "Now you be careful, Miz Joanie", I hear him chuckle as he walks away.
Monday, January 21, 2008
BUI
(Blogging under the influence)
While it technically is the 21st, I have not gone to bed yet and in my tipsy state, it is still my birthday. I just turned 39. Thanks to everyone for the lovely birthday comments, messages, emails, voicemails, calls, carrier pigeon notes, etc.
Sleazy Bastard and his Kool-Aid started off the festivities with a giggling middle of the night call. It was wonderful to finally hear Kool-Aid's voice along with the much-missed laughter of my favorite Sleazy Bastard. Thank you guys!
Several hours later, the family phone calls started. My mom called me. I think she forgot why she was calling me. Instead of starting off with the obligatory "Happy Birthday", she spent a good 15 minutes telling me about how much clearer her vision is since she had cataract/vision correction surgery on her eye on Friday. Yes, I said eye. My mom has a prosthetic eye and a "real" eye. While she was yammering on and on about how she now could buy "fun" sunglasses and "wild" reading glasses, I kind of zoned out. When she started to describe the neighbor's house in detail to me, I tuned back in and realized how impaired her vision was prior to the surgery. She has been averaging about 1.5 car accidents per year...I thought she was a spaz and a crappy driver. Now I know she is a spaz, a crappy driver and was practically blind! Before she ended the call she remembered to wish me a happy birthday and I thanked her for giving birth to me.
The next phone call was from my sweet, Polish, mother-in-law. I love this woman. She is the best mother-in-law in the whole world. This is how the conversation went:
Me: Hello Mamcia!
Her: Hall-o Mee shell. Haappee Birsday Sweetee. I love you Hunee. Oh Hunee, I vaz so seek and I have you card, but I deed not send. I hope you forgeeve me, Hunee.
Me: Oh Mamcia, I love you. Don't worry about the card, the call from you is all I need.
Her: But Hunee, I feels so badt. I did not send card.
Me: Mamusia, it is okay. It is good to hear your voice. Are you getting better?
She then went on to tell me about her cold and her doctor for about 5 minutes. Then she changed the subject.
Her: So, Mee Shell. Tell me. How many spring has zit bean?
Me: Pardon?
Her: How many spring have you had Hunee?
Me: Oh! This will be my 39th spring.
Her: Ahhh. Zis iz zee last spring for you Hunee. Zen you will be no spring cheekun!
Later in the afternoon, we went to Mr. Misha's oldest brother's house for my birthday celebration. Because it was my day, I got to use this plate:
While it technically is the 21st, I have not gone to bed yet and in my tipsy state, it is still my birthday. I just turned 39. Thanks to everyone for the lovely birthday comments, messages, emails, voicemails, calls, carrier pigeon notes, etc.
Sleazy Bastard and his Kool-Aid started off the festivities with a giggling middle of the night call. It was wonderful to finally hear Kool-Aid's voice along with the much-missed laughter of my favorite Sleazy Bastard. Thank you guys!
Several hours later, the family phone calls started. My mom called me. I think she forgot why she was calling me. Instead of starting off with the obligatory "Happy Birthday", she spent a good 15 minutes telling me about how much clearer her vision is since she had cataract/vision correction surgery on her eye on Friday. Yes, I said eye. My mom has a prosthetic eye and a "real" eye. While she was yammering on and on about how she now could buy "fun" sunglasses and "wild" reading glasses, I kind of zoned out. When she started to describe the neighbor's house in detail to me, I tuned back in and realized how impaired her vision was prior to the surgery. She has been averaging about 1.5 car accidents per year...I thought she was a spaz and a crappy driver. Now I know she is a spaz, a crappy driver and was practically blind! Before she ended the call she remembered to wish me a happy birthday and I thanked her for giving birth to me.
The next phone call was from my sweet, Polish, mother-in-law. I love this woman. She is the best mother-in-law in the whole world. This is how the conversation went:
Me: Hello Mamcia!
Her: Hall-o Mee shell. Haappee Birsday Sweetee. I love you Hunee. Oh Hunee, I vaz so seek and I have you card, but I deed not send. I hope you forgeeve me, Hunee.
Me: Oh Mamcia, I love you. Don't worry about the card, the call from you is all I need.
Her: But Hunee, I feels so badt. I did not send card.
Me: Mamusia, it is okay. It is good to hear your voice. Are you getting better?
She then went on to tell me about her cold and her doctor for about 5 minutes. Then she changed the subject.
Her: So, Mee Shell. Tell me. How many spring has zit bean?
Me: Pardon?
Her: How many spring have you had Hunee?
Me: Oh! This will be my 39th spring.
Her: Ahhh. Zis iz zee last spring for you Hunee. Zen you will be no spring cheekun!
Later in the afternoon, we went to Mr. Misha's oldest brother's house for my birthday celebration. Because it was my day, I got to use this plate:
We had a lovely dinner and then it was time for cake. Bob lit my candles:
It was a lovely cake. Chocolate, my favorite with purple candles, my favorite color:
We had cake and ice cream, I opened my presents and then we went back to our house to meet up with our friends, Mike and Deb.
We went to San Francisco and saw The Late Late Show's Craig Ferguson.
We went to San Francisco and saw The Late Late Show's Craig Ferguson.
He was hysterical. After, we went to a bar in North Beach and had some cocktails. Then we went to Burgermeister and had yummy burgers, garlic fries and beer. Then we came home. It was a wonderful birthday.
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I want to warn all of you that on Tuesday, January 22nd, I will be participating in "BLOGGING FOR CHOICE DAY". It won't be funny. It will be long. If you choose to comment, please be respectful and polite and I will do the same. Please do not post graphic photos. I am a believer of the first amendment, but I will delete abusive, hateful or offensive comments. If this topic is upsetting for you, for whatever reason, just skip my blog post on that day.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I want to warn all of you that on Tuesday, January 22nd, I will be participating in "BLOGGING FOR CHOICE DAY". It won't be funny. It will be long. If you choose to comment, please be respectful and polite and I will do the same. Please do not post graphic photos. I am a believer of the first amendment, but I will delete abusive, hateful or offensive comments. If this topic is upsetting for you, for whatever reason, just skip my blog post on that day.
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