it's been awhile since i've blogged here. maybe grad school is curtailing my sense of humour as well as my time. BUT! i've recently come into some free time. this has lately translated into going to a great many bars. this in turn has reminded me why i live inside the bubble of academia, lest i should doubt my life choices. townies are gross.
anyway, my friend laurie and i decided last thursday to go to ceilidh house. i'd already been to the campus bar at two different 'pub night' events, but an evening just isn't complete without some laurie-time. i got to the bar first, and, it being nearly midnight, the place was full of exuberant, inebriated folk singing along to some rough pseudo-irish tunes. but hey, i can get down to 'mary mac' with the best of 'em, so i laid in to wait for my 'date'. laurie got there shortly after, we had some chatting, all was well...
until...DA DA DUUUUUUUH! (that was supposed to be suspenseful music, by the way)
random icky bar guy #1 begins his appoach. cue the displeased grumbling on our part. this guy (who looks uber-rough and about 40) stumbles over to our table, then proceeds to introduce himself and stay awhile. we just stare at blankly. he says he's looking for advice about 'boy-girl problems'. we say we can't help him out...we're lesbians. that's great, he says, he's got a girlfriend, and we look like helpful ladies. so, he spends the next hour spinning yarns about his kid (complete with visuals), his girlfriend (who he's clearly looking to cheat on, excuse the dangling preposition), and his incident with some ice and pins in his hand (he showed us the scars, woohoo!). the thing is though, his stories start to repeat, and this time they're different. allow me an example:
icky bar guy #1: so, you gals remind me of m' sister.
us: oh yeah, that's nice. was she a lesbian too?
(a little later)
icky bar guy #1: so yeah, it's just me and my brother.
us: we thought we reminded you of your sister.
icky bar guy #1: haha, nope, i don't have a sister.
us: why did you say we reminded you of her then?
icky bar guy #1: see, a guy can't show his hand too early. you gotta keep a few back!
did that make any sense to you? 'cause it certainly didn't to us. then he starts going on about how he's giving us the wrong idea about straight men - he wants us to know that guys are okay. in fact, he's a 'very liberal heterosexual man' and then he says he's only sort of hetero. so laurie says, does that mean you're kind of gay? oh no, he says, we're not understanding him. he's just very liberal. o...kay.
now, i'd also like to point out, this whole time we've been maintaining that we're lesbians, on a date, and we live together. this did not stop our icky bar guy #1 from repeatedly fondling my leg, arm, hand...and coat. ewwww. apparently he was very understanding of our lesbianism, being that he's such a liberal heterosexual man. yeah.
the guy falls off his chair a couple times, then spies a pretty waitress. he decides she's making eyes at him, the little tease, and goes outside after her (exunt icky bar guy #1). before the door had even settled in the jamb, another nasty dude sidles up to our table (enter icky bar guy #2). this guy (who is so drunk he can't look at either one of us in the face) tells us he and his friend are having the worst day ever. he lost his girlfriend, his friend lost his job. what a sad tale. they'd like some help - what do we suggest they do?
me: get drunk. drinking kills the pain.
icky bar guy #2: no, we're already drunk.
me: strippers. strippers make guys happy.
icky bar guy #2: no, we're more out-doorsy type guys.
me: well, you're gonna have to walk to get to the strippers.
see, then he leaves, and we're thinking, hooray! but no. he just goes to fetch his idiot friend (enter icky bar guy #3). icky bar guy #3 puts on a fake irish accent and tells us how he just got off the boat, or plane, or whatever today.
laurie: so, i thought you lost your job today?
icky bar guy #3: oh, yeah...my job in ireland.
laurie: just today?
icky bar guy #3: yeah, today. then i flew here.
please make it stop. actually, don't, i haven't laughed this hard in a year. we finally manage to get away from these fellows, make a dash for the door, but wait! icky bar guy #2 follows us out. he wants to give us his number. problem is, he's too drunk to write it down. then he can't decide to whom he should actually give it. he gets freaked out and dashes back inside.
we walk down the block, and lo, we are called again! that's right, icky bar guy #1 is back. he sings us a spanish ditty, then begs us to return next week, since we're such cool gals. uh-huh. we continue down the street. we're just about to get away again, when icky bar guy #2 comes running down the street. he asks if we have cell phones, 'cause he can put his number in our cell phones! we say no, and he gets very forlorn. lips in a pout, head to the ground, toeing the pavement he says:
"well, at least i tried."
that you did, sir. it just might have worked a little better had your fly not been open, your bits and pieces on display for the world to see. i don't think we'll be back on thursday again.
