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oiranIdeally, this would have been a drunk post last Friday, but since I'm still amused by my horrid behavior, I shall recount it anyway.
Mr G and I met up with his co-worker Chuck, and Chuck's friend, Doctor, at the Clap Your Hands Say Yeah show. I had some stupid idea that since none of my friends know who the hell CYHSY are, no one else would, either. I was wrong, and the show was sold out. When we go to this particular venue, however, I am always extra-certain to apply gallons of perfume because the owner/manager of said venue likes the way I smell, and on this occasion it came in very handy. He popped outside for a breather, I made wistful comments about my desire to actually be inside and propped my boobs up on a railing so that he could see/smell them as much as he wanted, and minutes later we were all ushered in. Thankfully, Mr. G is a modern man and does not object to me whoring myself out to get my way when it can't help but benefit him, as well.
CYHSY were great. Go see them if they come to your town. They seem a little stunned by their success, actually, and perhaps even a bit worried about it, but they played hard and well and left the crowd happy.
Personally, I was very, very happy. I had at least three double greyhounds (vodka + grapefruit) and had already been fairly high on life because of the whole feminine wiles entry fee thing, and was feeling awfully frisky. So much so, that when I went to the bar to get a bottle of water after the performance, I was most receptive to the young man who started talking to me. It was a cheesefest, but I was willing to go along with it because I was cheerful and hammered.
Boy: How are you tonight?
Me: WONDERFUL! *leaning heavily on bar, trying on drunkenness to see how it fits* Wasn't that a great show?
Boy: Yeah, really good. What are you drinking?
Me: Water.
Boy: *flummoxed by non-alcoholic bevvy choice*
Me: *placing water order with bartender*
Boy: *squinting appraisingly and approvingly through his emo glasses* So...I think it's possible that you're...a little older than me.
Me: *leaning on boy a little bit, just for the hell of it* Oh, god, I'm a LOT older than you.
Boy: Like, you might even be 30.
Me: I'm WAY older than 30! (you dirty little milf chaser!)
Boy: So, you're...31?
Me: *giddy, power-mad cackling* No, I'm 39! THIRTY-NINE!
Boy: *looking really pleased and leaning on me* Do you have a boyfriend?
Me: No, but I have a husband! *practically putting my head on Boy's shoulder*
Boy: Is that him? *nods to indicate subject of query*
Me: *turning head, still leaning on boy, seeing Chuck and Doctor* No, that's his FRIEND!
Chuck and Doctor: *horrified!!!*
Boy: *smugly* It doesn't seem like he likes you talking to a Younger Man. (the CAPS are totally audible!)
Me: Probably not! (Yay! I've met someone with a Mrs. R fantasy more grandiose than my own!)
Bartender: *setting down overpriced tiny bottle of water* There you go.
Boy: *mouth moving, sounds coming out*
Me: *not really paying attention but feeling incredibly content with the world*
Boy: *mouth moving, sounds coming out*
Me: *looking boy in the eye, holding boy's chin, kissing boy on lips, turning and walking away*
Boy: *stunned*
Mr. G: *raising eyebrow*
Chuck and Doctor: *horrified!!!*
Me: Woo-hoo! I kissed a stranger!
Actually, I really did feel that I'd shown restraint - in fact, I'd used it up in the process of NOT showing club owner how much I appreciated him letting us in via physical demonstration. We interact with club owner fairly often in a non-kissing context and we (okay, I) need to keep it that way, whereas I seriously doubt I'd recognize Boy if I saw him again. In that regard, Mr. G has helpfully assured me that Boy wasn't cute at all.
We then went to another club that Chuck likes, but they were closing, so we went to yet another club with a bartender from Club #1 in tow. At Club #2, I continued to be drunk, cheerful, narcissistic, and a complete, happy bitch. There were some young girls sitting in our big booth/room who were simply nowhere near so hot as I was, which I pointed out loudly and often, and I got plenty of agreement, further swelling my head. Mr. G kept ordering me drinks for some reason, and I kept drinking them. I think Doctor fell in love with me a little bit, but he'll get over that with repeated exposures, I'm sure. Bartender from Club #1 expressed interest in being around me again, and Mr. G is encouraging me to apply for the position of Hag, though I'm not sure that Bartender is really enough of a Fag to keep my attention. Also, he was very drunk, too, and will probably forget having met either me or the Mr. We'll see.
Mr G and I met up with his co-worker Chuck, and Chuck's friend, Doctor, at the Clap Your Hands Say Yeah show. I had some stupid idea that since none of my friends know who the hell CYHSY are, no one else would, either. I was wrong, and the show was sold out. When we go to this particular venue, however, I am always extra-certain to apply gallons of perfume because the owner/manager of said venue likes the way I smell, and on this occasion it came in very handy. He popped outside for a breather, I made wistful comments about my desire to actually be inside and propped my boobs up on a railing so that he could see/smell them as much as he wanted, and minutes later we were all ushered in. Thankfully, Mr. G is a modern man and does not object to me whoring myself out to get my way when it can't help but benefit him, as well.
CYHSY were great. Go see them if they come to your town. They seem a little stunned by their success, actually, and perhaps even a bit worried about it, but they played hard and well and left the crowd happy.
Personally, I was very, very happy. I had at least three double greyhounds (vodka + grapefruit) and had already been fairly high on life because of the whole feminine wiles entry fee thing, and was feeling awfully frisky. So much so, that when I went to the bar to get a bottle of water after the performance, I was most receptive to the young man who started talking to me. It was a cheesefest, but I was willing to go along with it because I was cheerful and hammered.
Boy: How are you tonight?
Me: WONDERFUL! *leaning heavily on bar, trying on drunkenness to see how it fits* Wasn't that a great show?
Boy: Yeah, really good. What are you drinking?
Me: Water.
Boy: *flummoxed by non-alcoholic bevvy choice*
Me: *placing water order with bartender*
Boy: *squinting appraisingly and approvingly through his emo glasses* So...I think it's possible that you're...a little older than me.
Me: *leaning on boy a little bit, just for the hell of it* Oh, god, I'm a LOT older than you.
Boy: Like, you might even be 30.
Me: I'm WAY older than 30! (you dirty little milf chaser!)
Boy: So, you're...31?
Me: *giddy, power-mad cackling* No, I'm 39! THIRTY-NINE!
Boy: *looking really pleased and leaning on me* Do you have a boyfriend?
Me: No, but I have a husband! *practically putting my head on Boy's shoulder*
Boy: Is that him? *nods to indicate subject of query*
Me: *turning head, still leaning on boy, seeing Chuck and Doctor* No, that's his FRIEND!
Chuck and Doctor: *horrified!!!*
Boy: *smugly* It doesn't seem like he likes you talking to a Younger Man. (the CAPS are totally audible!)
Me: Probably not! (Yay! I've met someone with a Mrs. R fantasy more grandiose than my own!)
Bartender: *setting down overpriced tiny bottle of water* There you go.
Boy: *mouth moving, sounds coming out*
Me: *not really paying attention but feeling incredibly content with the world*
Boy: *mouth moving, sounds coming out*
Me: *looking boy in the eye, holding boy's chin, kissing boy on lips, turning and walking away*
Boy: *stunned*
Mr. G: *raising eyebrow*
Chuck and Doctor: *horrified!!!*
Me: Woo-hoo! I kissed a stranger!
Actually, I really did feel that I'd shown restraint - in fact, I'd used it up in the process of NOT showing club owner how much I appreciated him letting us in via physical demonstration. We interact with club owner fairly often in a non-kissing context and we (okay, I) need to keep it that way, whereas I seriously doubt I'd recognize Boy if I saw him again. In that regard, Mr. G has helpfully assured me that Boy wasn't cute at all.
We then went to another club that Chuck likes, but they were closing, so we went to yet another club with a bartender from Club #1 in tow. At Club #2, I continued to be drunk, cheerful, narcissistic, and a complete, happy bitch. There were some young girls sitting in our big booth/room who were simply nowhere near so hot as I was, which I pointed out loudly and often, and I got plenty of agreement, further swelling my head. Mr. G kept ordering me drinks for some reason, and I kept drinking them. I think Doctor fell in love with me a little bit, but he'll get over that with repeated exposures, I'm sure. Bartender from Club #1 expressed interest in being around me again, and Mr. G is encouraging me to apply for the position of Hag, though I'm not sure that Bartender is really enough of a Fag to keep my attention. Also, he was very drunk, too, and will probably forget having met either me or the Mr. We'll see.
