OK, I'm drunk.
Thread Starter
0.0 BAR
Joined: Feb 2003
Posts: 0
OK, I'm drunk.
We hired a New Orleans refugee at work today, name of Justin, guy is originally from Charleston and has the southern gentlemen's drawl. Guy's been in town for 36 hours, hasn't slept, spent the last week in an auditorium under Red Cross administration. He needed a place to stay, I volunteered my couch. He's intelligent, on a par with Blundar I'd guess, and pretty unstable. PTSD is the word, or maybe the switch from microbiology curriculum to the masters in philosophy better sums it. Probably not particularly stable before Katrina, but worlds of difference since.
So I sat at a bar with this guy for two hours, watched him bum a guitar to play intricate classical guitar to impress some MILF who he didn't go home with. The MILF's friend, let's call her MILF2, came back fifteen minutes later to see if he'd go home with her. Justin turns her down. Guy is obviously in a state of shock, turns to me, "what am I doing? I should have went home with her."
We headed back to my house, had a couple of beers with my roomate Flash, the half-Persian terrorist, and then walked to the beer store since we were too drunk to drive 300 yards. He starts talking to some guy's (I ASSumed) girlfriend when I went in to buy beer. By the time I come out she's fully engaged, walks up and pinches my nips. WTF? I almost want to ask her if she wants to come home with me, but I'm afraid of a scorching case of the herpes. We walk halfway back to the house, and Justin bails saying he's ------- up again, shouldn't have left old girl. I laugh.
Twenty minutes ago he rolls up on my porch and starts ------- old girl in the hammock on my front porch.
I can't stop laughing. There was nothing else to do but send lemonparty.org's infamous picture to the neighbor's printer via wireless. They might actually set a password to their router, but I move the forst of October so I don't care too much.
So I sat at a bar with this guy for two hours, watched him bum a guitar to play intricate classical guitar to impress some MILF who he didn't go home with. The MILF's friend, let's call her MILF2, came back fifteen minutes later to see if he'd go home with her. Justin turns her down. Guy is obviously in a state of shock, turns to me, "what am I doing? I should have went home with her."
We headed back to my house, had a couple of beers with my roomate Flash, the half-Persian terrorist, and then walked to the beer store since we were too drunk to drive 300 yards. He starts talking to some guy's (I ASSumed) girlfriend when I went in to buy beer. By the time I come out she's fully engaged, walks up and pinches my nips. WTF? I almost want to ask her if she wants to come home with me, but I'm afraid of a scorching case of the herpes. We walk halfway back to the house, and Justin bails saying he's ------- up again, shouldn't have left old girl. I laugh.
Twenty minutes ago he rolls up on my porch and starts ------- old girl in the hammock on my front porch.
I can't stop laughing. There was nothing else to do but send lemonparty.org's infamous picture to the neighbor's printer via wireless. They might actually set a password to their router, but I move the forst of October so I don't care too much.
3.0 BAR
Joined: Apr 2003
Posts: 11,057
Re: OK, I'm drunk.
Originally Posted by Joseph Davis
He was gone when I got up this morning for court @ 8 am. For a guy with one change of clothes and a $21 pair of Walmart shoes the chef bought for him when he was hired, he's sure got game.
