A 5 Billion Pound Homeless Person's Sleeping Bag Soaked In 10 Jillion Gallons of Gelatinous Pee.
Last night I was invited to see my good friend and comedic GENIUS Will Franken perform his one man show called Good Luck With It. Normally I would take a girl to see something like this but I have a dude friend who I'm gonna be calling Pee Blanket (you'll find out why a little later) that said he'd been wanting to check it out -- and it was early, there was plenty of time later for girls and it's not always good to get saddled with one girl early in the night, I mean, what if I change my mind? Besides, my first choice couldn't go.
Anyway, so despite a hilarious show on the part of Will Franken, Pee Blanket fucking FALLS ASLEEP during the show. The show is a billion miles from being sleepable. The crowd loves it. Everyone is laughing. It's a fucking great fucking show. The laughs don't stop for more than 30 seconds, nevertheless there's Pee Blanket snoring up all my energy like a black hole in the next seat.
I'm an understanding dude -- people get tired -- we all do, but when you're tired STAY THE FUCK HOME!! It's like hugging someone and saying "Man -- I got this majorly contagious disease."
Show ends -- it's only 10:15, lots of things going on a Saturday, especially this Saturday.
"Yawwwwwnnn what else is going on tonight -- yawwwwnnnnnn"
"Well, a whole bunch of stuff. We already did A -- but there's B, C and D, I'll probably end up at C or maybe even D E or F...
"Yaaawwwwwwnnn --- so who's gonna be at B and C?"
"The same people that are always at my suggestions, notably lots of girls"
"Yaaawwwwwwwn, yeah I don't know, I think I'm gonna get a video, you know, as a back up plan ----- yaaawwwwwwn..."
I think "Back up plan? -- wtf?"
At this point Pee Blanket has broken every single law of Saturday evening party courtesy and I am 100% annoyed --- have you ever heard the term "wet blanket"? Well that doesn't even begin to describe Pee Blanket's attitude last night .... That's where he got his name and where I got the title of this post.
"Yeah, I think you oughtta just go home and sleep. You're totally draining my energy... "
"Yaaaawwwwwwnnnnn yeah well, call me if something happens"
Yeah, that'll happen. At this point I want to punch Pee Blanket in the face because I already provided A and then listed B, C, and D and a polite person just never says "Call me if fun stuff happens" when you just listed a bunch of fun stuff and it's a glaring fucking FACT that FUN is wherever I happen to be. (You can replace the word FUN with BEAUTIFUL GIRLS if you like.)
So I ditch (or am ditched by) Pee Blanket and go B which is Jillian Iva's (Von Iva) birthday party at a nice house where there are wonderful guests, a bath tub of beer and tons of awesome mexican food. My brief ten minute stomach ache (probably caused by Pee Blanket's fucking yawning), I chat with lovely ladies and carry on quite awesomely although I eat so much food that it hampers my buzz.
I quickly hit C, hug a few bitches, look at my watch -- sneak off and go to D.
At D a gigantic black dude attempts to frisk me at the door, he is dressed like a ghetto gangster with super baggy clothes, gold fronts and some Michael Jordan bullshit and I'm thinking "WHO'S FRISKING WHO HERE!!??" And so I'm irritated out of my my nutts especially because --- look --- just FUCKING FRISK THE RIGHT PEOPLE HOLMES! Got that dawg? Don't frisk The Special Guest, a.k.a. ME, who was invited by The Promoter of D because The Promoter of D wants Special Guest a.k.a ME to be a part of D next time he throws another D. I walk right in and Gigantic Negro Gangster Frisker pulls me back and says;
"10 dollars dawg."
"I'm on the list sir."
"List ended at 10" -- or some other bullshit -- ebonics is haaaaarrrd.
At this point I roll my eyes click my heels and say;
I will never be part of D. No fucking way. FUCK YEAH I'M A PRIMA DONNA! BITCH!
So I saunter on down the street to E. On the way I see a squirrelly, mustachioed, fur coat wearin' fashion friend who, like me, came from D and is on his way to E and I recount the awesomely fresh anecdote of the complete reversal of societal logic wherein a negro gangster from the ghetto frisks an upstanding white gentleman of good report. To this the fashion dude says;
"Careful now! Don't be racist"
And I say,
"You mean don't be hilarious and exactly dead on RIGHT?"
Squirrelly mustachioed fashion dude speeds up to create a murder buffer between us. Which doesn't really bother me because we are in the butthole of the country amongst many cracked out negros. I can't really blame the little fella. He looks so cute in his high heels. It'd be hard to run in them things.
I get to E and guess who is standing on the street out in front. -- NOPE -- WRONG -- Whatever you guessed is wrong so stop guessing and let me tell you. It's Jell-o Pee Blanket from earlier. This only annoys the fuck out of me because he should be home sleeping. He is hanging out with 2 other dude friends trying not to yawn.
"MMMEEEERRRRRKLEEEYYYYY!!!" They yell and I pretend not to hear because I am talking to a pretty hipster girl and also the yell sounds to me exactly the same as if he would have yelled"
"ACTUALLY I JUST DIDN'T WANT TO GO TO B!!!!"
So there I am, buzz wearing off -- annoyed as fuck and Pee Blanket walks up and says:
"So what did you end up doing?"
"Well, I went to Jillian's birthday party and then to C.... and then..."
"JILLIAN'S BIRTHDAY PARTY??? I WISH I WOULD HAVE KNOWN ABOUT THAT!!"
I was on the verge of saying "Well I wonder why you didn't get invited and I did? Perhaps it has something to do with --- oh -- I don't know yaaaaawwwwwwnnnnnn, being really selective and bum outy, and better than everything and insensitive to Saturday Night Good Times protocol" but instead I just said "
At this point I was REALLY annoyed so I just avoided him completely and stood around being hilariously racist with all the girls because girls absolutely love racist shit. All the pretty girls wanted me to take their picture. One sexy asian girl I don't even know actually ASKS me or really TELLS me to take her picture, as if it's my job, to which I reply:
"I don't take requests and I certainly don't take orders."
My mood slipped down the gutter from there. My buzz was soaked up in the carne asada. I declined the invitations to hipster cocaine afterparties and instead graciously accepted a ride home from a Spiritualized, Hip Hoppy, Mop Toppy, Just Bought a Beautiful 73 Mercedes That's Solid as a Rock Poppy type friend. On the way home he picks up his bubbly girlfriend and they invite me out to E for more drinks.
"E? What a Hot Dog Convention! That place is all hot dogs -- no buns" I say as I begin epitomizing the rule of "Point One Finger, There are Three Pointing Right Back" as I myself morph into the title of this post.
"You know merkley, girlfriend here says that out of all my friends you and xxxx are her favorites."
"XXXX? -- You KNOW I'm the favorite! Just admit it."
"It's true she said -- but I'm always afraid that I freak you out."
"You talk way too much but you don't freak me out."
"Good cuz I thought I freaked you out."
"Nooooowah -- all I hear is "blah blah blah blah" -- I just wait til the blabbing stops and then say something hilarious."
"That's why you're the favorite."
"Don't I fucking know it?"
Oh well, at least when I turn into A 5 Billion Pound Homeless Person's Sleeping Bag Soaked In 10 Jillion Gallons of Gelatinous Pee, It's at the END of the evening when one is supposed to be a A 5 Billion Pound Homeless Person's Sleeping Bag Soaked In 10 Jillion Gallons of Gelatinous Pee instead of at the beginning of the evening when one is supposed to be exactly like Richard Simmons.
That's all for now!
Don't get caught thinking up the term "Gelatinous Pee" because it only makes you think of rubberized poop too!
Your Favorite Bearded Princess,