Tag Archives: humor

Tipsy Times: The Man With The Bread

18 Oct

Friday night I looked down at my phone to see a friend I hadn’t seen a while asking me to hit the town with her and her buddies. Normally I do not put myself in seemingly awkward situations. On this particular night I was feeling rather claustrophobic in the confines of my apartment and decided maybe it was time to meet some new people.

I got all dolled up and headed over to the other side of town to the douchiest bar. I did not give it that name, it is that, it is a fact, it’s on the list. This bar is just hm…I don’t know how to describe it. You have your mix off college kids, and older guys trying to hit on younger girls, and younger girls being slutty, well borderline slutty. It is quite the place.

That night was filled with random characters, drunkenness is the breaking of bread for the young generation. By the end of the night I had encounters with almost everyone in that place. But,  I want to focus on just one story from that night. I was standing nursing some drink I can’t remember the name of that my friend has bought me. She was standing near me looking around. This man comes up to me. He is a small man, and he is a cartoon character. That was my first thought too ” This man is a cartoon character”. He spoke like one, his facial expressions were not those of humans, he smiled too much and he stood like Elmer Fudd.

This exact stance, but without the gun and the rabbit

So he shall be referred to as Elmer from now on. So, Elmer walks up to me and tells me that this man standing next to him is a kick ass drummer who just played two sets at something called the Garage.” Oh impressive” I say. The drummer;s name is dave. He is wearing a three piece suit and has black-rimmed glasses, my kind of man. Elmer is still talking about this fabulous drummer. Then points out another guy ” This , THIS, guy just kicked ass too! He is on trumpet! They are awesome, these guys are going to make it! These guys played an amazing set at the garage!”

“Excuse me,” I chime in. ” What do you do in the band?”

” I am nothing, I am their manager.”

” So I shouldn’t believe you, because you are biased.”

” No, they are awesome. Would I lie to you?”

” How the fuck should I know?”

” Okay, ” at this point he lifts up his hands, ” I am holding a loaf of bread. Why would I lie to you if I was holding a loaf of bread?” In his hand is a plastic bag with a loaf of bread.

I am not understanding this logic and I am trying to figure out how he got B from A. I ask, he  has no answer. ” They played a great set , two sets, at the Garage. That is all you need to know. They are awesome they killed it at the Garage.”

” Wait, where did they  play?”

” The Garage.”

“Wait, no way, they played the garage!?” Dave and his horn blowing counterpart are finding me hilarious.

” You shouldn’t be talking to me,” Elmer says, ” these guys are the talent.”

I tell him I will not talk to him. ” You are still talking to me!” Now he is yelling. I tell his “talent” that they need to pay him more, 10% is not nearly enough. He is a pimp. I move away from him. Elmer sits on a stool and watches my friend and I exchange words with his musicians. This is uncomfortable. I ask about the bread again, but no one wants to give me an answer. We were all talking for a while, trumpet man plays the “let me guess your major ” game, he gets it on the second try and tells me I am pretty much the woman of his dreams. Elmer is still watching. I am still uncomfortable. It is time I move away. Dave follows me. He takes a sip from my drink, excuse you. Your black-rimmed glasses do not get you off the hook for everything ! Thankfully I was pretty much done with it, it was starting to taste like wax. I still did not appreciate it though. I tried to move somewhere else. It is not easy they keep trailing behind.

And thus onto the people at the beer pong table, I strike up a conversation with a joke obviously and it keeps the jazz crawlers at bay.

Still no answer to the bread, but I did get a ” If you are not a foodie, you won’t get it.”

Till Next Time,

Daffodil Sparkle

 

 

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Pub Crawl Rome Saga: Final Chapter

11 Oct

This is the last and final piece of this story. I could drag it out keep you guys on my rope but I will not be so cruel.

So here we go…where was I? Oh leaving the second place.

So the guide blows his whistle and it is time to hustle off to the next bar. And by hustle I mean stumble slowly. I think I fell somewhere between bar  two and bar three. I will blame my shoes. Anyway, I need to backtrack, shoes are important here. A borrowed my shoes that night. I had an extra pair of flip-flops and to avoid having to have a conversation with her I allowed her to borrow them for the night. On the way to the third bar, she breaks the flip-flop yup, bitch broke it. So it is just a flip-flop and I would be going home soon so it was fine, I am not going to go all Bad Girls Club on her. But, she being her neurotic ridiculous self takes the shoe throws it in my face while we are walking and goes ” Your sucky flip-flop broke”. Jersey boy is standing next to me, and she should be happy that I don’t have much of a temper because I wanted to shove that shoe up her ass, I said ” excuse me, don’t throw things we are not 5, and secondly you probably broke it with all your spazztic jazz dancing.” She starts yelling at me, Jersey boy goes ” You should never lend her anything, what a bitch,”.

We get to the third place and I turn around to talk to R and I turn back around and see that A has taken Jersey Boy’s arm and is dragging him away from me. I found ou later that A told him that I told her to do that because I was trying to get with an australian. He is not so bright. Now, I do not care about these things usually, this is a guy at a bar not my future husband. However, this girl had gotten on my last nerve. I remained pretty civil the whole trip, and I was allowed to be mad.  R and I leave both of them.

Onto the next bar, the final bar, bar number four. R, one of the Australians, R’s guy she found and I all decide to hit the dance floor. Now, out of the corner of my eye I see A literally jump on Jersey Boy, JUMP. I was finding this whole situation annoying, but pretty hilarious. I was over it, I had a hot australian in front of me. There is a picture somewhere on the internet of R and I side by side doing some minimally questionable things on the dance floor. Whoops.

It is pretty early in the morning, or really late in the night depending on how you choose to look at it and it is time to go home.  The bar is closing and there is a curfew on the hostel if you come in past 4 then it closes and you cannot get in. Really they will not let you in ( stories to come about that hostel).

Now we are in bumble-fuck. Literally there is absolutely nothing around, no cars, no buildings, just the club and trees and empty roads. R and I are trying to read this little map they gave us on how to get back to the Spanish Steps, map was frustrating me, I threw it. We go to find A, and she is not listening which is funny because she usually made us go home at 8pm. She brushes us off and R and I decide we are going to go outside and try to get a cab or something. As we are waiting A comes out yelling YELLING that we need to get back to the hostel and R and I should stop playing around we are going to make her miss curfew and I just turn to her and go ” Are you fucking kidding me?” R is laughing. Now, I have really had enough.

Jersey Boy sees us outside, comes out to me and asks if I want to hang out more, or maybe another night. ” No thanks” I tell him. Because I pick them well my Aussie found us a cab. And by us I mean he R and I. Aussie and R get in the cab and I follow, ” Bu bye A you can go home with Jersey boy or yourself, see ya!” And I close the door. She stood there looking dumfounded and we laughed all the way home.

The Aussie pays for the cab for R and I and we get back with time to spare and R and I see no sign of A. I am told I called A a slut about 57 times and we stumbled into the hostel. No sign of A. R and I stay up talking a bit, no sign of A. We wake up the next morning to find her laying outside like a bum. She missed curfew and had to sleep outside, she deserved it. Did I mention that she not only paid for her own cab but Jersey Boy’s too? HA! We climb over her and head to breakfast.

Till Next Time,

Daffodil Sparkle

Lonesome Bar Trip Update

30 Sep

This is just a short update because apparently that story was not over.

This past week, I get a text message from a random number and I open the box and it says ” Hi, it is Fernando want to go out tonight?” Okay so I don’t know if those were the exact words , I deleted the messages, I think there were some emoticons involved and some txt spk but that was the message.

So I don’t know what to do, obviously I am not going to jump on that bandwagon, but I also don’t want to ignore the message in case I ever see him again. I decided to just answer “Sorry, I have work to do.”  I delete the message and the number.

Of course he does not stop there, he wants me , urges me, to text him whenever I want to hang out with him, he emphasizes WHENEVER. I ignore that.

This past Friday night I am out with my friend at the bar where I met Fernando, and I guess I should have avoided it, I should have known better.  Guess who was there? Yup, Fernando in the flesh. He is surprised to see me, he gropes me. Gropes. There is hugging and then there is lingering and then there is groping. He tells me he is upset that I am not with him instead. I apologize and tell him as he can see I am busy. He just stands there and stares, and laughs, there was a fist bump involved ( I think he was trying to seem younger) he whistled at me. I won’t lie his accent is kind of appealing.

But something about a 40 year old hitting on a 21 year old is creepy, amIright? I think so.  It’s all very To Catch A Predator.

I guess I need to find a new spot.

Till Next Time,

Daffodil Sparkle

Pub Crawl Rome Saga: Part 2

22 Sep

I am back with the second installment of the Pub Crawl saga.

Where did I leave off…oh on our way to the second bar.

The group is already stumbling and there are three more bars to go… we are on the bus and Jersey Boy and I are still talking, the Australians are still being Australian and the night is young and fun. R and I are ignoring A and minding our own drunkenness.

We arrive at bar number 2. This one a little less “cluby” a little more”puby”. The Australians buy us all drinks. Long Island Ice Teas and I pass mine over to Jersey Boy since I cannot drink those. Now the Aussie that A has her eyes on  is pretty drunk, and still won’t hook up with her ! Smart boy, he decides to go home.  Now she is mad, she is furious,  you would think someone stole her child, she is frantic. R is off somewhere talking to some girls we met and I and Jersey Boy are standing around. A comes marching over in her pashmina and stands directly between Jersey Boy and I ( facing him of course).  My jaw drops, what the hell does she think she is doing. I tap her on the shoulder and Jersey Boy walks around her., back to me.

One again she is mad. And what happens next is shocking, hilarious, and yet I may have predicted looking back on the trip. She rips off her  fucking pashmina, throws it to me and says “hold this” then she begins to dance. Yes I said dance. She stands in front of Jersey Boy and dances, and not in a sexy alluring way in a lets do a terrible jazz routine in this bar in which no one is dancing. I am laughing so hard and looking around for R to see if she is catching this, she is nowhere to be found, and I am sad that she is missing this. I can’t stop watching. Everyone is laughing at her, and giving her weird glances and I decide to take a seat with a drink and watch the show. Because this is gold!

The best is when she is done with her routine she stomps towards me and gives me one of those like ghetto chest like in your face things. I am laughing so hard I can barely tell her how ridiculous she is.

Where are this girl’s meds?

Till Next Time,

Daffodil Sparkle

In Which My Uncle Asks If I Would Write Literary Porn

30 Jul

I can’t believe I forgot about this one. Silly me.

Those in my family who care about the direction my life is taking are aware of my writing aspirations.

A little while back my uncle and I were discussing my future plans. Him being very aware that I am a broke college student was thinking of a way for me to make money, and do what I love.

” Wait a second, ” he said … ” My girlfriend’s brother is a publisher.”  I lit up immediately. ” Tell me more,” I said….

” Well, how do you feel about writing, uh, distasteful pieces?”

” You mean like erotica?”

“Uhm, pretty much.”

My parents who are sitting behind us, are chuckling ever so slightly. It may be nerves, or that they find this hilarious.   I can feel myself getting a little nervous.  I have no ability to publish anything remotely Fifty Shades– eque. Not because it is good writing, but because I have no imagination. Even if I did, I would not want such an ability to be known to my family members.

” Let me get this straight, ” I make some sort of hand movement in my uncle’s direction.” Your girlfriend’s brother only publishes literary porn, and you want me to write some?”

” Well, yes, it pays well. Hell I tried it myself, simply couldn’t do it.”

” We share that defect uncle.”

” Does that mean you won’t do it?”

” I may say if I could I would, but I probably wouldn’t. I am going to have to pass.”

” Understandable. But you should try,” he laughs. ” Quite the interesting way to make money.”

I went home that night and attempted this seemingly impossible endeavor. It was impossible. I could not do it. Fiction, which I don’t do, mixed with dirty talk… just didn’t work out quite well for me.

Although having some cash around would be nice.

At least my uncle and I now have something  to laugh about.

And to my parents, well I told them I am just not experienced enough for such writing 😉

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