Some Sweet Thursday in December.
Bad idea.
A friend, who will remain unnamed, wanted to go out one night. I did too. This was good, that we both wanted to do something at the same time. It meant that we could do something together, to go out. To a comedy show.
But this, this was a very bad idea. My friend had diarrhea. Loose watery stools. The runs. The shits. The hershey squirts. Anal leakage. Mud butt. Assplotion.
You see he was already quite drunk and feeling the effects of large quantities of alcohol on his delicate digestive system. (He is lactose retarded and the balance of his digestive system is as delicate as a flower.) But he wanted to go out. And I wanted to go out.
I went back and forth between firmly saying "No, this is a bad idea" and "Let's do it, it will be fun" for about an hour, during which my friend used the toilet no less than 11 times and called Comedian A who happened to be in the middle of doing a show. Not once. Twice. Three times? He was quite drunk already. I think I mentioned that.
My friend relayed to me after one of these phone conversations that there was going to be a party after this show. We were missing the show and by now expected to miss the whole thing. But we would go to the show to find out where this party would be, because it would be at some other location.
Eventually, we decided to take a car, because my friend thought he couldn't take a long walk to the train, then a transfer, and more walking to our final destination. But if we took a car, he thought he'd be okay. I was skeptical. But I was in the mood to go do something. So I let my desire to get drunk override all commmon sense and reason.
By the next time my friend used the toilet, we were waiting on a car. I decided then that we should cancel the car. This was a bad idea. I could sense it. He shouted from the bathroom that we should go, and then came out and asked if I thought it was a good idea. I said no. I dialed the car service to cancel. Then the car was there.
We arrive in the East Village. Walking up to the bar we come across Famous Comedian B having a cigarette. My friend knows him from working on a movie. I believe we kind of smile and nod and then I believe Comedian B turns to face the building as we come nearer. We keep walking, or so I think. A few yards down I turn and realize my incredibly drunk friend is standing facing Comedian B's back, not two inches between them, Comedian B facing the building. I panic, thinking my very drunk friend is very much embarassing himself right now. I think that my friend has not spoken to Comedian B before he comes up behind him and starts talking. This I think we can all agree would be a bit creepy. More than a bit. Extremely creepy and above all, embarassingly creepy.
"Friend! What the fuuu..." I begin and Comedian B looks at me and I know by freaking out I've just made it worse. Apparently my friend was talking to Comedian B before creeping up behind all creepy-like. So I'm making a big deal out of (almost) nothing. The thing is still a little weird, as my friend is still more than a little drunk. And I know I heard him say "do you remember me." Ouch. (And yes I am an asshole for telling this story. But just wait, I will get mine.)
My friend joins me and we turn the corner to go into the bar. He has asked me to tell the bouncer guy we're just there for the party, to try to get us in for free, because I'm a girl, and because he knows the guy. This is not something I do. I have never done it before. I find it embarassing and am embarassed for people who try shit like that. But tonight everything is off so I say "We're just here for Comedian A's party" and the bouncer guy says "It's five dollars." I look at my friend, look behind us, and see Comedian B standing there, having just witnessed my humiliatingly stupid try at getting around paying.
We pay. We watch the last bit of the show. My friend makes a run to the bathroom. We buy expensive beers. I again ask my friend if there is really a party tonight, or if it's just the usual after show hanging out that they call an after party. My suspicions are correct. My friend realizes that the party he was thinking of is Comedian A's New Year's Eve party.
My friend suffers a concussion and a broken clavicle when I throw him across the room.
Big, bad, embarassing BAD BAD IDEA.
We agreed to never speak of it again and only refer to it as "bad idea".
Oops.
A friend, who will remain unnamed, wanted to go out one night. I did too. This was good, that we both wanted to do something at the same time. It meant that we could do something together, to go out. To a comedy show.
But this, this was a very bad idea. My friend had diarrhea. Loose watery stools. The runs. The shits. The hershey squirts. Anal leakage. Mud butt. Assplotion.
You see he was already quite drunk and feeling the effects of large quantities of alcohol on his delicate digestive system. (He is lactose retarded and the balance of his digestive system is as delicate as a flower.) But he wanted to go out. And I wanted to go out.
I went back and forth between firmly saying "No, this is a bad idea" and "Let's do it, it will be fun" for about an hour, during which my friend used the toilet no less than 11 times and called Comedian A who happened to be in the middle of doing a show. Not once. Twice. Three times? He was quite drunk already. I think I mentioned that.
My friend relayed to me after one of these phone conversations that there was going to be a party after this show. We were missing the show and by now expected to miss the whole thing. But we would go to the show to find out where this party would be, because it would be at some other location.
Eventually, we decided to take a car, because my friend thought he couldn't take a long walk to the train, then a transfer, and more walking to our final destination. But if we took a car, he thought he'd be okay. I was skeptical. But I was in the mood to go do something. So I let my desire to get drunk override all commmon sense and reason.
By the next time my friend used the toilet, we were waiting on a car. I decided then that we should cancel the car. This was a bad idea. I could sense it. He shouted from the bathroom that we should go, and then came out and asked if I thought it was a good idea. I said no. I dialed the car service to cancel. Then the car was there.
We arrive in the East Village. Walking up to the bar we come across Famous Comedian B having a cigarette. My friend knows him from working on a movie. I believe we kind of smile and nod and then I believe Comedian B turns to face the building as we come nearer. We keep walking, or so I think. A few yards down I turn and realize my incredibly drunk friend is standing facing Comedian B's back, not two inches between them, Comedian B facing the building. I panic, thinking my very drunk friend is very much embarassing himself right now. I think that my friend has not spoken to Comedian B before he comes up behind him and starts talking. This I think we can all agree would be a bit creepy. More than a bit. Extremely creepy and above all, embarassingly creepy.
"Friend! What the fuuu..." I begin and Comedian B looks at me and I know by freaking out I've just made it worse. Apparently my friend was talking to Comedian B before creeping up behind all creepy-like. So I'm making a big deal out of (almost) nothing. The thing is still a little weird, as my friend is still more than a little drunk. And I know I heard him say "do you remember me." Ouch. (And yes I am an asshole for telling this story. But just wait, I will get mine.)
My friend joins me and we turn the corner to go into the bar. He has asked me to tell the bouncer guy we're just there for the party, to try to get us in for free, because I'm a girl, and because he knows the guy. This is not something I do. I have never done it before. I find it embarassing and am embarassed for people who try shit like that. But tonight everything is off so I say "We're just here for Comedian A's party" and the bouncer guy says "It's five dollars." I look at my friend, look behind us, and see Comedian B standing there, having just witnessed my humiliatingly stupid try at getting around paying.
We pay. We watch the last bit of the show. My friend makes a run to the bathroom. We buy expensive beers. I again ask my friend if there is really a party tonight, or if it's just the usual after show hanging out that they call an after party. My suspicions are correct. My friend realizes that the party he was thinking of is Comedian A's New Year's Eve party.
My friend suffers a concussion and a broken clavicle when I throw him across the room.
Big, bad, embarassing BAD BAD IDEA.
We agreed to never speak of it again and only refer to it as "bad idea".
Oops.
posted by lauren at 12:17 AM
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