I had started a new post yesterday with the intention of having it finished and posted by the time I went to bed last night. It had humor! It had wit! There was even some philosophic crap in there (you know, for balance).
Unfortunately, I had to delete it and start over because sometimes in life you're sitting at home on a Saturday night like a loser minding your own business and blogging and then an hour later you're sandwiched in a booth at a strip club between your crazy friends and a dude named Wayne who has perpetually sweaty hands and a bit of a lisp.
And you're not entirely sure how you got there in one piece or how you'll get home in less than seven.
It occurred to me as Wayne was leaning in and blabbing on and on about his favorite flavor of beer and the newly expanded stadium at U of M that my life has taken like a thousand fucked up turns in less than a month's time. I'm sure he thought I was hanging on his every word since I probably had a thoughtful look on my face as my brain was going a million miles a minute about so many things. It was sensory overload, especially with the strippers and glitter and techno music and Lucite heeled shoes.
My inner monologue went something like this (to the best of my knowledge- I had consumed quite a few lemon drop shots to help myself accept the fact that I was basically stranded at a strip club and sitting next to a man who may or may not want to kill me and make a coat out of my skin). It was literally a clusterfuck of thoughts:
Oh, God... I'm never going to see my dog again. Shut up. Yes you will. You'll walk if you have to. Walk? Oh, why did I wear "fuck me" shoes to a strip club?!?!?
Wayne smells a little strange- sort of a mixture of Old Spice and desperation. Haha, remember that time Dad tried to re-gift an Old Spice gift set you gave him to your ex for Christmas?
How is she contorting her body around the pole like that? It's as if she and the pole are one! Wait, I have to stop staring or I'm going to have to tip her...
Will I be able to taste a roofie in a shot???
I'm going to die tonight. Fuck, I forgot my lipstick. If someone is going to find my dead body on Telegraph Road, I should have some goddamn lipstick on... I already died five times, I think.
OH MY GOD THOSE GIRLS ARE DOING THAT TO EACH OTHER ON THE STAGE?!!? I have to go pray...
...is he still talking about the stupid Guiness he's drinking?! Guiness tastes like shit, dude. Accept it.
I really should get my nails done again, they're looking awful.
You're never going to have children, you know this, right? You will die an old maid with 100 cats if you make it out of this alive tonight. God, had I known this was the last night of my life I would've totally slept with Button Boy* this morning... he smells nice, not like Old Spice and desperation- more like classy cologne and fabric softener and zest for life... I should totally drunk text him right now and tell him. No. Yes. No! YES!
... I have to pee... where's my purse?... Aw, hell, it's under the table- nothing good can happen to someone who crawls under a table at a strip club.
I want my Mommy.
I wish I was skinny like these girls.
You do understand you are at a strip club right now, right? Also, why are the beers $6?
And so it went, till I got the brilliant idea to see if a good friend might be in the area and interested in coming to my rescue. Luckily for me, my friend Alysia and what was left of my innocence, he was willing to come get us.
So that's my post. Wait. We need some philosophy... eh, screw it for today. My body is still 45% alcohol right now.
Being a single girl isn't easy.
*Names have been changed or shortened to protect the innocent. Or at least prevent them from being so pissed off they won't want to drink irresponsible amounts of alcohol with me and kiss anymore.
o.O
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