Episode 14: Sometimes The Night Can Get Out Of Hand

What's up losers?

Now I know that many *cough* most of my tales begin with drinking or the attempt to drink. So you're probably sick of these kinds of stories. Actually, the more I write them the more I begin to search around my community for an AA meeting. But hey, you are only an alcoholic if you need it to start your day...

Anyways! I want to write a story about a night that got out of hand really fast. Okay, maybe not out of hand...but just weird. Now I have a lot to cover in one post so this may become a double post. Especially because there was a moment where two story lines were running parallel to each other during the night. 

It all begins with a line longer than the Rolling Stones career. I'm not kidding. I have in fact never seen a line this long to get into a club. Oh and did I mention it was hotter than Satans asshole out?  But my two bestest buds and I decided that would go out and damn it that's what we were going to do. 

So we sucked it up and got in line. All we kept saying was, "it can't be that bad, we'll be in there for sure in like an hour". 

False. 

At first we moved pretty quickly. We made friends, people were leaving the line, things were looking up. But then shit got real. 

At first, it was only a couple people. Okay fine, some people cutting in wasn't the end of the world. Just an extra 5 minutes. But then all hell broke lose. Some kids who were all under age, and I mean like 16 all of sudden cut in front of us. Now my friend and I are reasonable people. We can handle the idiots of the world MOST of the time.  Bring it on. All of sudden they were hailing almost every bitch in line to get in front of us. I'm talking like not even 50 Cent has these many bitches. Well my friend and I have short tempers. Okay, I may have said earlier we were reasonable. I lied. We glared those bitches down and I'm pretty sure one of them mumbled "I don't want to cut in line in case I get punched." I was like "That's right bitch...move it along" Okay I didn't actually say that...but it would've made me feel more like Clint Eastwood. 

So we waited in this line designed by Satan himself, behind these douches who kept letting people in. 3 hours passed. Yes 3 hours. That's fucking dedication right there. We WOULD get drunk. Then this guy, who looked strangely like Robert Downey Jr. tried to cut in with us. We were like nu uh. He even offered us money and we shut him down like Katie Holmes. He moved along. But that wasn't the only part he played in our story. (I am imagining a movie where Robert Downey Jr. actually plays this guy. Or maybe if he ever sabotages his career again, we can make a tv sitcom which will probably get cancelled half way through the season. I'm hopeful).

Anyways, as we moved along like cattle through a shoot we were bombarded by drunken idiots, teens making-out and just general disgust. Then a glimmer of light. We saw him, like a beacon  in a never ending tunnel of despair. Robert. Downey. Jr. We made small talk, he asked if we wanted to cut in with him. We promptly declined as we had been bitching the whole time about how much only douche bags do that. Then I saw them. Right behind him stood the original 16-year-old douches we had fought with earlier. I didn't even think twice before I was up and over to the other side with him. We felt as though we should be doing a fucking victory dance. Then he began to entertain us with his ridiculous accents and impressions. Suddenly life was looking good. We started to let other people in. Laughing, joking and just generally feeling as though we had conquered fucking Mount Doom. The club entrance was actually close, we could smell the faint stink of sadness, lonliness and sweat mixed with beer. We breathed it in deep, to us it smelt like freedom. More people joined us. We chatted like we were the best friends we had ever made. Then all of a sudden we saw them, there they stood like the Messiah. Bouncers. We had made it. We were saved. We cried with our arms around each other. Hmm...that's a bit much. 

We flashed our I.D's probably a little to over zealously. Then we entered our own promised land. 

Are fucking kidding me? Did we fucking just wait for 4 hours to get into this shit hole that smells of vomit and copulation? 

Fuck it. We looked at each other and headed straight for the bar. We bought drinks and chugged them. Is that...no it can't be a condom on the floor. Oh good it's just several beer cans mixed with nasty ass garbage. Let's just fucking dance. 

We hit the floor, Robert Downey Jr. and his newly found cousin joined us. We tore it up like no ones business. Then the night got even weirder. I noticed a guy who had originally tried to offer us floor tickets some country singer earlier on in the line. We had declined but I pretended like we were long lost friends. All of sudden he had whipped me onto the dance and proceeded to "two-step" with me. Which was actually more of a drunken combination of club dancing and spinning me around. It got old fast. 

When I returned to my group of friends it was as though all hell had broken lose. As I looked around I saw that RD Jr. had cornered my one friend and was drunkenly trying to tell her how great a couple they would make. Then he popped the question.

"What's your name again" Yikes.

It was at this point that my other friend and I had resigned ourselves to dancing our asses off and ditching the douchebags. Then I hear from behind me "You wanna dance?" at this point I had decided that "dancing" here meant "trying to stick my tongue down your throat under the guise of two-step". I said no. But god damn it he was persistent. He asked me about 25 ways to dance with him. His lines included this gem "I'm going to get down on my knees and beg you, have you ever had someone get down on their knees for you?" How could I say no? By walking away.

Then he offered RDJ's friend/cousin/brother $50 to dance with me. Am I a dancing prostitute? Well...okay $50 is pretty good. Especially considering I'm not working this summer. But a certain Flight of the Conchords song came to mind and I'm not really sure what words were exchanged between my new pimp and possible John but he was turned away. I suppose this makes me a high class prostitute.

Finally, I thought the hell was over. Then I felt someone grab my hand and whisper in my ear "Do you want to two-step?" Or at least that is what my semi-buzzed brain thought it heard. Was it wrong.

Suddenly I was out on the dance floor getting my ass spun around. Am I on my own version of the drunken Bachelorette? Why is he trying to dip me? What is this!? Turns out I actually have no idea how to two-step. Apparently there is this move where you spin and link your arms around each others back and something. I think I ended up hitting him in the face once.

Then he decided to lift me up. I'm like what the hell? I tried to look around and find the judges. This must be So You Think You Can Dance. That or Punk'd. Fine. I can play this game.

Now I am probably the most awkward person around men. In fact I have realized this more and more over the past couple weeks. I try to play it cool but then I think it comes off as desperate or crazy? So my defense mechanism in this situation is just to act as cool as possible. Which roughly translated means that I was mostly mumbling things under my breath and avoiding eye contact. Well, I finally convinced him to break off and find my friends. I don't think he got the hint that I didn't want to two-step anymore.

As I headed over to my friends, this night got even more out of control. All of a sudden I see my ex-boyfriend from gr.10. Now okay, ex-boyfriend is a bit of an exaggeration. We dated for a day in Grade 10 then dumped me because I was selfish. Then he was hugging me and telling me how great I looked. Umm did I not look good in high school? But I'll take the compliment. Then he went on to tell me about him and his girlfriends horrible break up. To which I didn't say much but "I'm so sorry". Then he asked me if I'd like to go out some time. What the hell just happened? Then just as quickly he was gone.

Okay... now we should all line up and I'll hand out the roses. Two-step guy then decided he hadn't quite finished impressing me with his skills. So here we went one more time (by the way my friends at this point had been through their own weird place). We started dancing again, but this time he decided to get fancy but the floor was deceivingly slippery. The next moment happened in flashes of weird and distorted images.

One minute he lifted me up and the next I was on that vomit, garbage, and various other bodily fluids covered floor. Now, I was at the point of drunk that I couldn't help but laugh. Then I looked up at the glare of the women who were dancing beside us.  It was that "Holy shit you're to drunk to be dancing, let alone being here, let alone competing with us for men." And two-step guy was stuck with his legs in a split type movement. made me laugh even harder. Finally I lifted my sorry ass off the floor, and then two step guy started apologizing with "I've never done that before!" Thanks for pretty much saying I'm a huge fat cow. Then, this is my personal favorite part of the night.

"Call Me Maybe" starts playing and then I look up and see him singing it at me. It was like some weird out of body experience. Was a guy actually singing this to me? Wait...he actually knows the words? At this point I decided I should find my friends again. As I walked towards them and saw that my Ex was still chatting to them. Oh shit. This can't end well.

I headed over to see what shit had happened while I was gone. Turns out he had regaled them with the break up tale as well. Then he asked me to dance. At this point I had quite enough dancing but hey, what the hell. So we headed to the dance floor. We then proceeded to talk about our one day relationship and all the mistakes we had made then. That one day in grade 10.

Seriously, where the hell am I?

Finally, I make my way back to my friends, one of them dancing with a guy and the other just enjoying the show. Then we got a talking to from a guy who lifted my friend up and carried her away just as two-step decided to show up and wrangle us both into dancing. Then he ended it with "we'll hang out".

Classic. Oh and also by this time RDJ had disappeared because my friend bluntly informed him that "if he wanted to get laid he was wasting his time."

Moral of the Story:
To be honest I think it got lost in the story along with my ability to write. All I can say is...

Fuck this post. I'm going to watch Lord of the Rings

Episode 13: How NOT To Handle A Broken Heart

What's up suckers?

It's summer time, the air is hot, the beers are cold and the desperation is thick in the air. You know what that means?

It's break up season. Yeah, you heard me. 'Tis the season for people to take one look at their significant other and decide "yeah, I should probably try my luck elsewhere". It's just the truth heartbreak kids. I'm not going to lie to you. But fear not, for I have a tale of hope that will surely help you get through this rough time by thinking "at least I never sunk that low."

Even I, the all mighty dating master gets kicked in the gonads by love once in a while and when I do it's often a gruesome and dragged out event. Much like the Justin Bieber movie. But I digress.

Now, people often handle break ups in one of two ways. Either, you spend a week at home dealing with the shitty pain, the tears, the exchanging of stuff, the adele cd and once that week is over you dust yourself off and move on. OR you choose the path that leads you into clubs 3 days later, drowning in boos, sleeping in your own filth, eating only ice cream and yoghurt covered raisins while crying randomly on public transit, in your house while watching Glee or Titanic and finally resorting to stalking your ex over Facebook just to Facebook chat him in hopes of salvaging the relationship and eventually ends in an intervention by your friends and a serious talking to by the police.

Now I'm not going to say either path is right. But I'm saying that I decided on the second one. Now this break-up happened several years ago now but I remember the details very foggily.

I had been dating this guy for over a year, we were going to get married, have babies, support him with my pay cheque that I would make after going to school and he would be free to live his dreams while I worked as a teacher most of the year and got an extra job in the summer. But I'm not bitter. Now I admit that we weren't the perfect match for each other. And by that I mean we had two completely differing views on pretty much every topic of importance to couples. But hey, we were going to work those out no problem. Not.

Now, I won't go into the gory details of how exactly we broke up but I can sum it up by saying that it involved me being drunk, him breaking it off on the phone and me having a complete crazy bitch yelling fest which included some real gems such as "I'LL KILL MYSELF IF YOU BREAK UP WITH ME!" and "YOU'RE A FUCKING ASSHOLE WHO DESERVES NOTHING!!!" And "I love you and want only the best for you, I would do anything to make it work." I could go on, but it wasn't my finest hour and I certainly regret confirming his beliefs in my physconess. It was a gruesome scene of tears and changed Facebook statuses. (by the way, I bet this paragraph made all the fellas want to jump at the chance to date me)

Anyways. I'm going to tell you what happened to me. I decided that I would sink myself into an episode of "wow this alcohol really makes things easier, and these yoghurt covered raisins are like eating my feelings". It wasn't pretty. Now I have to thank my friends for how wonderfully they reacted to these extremes. Instead of disowning me as a terrible person, they decided it would be good for me to get out. I think once they saw that I had begun knitting a "break-up scarf" while watching the old 21 Jump Street for 48 hours straight something needed to be done.

One friend, so sweet, invited me to go out with her, her boyfriend and one of his friends to a skeevy bar just to get me out, get drunk and forget the whole "I never loved you really" mess. I don't blame her for what happened next, I take full responsibility for my actions.

We decided to head out, I was sure nothing could go wrong. Nothing in my head said "hey, you're probably not ready for the emotional strain that clubs can place on one in your fragile state". We reached her boyfriends house and I tried to chat it up with the friend. Not very charming is all I can say. But we headed out anyways and I was hopeful that a good night of debauchery would erase my memory of this guy.

Not the case.

We started drinking and things were going...okay. I couldn't help but feel a little sad. We hit the dance floor to boogie away the blues. But this is where things get messy.

As my friend started to dance with her boyfriend, his friend took this as a sign that he and I should be dancing as well. Well I mean, for someone who could barely handle watching Johnny Depp fight teenage crime without weeping, it all became to much.

Right there, in front of him and all the dance floor, I broke down into sobs. I rushed away from the dance floor. I decided that crying in a corner made me look far less spazzy and proceeded to weep in a corner of the club. My friend did all she could to comfort me. But here I was, full on crying...in a club.

When I finally calmed down to only slightly teary, we tried to find the guys. Turns out the friend had been so offended by my display that he had promptly left and hid in his room and refused to speak to me.

And I wasn't even drunk. And it was only 12.

Moral of the Story:
Whatever you do, heartbreak and loud beats don't mix. Not even a little. Just stay at home and drown your sorrows with several cartons of Ben and Jerry's if I had a 1,000 flavours.