Posts Tagged: teddy bear

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24
Nov 09

one of these things is not like the other…

rainbowdrink

remember that skanky biker bar that i told you about over the summer, that my really cute pal likes to drag me to? well, she dragged me there again this past weekend. see, she just got sprung from the joint (her divorce became final last thursday & i am not the least bit jealous…), so we went out to celebrate and i made the mistake of telling her 2 things: 1. that i would drive and 2. that i would take her anywhere she wanted to go. of course we ended up at mcskanker’s bar. we haven’t been there since i last drunkenly flirted with that fat biker (see visual at bottom of teddy bear post) and it seems things have changed a bit…

when we first walked in, the new bouncer was said fat biker. so yah, that was a tad awkward. in fact, none of the usual bouncers were there (including the one she used to drag me to visit), but it still looked to be the usual sub-par crowd of deadbeats & axe murderers. we sidled up to the bar and then trolled for the one good looking dude there. see, we have this standing contest to amuse ourselves which involves seeing who can find the only attractive man (read: has all of his teeth) in the bar we might even consider talking to first. it’s silly, but passes the time until we are drunk enough to pounce on the empty dance floor and shake our little white boo-tays without inhibition. upon scanning the crowd for our contest, it appeared that the patronage of said establishment had, umm,  changed. we saw lots of what we thought were men with their girlfriends, but they weren’t men. and, the actual men there seemed a wee bit more interested in each other rather than us. we both had this realization at the exact same time and said, “umm. i think this place turned into a gay bar, not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

at this point, when faced with this situation,  it is then customary for women to discuss the following:

  1. any “experimenting” we may have done in college.
  2. if we would ever consider such a thing now.
  3. if we ever would kiss each other.

i never have taken a trip on that particular wild side and i don’t think i ever will, but nonetheless here are my criteria if i were ever to consider it:

  1. i would have to be all kinds of plastered.
  2. no below the waist action for either participant.
  3. she would have to be supermodel hot, and, since, i am not a supermodel, i am not sure how i would bag a woman of that caliber anyway, so it really is a moot point.

turns out it’s very disconcerting being the lone heteros in a gay bar until the BAC is sufficiently raised. i wondered if  this is how gay people feel all the time out in the straight world: completely out of place & needing a stiff drink. at first, we hoped vehemently that no one would hit on us at the bar and then, when they didn’t, we wondered why isn’t anyone hitting on us at the bar? is no one into lipstick lesbians anymore (because clearly that is the kind i would be)? and then we wondered, hey since those guys over there are really awesome dancers, would they mind if we cut in & danced with them?

it probably goes without saying that the big dance hits of the evening were, “crazy bitch” and “i kissed a girl.”  these songs were met with great cheers from the crowd and jovial shoulder bumping. part of the celebration that night was a big lesbian birthday party which we were fine with until it was apparent she did not bring enough cake for everyone. and that my friends, is where my liberality draws the line: dessert discrimination. we also saw a bunch of swingers doing their thing on the dance floor which was interesting. i have never witnessed the casual partner swap lifestyle in person & it was certainly intriguing. i am sure if i could have gotten another couple to overlook The Troll that was my husband, swinging may have saved my doomed marriage or at least my dead sex life, which honestly, i just may have settled for…

so all in all it was fun being out with the newly freed slave girl, as it always is, it was an enlightening experience, an unexpectedly refreshing change of pace, and most importantly, an amusing blog post. next week we’re hitting the bar from animal house…

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5
Jul 09

teddy bears

among thoughts of gratitude about my blessed american freedoms this forth of july weekend, i had thoughts about the whole mating dance we women are free to do while out on the town during such weekends.
obviously the first issue about being on the prowl is assessing the attractiveness of the potential prey. attraction makes the world go round as superficial as it is. most women like to get a group consensus that the stalkee is worth the time & effort involved in the intricate stalking ritual. however, the more fundamental issue at hand is having “similar taste” in said mark. so you can not only get the assurance of the group you are not hunting down a gnome, but also clearly mark your territory. most times this works flawlessly, as your best girl will point out important shortcomings you hadn’t noticed like hairy man toes glaring out of flip flops or the dude’s girlfriend standing next to him giving you the death eye just as you were going in for the kill (and, btw, in the latter situation, the lionesses in my posse all concur, “hey, honey, all yours,” because we ain’t gonna scrap over any potential sperm donors).
speaking of physical attraction, i have a pal whom i adore but our “type” differs significantly. at first this seemed like a good thing because we would never be interested in the same man. but, it turns out, when i am with her, it is impossible to get a proper read on a contestant. i fancy myself a connoisseur of a higher level of quarry, while i consider her ideals to lean toward the bottom rung of candidates. she is the beautiful girl who has no idea she is so pretty. she digs “teddy bears” which generally translates to hairy fat dudes. while in some circles this is a perfectly legitimate fetish, i keep telling her she’s a chubby chaser & needs to elevate her game. but instead of taking my gentle advice, she keeps draggin’ me into her white trash pit of despair – unemployed, married, bearded, completely tattooed, fat, hard core, leather wearin’ motorcyclists – while i struggle to introduce her to dudes with all of their teeth. don’t get me wrong: it thrills my ego to no end to go to the bar located in what i consider to be the appalachians of jersey and be the prettiest chicks there with all of their chromosomes. of course these guys love her because they will never ever get another girl of her caliber. EVER. they struck that night’s chick lottery. now it would be fine if she kept her habit to herself, but she keeps dragging me into it. i agree to accompany her only because she lures me with the promise of driving & buying my drinks so i can drink the place interesting & try to hit on the best looking dude in the bar (and best looking is absolutely relative to your locale). furthermore, these dudes are so scary that beer goggles don’t even kick in. once again, this weekend, she dragged me to her den of decay and there was NOT ONE dude that i could even drink cute, but thanks to my old pal vodka i did get trashed enough to call over two trolls, who from a distance looked slightly more like hobbits. upon seeing them close up i was like “no way” & changed my mind. this poor dude turns to her & whimpers, “she called me over.” to which she could only shake her head & reply, “i know,” while patting him on the back. perhaps, she will now think twice before taking me there again if she has to clean up my trail of destruction or next time i just might barf in her car.
this reminded me of another incident over the weekend in which two of the women left unattended by the rest of us for 5 minutes, were approached by two unsavory characters. these geezers sit down next to them and launch into a very long winded, boring, whiny story. now, those of us that have been out there for a while no longer feel the need to be “nice” because quite frankly, we don’t feel like it anymore. so, my girls, turned to each other, and with a nod, left these loser romeos in mid-sentence which caused one of the aforementioned manatees to say to the other, “snotty bitches” loudly enough for one of said bitches to hear. she tapped him on the shoulder and said, “excuse me?” he choked & tried to say, “we weren’t talking about you.” she said, “yes you were, but that’s okay beacuse we are.” we are. they then proceeded to the ladies room. needless to say, i may now have a new hero.
oh guys, its time you knew women are just as ruthless as you are. we check out your asses & the size of your, ahem, feet. we extract key details that tell us if you can afford us and can figure out if you’re married or have a girlfriend in new york minute. women talk amongst each other & exchange every single humiliating detail. we can get your bio & rap sheet from each other faster than a google search. of course, we still may not make the best decisions armed even with the proper knowledge, but that’s a whole other issue.
i have no point in writing this other than to hear the quiet sobbing of men & to share what a classy bitch i am. i am aware i will probably never get another date now, but i can always hit on this guy at that bar…

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