The last diary entry was a belated post from 4/20, which I should have put in “diary” in the first place. This one is kind of a continuation.
I found out later that Dempsey’s did charge a cover, but if you were in before the band started you were cool. And they didn't charge the regulars any cover. Still, it was only two bucks. But hey, two bucks is two bucks. That was two beers – ¾ of the way to a good buzz!
The bar changed hands (again). The bartender denied it, but it was just too obvious. First, and most troubling to me, they discontinued the dollar Rolling Rocks. Both bartenders, who were part owners, disappeared, and there was this goofy kid with his Cubs hat on backwards tending bar. They have another new bartender, too, a very attractive blonde.
But Friday... oh my, I fell in lust badly. Here is a sorry tale of the evils of drink, and how to not get laid.
And I'm thinking of starting a record company.
It was hot in my building at work Friday. And my brain wasn't functioning properly. I thought it was because I forgot to take my Paxil Thursday morning and didn't take it until lunch, but everybody else complained about their being scatterbrained, as well.
Evil-X never showed up to take Patty to school that morning.
At lunch, Married Lady gave me a ride to the bank, gave Patty a ride to school, and I bought Married Lady an ice cream at McDonalds. The tease, she always unbuttons her top button when she drops by my cube. Married lady was complaining about being scatterbrained even, and she's normally scatterbrained.
I took a two hour vacation and left work early. K5 was down, so I read some of my spam from loser.com (the dating site). Popped open a beer and drank it on the front porch, and watched the cars go by. Daughter was at the mall with her friends by then. I went for a walk after I finished the beer.
Right as I was crossing the railroad tracks it started sprinkling, so I walked into the Track Shack. Bought a beer to bide my time until it quit raining. There were a few ugly women there, and a bunch of construction worker type guys. I found out what it was with all the dollar bills thumbtacked to the ceiling.
There is a kind of game there – put the dollar on the ceiling. It's a high ceiling, 12 feet or higher. There are dollar bills thumbtacked all over it.
The game is, you get a thumbtack from the bartender, stick it through the dollar, put two quarters on the head of the thumbtack, and toss it to the ceiling as hard as you can. Some fat chick, just turned 21, stuck one on her 2nd try!
But I digress. I finished my beer and the weather got worse, so I bought a bucket. The tornado sirens went off. I borrowed Jason's phone and called home – no answer. Called my cell, which my daughter had. Either it was shut off, she was in a basement and couldn't get a signal, or a tornado had snatched it out of her hand and smashed it. Worried sick, I finished the rest of the beers in the bucket. The weather passed, and I hurried home.
There were a whole bunch of messages on the answering machine, from my daughters. I was even more worried about my oldest daughter, since she had moved in with Evil-X, and Evil-X lives in a house trailer, y'all.
Oldest was worried that I get the cats in the basement, she was at the civic center basement in the town they live in, right outside Springfield. Youngest was in the mall basement worried about me.
Relieved, I decided to walk some more. I hate sitting home on Friday night. Decided to go down to Dempsey’s and see if they had a band and if it was any good.
Now mind you, I'd already killed more than a six pack. I was already way over the amount I normally drink. I was way buzzed, but good.
There was a band playing, and I couldn't tell you what genre of music it was. I've never heard anything remotely like it. There was a jazz drummer, a rock guitarist, an electric banjo player, and a conga player. I kind of knew the conga player, if not his name. He had been in the bar before as a patron several times, you couldn't miss him. Really tall, skinny white guy with waist length blond hair done up in Jamaican dreadlocks.
He had been in the crowd on 4-20. A lot of the same crowd was there. Hippie Chick and Nerd Girl were there. They both seemed to have gained a bit of weight in the last month.
And I noticed I was sitting next to the thinnest girl I've ever seen.
Now, in my youth, I was really attracted to skinny girls. The X was mostly normal sized, except the times she got fat. Sometimes really fat, over 250 pounds at times. I thought I was over my love of the skinny chicks – but I found I was wrong.
This woman was wearing a top that was barely a top at all, a cloth tied in the back in two places, belly button showing. Not a bad face... of course, I was drunk, for all I know if I saw her sober she'd be a dog. Now, I've never been one to chase big boobs. It's not like E cups turn me off, it's just that I've always felt that tits were for babies. This lady's chest was underdeveloped even for my tastes, but I was in lust, nonetheless.
I caught her eye (Lord that was a loud banjo) and remembered something from one of the kiddie shows my children watched when they were little. I pointed to my eye, slapped my chest, and pointed at Anorexia. She laughed. Between songs she said “I'm with him” and pointed to the Conga player.
She was up and dancing, and with every sip of beer my lust grew. As with every little wiggle of Anorexia's fifteen inch waist and twenty inch hips.
The band took a break and walked outside. I walked out for some fresh air, away from the tobacco smoke.
I smelled another certain, peculiar, sweet smell. Eyes darting around I saw it: a big fattie. “Can I get a toke of that, man?” ...and became part of the circle, which was mostly made up of the band. Named, oddly but fittingly, the Green Grass Pickers.
“You guys have a CD?” Nope. Can't afford it. “Dude, all you need is a computer!”
“Can't afford one.” Of course – musical equipment is expensive. Doesn't leave much cash for anything else. I offered to record them, and that made 'em really happy. Of course, I'm going to have to find some way to get hold of them before their next gig, because my van's busted.
After the doob had gone around a few times I was handed a big, but dead, roach. I lit it. “You don't smoke cigarettes?” someone asked.
“Nope. Quit 3 years ago” I replied.
“But you have a lighter?”
“Well, lighting a lady's butt is a way to break the ice.”
“And you smoke pot?”
“Well, not very often. But yeah. When I get a chance.”
I lit the roach, took a big toke, passed it around again. It was a little roach when it came back. Handed it to Dreaddude, “It's short and out.” We all went in. They started playing again.
When Anorexia had told me she was with Dreaddude, I kept staring hungrily but left her alone, and hit on one or two other chicks who, as usual, weren't impressed. Now, Anorexia was all of a sudden interested in me. “I'm not really his girlfriend or anything, I just follow the band.”
We chatted and talked and... Jesus please let me have this woman!
No such luck. The room started spinning. I walked out for some air. Staggered down the street so if I puked it would be in front of a different bar... sat down on the sidewalk, resting against the building... the whole town was spinning.
When a quart of foam spewed back out, I realized without a doubt that I was miserable and would likely be worse in the morning. I marshaled my Prana Yoga, gathered up my Zen and stood up. Slowly if a bit unsteadily, I walked the two miles home.
Without the skinniest girl I've ever seen. She'll probably be dead from malnutrition before I ever see her again. But I don't know if I've ever lusted after a woman so badly.