Fuck My Liver

Another night of work.  Another night of going out after work.  This evening’s activities had me at Karaoke night with a couple of my buddies.

Wasn’t drunk enough to sing at the time, but that wouldn’t have been a problem later on.  Just as the $2 well drinks special was coming to a close, I sensed a chick making a possible play at Sergio.  She was alright looking and it looked like she really wanted to talk to me.  The fact that this didn’t happen very often should have been my first tip off.

She leaned in and we began conversating.  She mentioned she was a teacher and she had just bought a house in walking distance.  I was thinking this chick was setting up for the kill.  Thoughts of going back to her empty place were running through my head.  Another 5 minutes of conversation and she breaks out the line “And that’s why I don’t date guys anymore!”

What?  Hoping that meant she wasn’t into relationships, I asked to be sure.  She responded by saying that she was not attracted to guys anymore and she got her own place to be with her girlfriend(s) in private.  What a waste of time.  But, she wasn’t finished mindfucking me just yet.

“So, What’s your story?” she asked.  Umm, I bar tend and design web pages.

“No, what’s your deal?”  Ahh, I’m single and like to go out.

She proceeded to ask me about the guys I’ve dated and totally implied the fact she thought I was a homo.  She wanted to hear about how I came out to my parents?  WTF.  The bitch wouldn’t leave me alone the rest of the time I was there, apologizing non stop.

I went from thinking she wanted me — to finding out she was a lesbo — to her accusing me of being a homo.  Quite a turn of events.

Enough of that place.  Bounced with a friend to pick up his girlfriend who was with her friend.  Went further down the street to a college bar that featured jello wrestling.  Not what you see in the movies, but what can you really expect on a Tuesday night.  My friend apologized for his girlfriend’s friend not being the best looking girl in the world.  Last time I checked, Sergio didn’t have standards.

Nothing wrong with busting out Irish car bombs on a Tuesday evening.

Beer was flowing and the dance moves were itching to make their presence felt.  They would have to wait as the bar was closing down.  Since my friend lived in the same apartment complex, he offered to take me back.  I guess the chick was staying on his couch.

Thoughts of After Party grandure were consuming my brain.  Five minutes from home, the chick told my friend to pull over because she needed to yack.  Are you fucking kidding me?  I asked him to just drop me off at my place.  Tonight was not my night.  Lucky for me there was a beer left in the fridge.  Fuck My Liver.

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