Reason to start a lesbionic relationship.
Yesterday night was one hell of a night. EC, D, and I decided to hit up a Hookah bar down by KSU. I had never been there before but I figure it's just one more place where I can unleash my stunning personality, charm, and wit on the local populace. So, we head down to the 'bar' at around 9pm. This is earlier then I like to normally head out because I tend to pre-game at my house on a regular basis, but I was told we were heading to a bar, so I was game.
If you've never been to a Hookah 'bar' I will warn you this one – NOT A FUCKING BAR! The waiter, if you could call him that, came over with their pathetic menu. The strongest thing on it is fucking Monster. Now, don't get me wrong! I live off of caffeine drinks, usually Red Bull, but I am not picky. Monster has gotten me through late night study sessions in my brief stint in college, all night parties, and the "what-the-fuck-did-I-do?" hangovers the next day. However, this is not my idea of top shelf shit and it depressed me that I couldn't get anything better than that. After sucking down three of them and killing one and a half hookahs with my two friends, nothing eventful happened. I figured that this was going to be a night that I would soon forget, move past, and catalog in the things never to do again file. Then it started picking up.
Every table filled up in a matter of moments and eventually there was a line out the door. As we were sitting there smoking away, this not-cute-but-not-ugly-enough-to-make-me-wretch guy walked over and started talking to us. He was slightly intoxicated and, I figured, my only source of entertainment for the night. So, after picking on him a bit to see if he could take it, we invited him and his friends to sit with us.
Introductions were being passed around and everyone was saying hello. EC, like the asshole he is, hits the Hookah with his elbow and the hot coal from the top falls out and hits Drunky McSloshedface's crotch. DMcS, as I like to call him, sits there for at least a twenty second interval with this coal burning away at his man bits before his fight or flight instincts kick in. Now, faced with a burning crotch, I would most likely choose the flight option: stand up brush the coal off of myself and then laugh at the situation. DMcS chose the fight option. He pulls back his fist and starts mutilating his crotch in a drunken attempt to Mike Tyson the coal away from his now enkindled member. He looked like a rabid monkey, complete with the too-drunk-to-hold-my-mouth-closed spit trail and grunting noises that one can only hope were result of the pain he was in. And after that many punches to his very own groin he should have been in pain.
Once he was done bowdlerizing his own genitalia, he sits back down, spots the coal on the ground, and picks it up with his bare hands to place it back atop the hookah so he can get another hit. He hits it hard and passes over to D without so much as a second glance. As if flailing about like a window licking epileptic was cool.
A short time later, he asked for my number. Now do you see why I am still single?
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Because men are fist-flailing sillies and the coal landed there for one simple, fateful task--to reduce his chances of adding his progeny to the gene pool.
ReplyDeleteSeriously, Sta, it's time to go lesbian.
I went through the same thing when I went there two weeks ago, I was lead to believe that there would be alcohol and there was not. I was quite sad, luckily, there is a bar not more then 2 yards from the door, so it worked out. I ran into your parents the other day at Giant Eagle, your mom didn't even recognize me. It's been too long, we must do something soon. Later.
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