June - Part 6 (Saturday Night Fever)

Since my last update, June and I have moved back to Tulsa for a short time. Our time in the keys was glorious, but it’s time to try somewhere else.

June is cleaning houses and bartending, so if you have a dirty house...hint, hint...

I’m working the door at Caz’s and mowing yards, so if you need your yard mowed...hint,hint...

Well, Saturday I decided I wanted to hit What-A-Burger on my way to work at Caz’s. June was going to ride along so she could meet up with the Elle and Jessica Doppelgänger’s who were in town for Pride.

We start our turn into What-A-Burger and notice a couple having a domestic dispute smack dab in the middle of the parking lot. As we get closer we realize they are both hearing impaired, which brings the realization that I can’t honk at them to move because they can’t hear it. The windows are down as we creep past and what started as just giggling at their furious hand gesturing turns into full on belly roll laughing as we hear them vocalizing the hand gestures as well.

Now, June and I are completely aware that laughing at disabled people pretty much guarantees us a spot in Hell, but Karma quickly slapped us in the face. I was laughing so hard that I ended up tapping the car in front of us and a Greek God gets out of the car with a very unamused look on his face. This situation is diffused quickly and it’s off to work.

Once downtown, the girls meet up and I commence with counting heads and checking ID’s. The night was going along quite well. Hovering right around max capacity and nobody getting to wild and crazy.

That changed right before midnight when a Lesbian couple try’s to leave with a beer. I stop them and politely ask them to finish it off. The one with the beer gets to chugging and finished it off. As I reach for the empty bottle and the other one snatches it and bolts. Well, I just chuckle at this because she just ran off with a bottle of spit and got them both banned. No re-entry.

About 45 minutes later I see them stumble down the sidewalk and stop outside the bar. A couple of young black men walk in the door and as I’m checking their ID’s the one who snatched the beer bottle opens the door. I stop her immediately and tell her she can’t come in.

This does not make her happy. She instantly clinched her jaw and asks why. I explain why with a smile on my face. She calls me a “fucking racist” loud enough that the two young men I just let in can hear, so they stop and start paying attention to the show at the door. The other 8 people in their group are still sitting at the two tables closest to the door and they are interested now as well.

Remember that Greek God I mentioned earlier? Remember that Pride is going on downtown?

The Greek God from earlier is now a Greek Goddess and is looming over me as I try and talk the woman back out of the door.

Greek God/Goddess is 6’4” and weighs 230 lbs, I know this because I checked their ID. I also know that the little Hispanic Lesbian who is 1.2 seconds away from taking a swing at me is one inch taller than a Little Person or Midget or Dwarf (I don’t know the politically correct term).

This situation is a complete and total loss for me regardless of the outcome.

It is also drawing a crowd as more people inside are watching the show.

Just as I think I’m about to get control of things, the Greek God/Goddess recognizes me from earlier at What-A-Burger and calls me out for laughing at disabled people. This gives traction to the racist comment. One inch taller than a Little Person/Midget/Dwarf/Pygmy Hispanic Lesbian takes her swing.

What happened after that is a bit of blur, but those scenes in movies where the whole bar starts throwing punches and chairs and bottles, apparently that happened.

In the hands of someone who knows how to use them, a feather boa and stilettos are deadly weapons. I have the marks to prove it.

It is Thursday and I’m just now getting out of bed on my own.

On a high note, I didn’t go to jail for striking a woman, striking a Lesbian, striking a person of color, striking a Transgender person, striking a Little Person/Midget/Dwarf or striking a person of the international press corps. POUNDSIGN: WINNING!!

Until next time, my friends.

June - Part 5

Many of you have been asking about an update on June and I. Did we make it to The Keys and all that. Well, we did, but it didn't go as planned.

What was supposed to be a savage tear across the country like some mutant love child of Rubber Ducky and The Bandit with help from the Elle and Jessica Doppelgänger's turned into a 10 day journey thru 7 states with 3 nights spent in two different jails. I wouldn't call that smooth.

Anyway, we did eventually get to Key West. Which was chosen because I lived here back in 2000 - 01 and have a lingering bit of knowledge about the place. Amazingly, I also still know some people here.

Our first few days were spent trying to find jobs and a place to live.

In another strange twist of fate, we ended up renting the very apartment I was living in when I left Key West. My cousin, Justin, even lived with me for a short time.

I also got a job at Hogs Breath, which is where I worked way back in the day. June got a job there as well. Yesterday was the first day at work for both of us.

The couple of days we had to just sit on the beach we're the most amusing. When you're on a beach with three extremely beautiful tattooed women with a bottle of rum and a pit bull that is as handsome and well behaved as Burn, people notice.

Burn is quite the beach nut, it turns out.

I hope this satisfied your curiosity because it might be a minute before there is another update.

Until then, drive fast and be reckless, but don't get dead.

Tuesday’s Are For Left Turns

Waking up in handcuffs is a good thing to some people. Waking up in handcuffs and feeling a little discomfort is even better. Waking up handcuffed to a hospital bed in a hospital in excruciating pain is not a good thing.

Roger and I should not be left unattended when there is alcohol around.

The wifey was away on business and we figured we would do a typical Tuesday night with "Top Gear", "The Grand Tour", shots of Sweet Tea Vodka and Chicken Wings. The reason I call this "typical" is because she goes out of town almost every Tuesday. Everything was going well until Jazmine texted and asked what we were doing. We hadn't seen her in awhile and she wanted us to meet her at a bar for some drinks. Why the hell not?

So, we jump in the Jeep and head to the bar. I don't remember the name of the bar and it's not important.

What is important is that this was the left turn of the night.

While at the nameless bar, we are catching up and having a good time. Except that Roger kept cutting me off and interrupting me when I would be trying to tell Jazmine anything. This started to irritate me. He was sitting in his chair with one leg up against the bar and leaning back, so when I had finally had enough, I punched him in the balls. He falls backwards and makes a big scene. I’m laughing my ass off until he comes up from the floor in a lunge and knocks me backwards in my chair.

At this point the bartender had the bouncers throw us out, which hurt just a little bit. I get up and start walking away, Roger drives off and Jazmine is left standing in the parking lot looking rather confused.

This whole little circle jerk sobered me up a little and before I realized it I had walked into a strip club.

I've mentioned earlier about an encounter with a dancer at Crawpappy's that went wrong. Well, she has found a new job and she was working. She was also very happy to see me.

After a little catching up chit chat we moved to the VIP Room, which I could not afford in any way. She is hammering down Fishbowl drinks just as fast as I can hammer down glasses of Rhum. I have no idea how much those cost, but they aren't cheap. At some point I started doing Coke. The interesting thing about that is it was in her vagina.

Now that sounds odd, but there isn't a better place to hide it when you're wearing nothing more than a thong and boobie tassels. The logistics of this are inconceivable to most. How this was pulled off was because of her ability to do a handstand of sorts in my lap while gyrating to whatever song was playing.

Ladies, pay attention because this little trick could save whatever relationship you are in. You put your shoulders on his thighs just past his knees with your head between his calves and depending on which way you're facing, you're either giving him Pink Eye or his nose is in your vagina.

She was in the second choice position and that's why I was able to do Coke out of her vagina. You have to be impressed with her dexterity. Imagine being upside down and opening a Mini Zip bag in your vagina, which is upside down the majority of the time, and putting it in a position where someone could put a tooter in that little bag and snort Coke out of it while you're moving around to some song by Chris Brown. She has skills.

Closing time finally arrives and I have written a check that my ass can't cash in 12 lifetimes. The dancer offers to give me a ride home with a stop at the ATM. This does not go well.

Apparently after several attempts to withdrawal monies owed, she called for backup and I did not go quietly into the good night. I put up a drunken, Coked out fight to the death at a North Side QT and cops were called. The cops arrived and I was still in Beast mode, probably because of the Coke.

That's how I woke up handcuffed to a hospital bed in excruciating pain. I hope your Tuesday night was better than mine, but I don't know how you can beat doing Coke out of a strippers vagina and waking up handcuffed to a hospital bed in hospital.