what we have here is a fun little setup: drinks downstairs; smoking lounge upstairs. perfect party scenerio now that futbol has moved into the duplex.last night we celebrated jcrew's 26th birthday -- round one -- with champaign and drinking games. the birthday girl seemed determined to not have a good time. she stared off into space and spent time using a power drill to create holes in stryophome between turns of ``circle of death'' a card game that dictates how much a person drinks.
we decided to go to the twins bar -- a rough fourth street hole that specializes in burnt drinks, cleavage tattoos and chlymedia. i was craving the baby-aspirin flavor of a manderine seven, and instead got a glass of orange-flavored gasoline. on the rocks. on the other hand, the twins bar has ms. pacman and for that i'd ingest a bit of gasoline and tempt the venerial disease gods.
jcrew was whomping us in a game of darts when her focus shifted from pleasantly buzzed to positively shitfaced. she stood at the line in front of the dartboard screaming: ``i'm kicking your asses and i'm shitfaced!'' then whipped the pointy death darts at the board. after my roommate won, she softened: wandering around in circles trying to kiss all of us. she came in for a lip landing and i veered and gave her the cheek. she fell for it six to ten times.sensing the amount of girl-love coursing through the crew's veins, i gently suggested that we should go to fuzzy's -- a skanky strip club on first street.``eff yeah!'' she said. ``i totally want big boobs in my face.''
we got to the strip club and it was pretty dead. i don't remember even seeing a dancer, until i realized jcrew had disappeared. she does this. a drunk wander. she'll be gone for fifteen minutes and come back with three new friends -- trying to carry the free drinks she has earned with her girlish squeal. last night she waved from a front-row seat next to the stage. dollar bills in hand.
``come sit by me!'' she said.
i went and sat by the stage and set a dollar in front of me.``you can just have the dollar,'' i told the bcups that were swinging in front of me like a national geographic special. the next thing i knew, the girl had grabbed me behind the neck and pressed her sweaty chest into my face -- shaking and jiggling. it is the first time in my lifesomeone's cleavage sweat has been wiped on my forehead.
i liked my life better before this happened.
but she wasn't done. she cozied up to my neck like i we were fogging up the windows in the backseat of a wood-panel station wagon. and then she bit me before riding her own sweat trail back to the stage.``i think she gave me a hickey,'' i told jcrew, rubbing my neck. i didn't really want a hickey. i didn't want her to wring out her pores on my face either. i just gave her a dollar. not ten.
my roommate bought jcrew a lapdance, and she disappeared with a half-naked woman who was playing the role of half-naked librarian. jcrew was gone for awhile. when she came out from behind the VIP area she had a ghostly expression that totally nullfied her naturally tan complexion.
she streaked past our table and directly into the ladies room. i went in after her to make sure she didn't hit her head when she passed out. i found her wretching and cursing. she came out of the stall, pointed at her left breast and said ``i just threw up on my boob.''
the next day, i wrapped myself in a blanket and went out into the living room to sit with her and talk about her birthday night. she stood up suddenly and headed to my bathroom.``i have to go make my ass baby,'' she said. then stopped. she looked at the floor, weighing the contents of her intestines. ``or it might just be more of a drizzle.'' oh we laughed.
