Looking For Fun

I haven't been on the bar scene in ages.  After you get pregnant you tend to stay away from them {unless you're really screwed in the head}.  Then you birth that calf and you don't feel like going anywhere but to sleep!

Well, over the past weekend we decided to bust out and go to a bar or two. I was the DD because well...because I'm a grown up.

I can tell you I have always had major respect for the designated driver.  This person gives up having their hair down so that they can hold yours when you think you are 22 again and do that extra shot or twelve.



The DD is a saint.  They can watch people make total asses of themselves and then put their head down and keep on Twittering.

The DD is a cool ass person who deserves a free {good} meal and possibly a gift card to your favorite store for soberly putting up with the shenanigans of others.

I seriously do not mind being a DD.  I love to people watch. I love to not get sick.  I love to be in control of my evening. I love to listen in on drunken conversations.



I did learn that I hate being involved in drunken conversations.



Episode One:  The drunken dumb ass.

So I get stuck at a table with a middle aged woman who mentally may be 12.  She lives five minutes from the place I reside in.  Those five minutes are just over the county line.  This rocket scientist of a person decided it was her job to inform me every sixty seconds that she hated where I lived.

Ok good.  I do sometimes too.

However, after the 998th time she told me I had to stop her and say -

"K, let me guess!  You hate Davie County!!!!"

She wasn't amused.  I don't know if she wasn't amused that I had been actually hearing her yammering or if she was amused I could comprehend her words.

I asked her if she was still in the occupation I knew she had been involved in and she said no she worked with home health now.  I said "Oh, you wipe asses."

She excused herself.

Only to return later.



I then learned she never eats.  Like ever.  Oh wait she did have a bowl of opium for breakfast.  Not kidding she said she had a bowl of opium for real.  And she eats her opium with brown sugar.

Had I been drinking I would have torn her to shreds.  Glad I was the DD.

Episode two:

We go to this hell-hole-hole-in-the-wall that had a band.  The band was, obviously, the retirement home's residents that get to go out once a week.  Not kidding.  These guys were old as God.

They had a front boy who may be graduating middle school this year.  I'm guessing a grandson of one of the disciples.

Long story short:  the band blew chunks.

The bar did too.

So as we're hanging out this guy comes over and he has an obvious foreign accent.  We're talking possibly English or Australian just somewhere not here or there or anywhere USA.

He tells us he's an African Gypsy Jew.



Then he goes into vague detail:

Accent (S. Africa)
Gypsy (perhaps a traveler, not sure)
Jew (self explanatory).

He then had a blue million phone calls roll in.

However, he did share he was a terrorist in S. Africa during Apartheid and had to leave.

What the hell.

I'm sure his life was more like he worked as a bus boy at a fish n chips hell hole and busted out to America to be a rock n roller but too little too late the 80's coked his world up and he got stuck being a janitor at the mall.

Whatever dude, I'm sober and you're full of shit.



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Our night ended early.  What a dead scene it was.  What's the name of your favorite place to hang out?  Why do you like it?

Share it!