Monday, March 16, 2009
Friday Night High Lights
Friday night was a pretty good night indeed.
My best bud Blake and I went out drinking (wont get into his whole home issues right now but we are paddling the same boat on 2 different creeks)
We were going to go to the rodeo but well that never happened.
We got to the parking lot and decided “hey lets go look up this girl we used to work with.”
Her name is Tina and boy she was a blast. She was very nice looking and could party most men under the table.
Therefore, off we go to a cigar bar in old town where we knew she had last worked. This is where I discovered the cool refreshing caress of Rolling Rock beer.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t worked there in 6 years.
Fortunately, a girl that used to work with her has some sort of federal task force tracking her or something because she knew exactly, where Tina was working.
So off we go again.
We were off to our new destination when Blake’s wife texted him and he explained where we were going and why.
He then spent the entire drive explaining to his concubine that he was NOT looking for another woman and blahblahblah.
Let me make a quick side note here and explain that Blake was always the superman of our little cache of friends. Of our little band of merry dorks he is the one that could always walk away with a woman (or 2) under his arm. The Bastard.
Anyway we make it to this place called Harrys which looks like a total dive on the outside but pretty awesome inside. There we found our prey Tina, who looked a little worse for wear but was still the charming woman we remembered. Ironically, our waitress was a woman we had gone to High School with. She recognized me immediately but talked almost exclusively to Blake. The Bastard.
So we sat there the night drinking Coronas and talking to our friends. Both of us looking like teenage girls as we texted while we talked.
Fortunately, I was lucky enough to be texting with 2 beautiful women I know, so I was having fun with them as well.
Well, he made up with his significant other and by the time we were ready to go he was getting dirty pictures and suggestive notes texted to him (The Bastard) and I was paying the $50 tab. He went home to hot drunken make up sex and I went home to a dark house.
I ended up on the couch, as my bed was full of kids again.
Now that I sit here and type this out, it sounds rather sad really.
Started out great but ended with one of those canned audience “AWWS” you here on every sitcom.
Why is it my life gets fucked more often then I do?
Not bitchin, just wondering.
OK. yeah I'm bitchin.
mentally regurgitated by ZomBee