Memories

Posted: August 5, 2007 in Uncategorized

One of my favorite local bloggers posted some seriously funny pictures on her site this weekend. To understand the point of this particular post, it is necessary to see what inspired it. Laurie Kendrick posted pictures of passed out drunks and what can happen if you pass out at the wrong time and in the company of the wrong people.

This brought back so many memories. Some are funny and others are just too distastful to mention here. I’ll stick with the former.

When I was still living in Corpus Christi I had a friend who took me to a party held by a band of Cretins. These guys were barbarians. I was told that anyone that passes out is used as a pinata. Soon enough after I was there, some poor, drunk fool nodded off on the couch. He was placed in the middle of the living room floor and shaved; His chest, his happy trail and one eybrow. After that, they took his lifeless passed-out body to the patio and layed him on a bench swing. Then they used a roll of duct tape to tie him down to it. Before I could get my friend to take me back home, I saw the mob panic at what they had done. They did what they thought was the right thing to do: They found a thick black marker and drew his eyebrow back on.

This one comes from my bartending days. Oh, how I am so glad to be out of that business. One night at about 4:00 AM when I, another bartender and the manager were about to set the alarm, dash out and lock the door we heard an agonizing groan from one of the bathrooms. We naturally checked the men’s room first and found some guy with his pants down to his ankles sitting on a toilet with his head between his knees. There is no telling how many hours he had been there. Passed out. Eric, my bartending partner and self-appointed bouncer spoke up first. The manager and I were laughing too hard to say anything but we heard this:

Eric: Hey! What the fuck?
Drunk: (slowly lifting head) What the . . . cain’t a man take a shit in peace anymore . . .
Eric: Dude! It’s fucking four O’clock in the morning!

We could do nothing but sit down at a table and try to get out of our laughing fit while Eric “escorted” the guy out of the place. Just so you know, the guy lived around the corner and was on foot.

Did you think I was going to leave myself out of this? How could I? I can’t give you the really good stories here but I’ll tell this one. Shortly after I moved here to Houston, I somehow got mixed up with the absolute most psycho Cajun girl of all time. I’m not talking about Cajun decent, this girl was the real thing. She was a dark-skinned beauty whose entire family refused to leave Louisiana or accept anyone that didn’t share their surname (LaFitte). She was strong as a man and had a temper so bad that she could take on a bandsaw and win.

She insisted (demanded) that I stop by her place when I got off work from my bartending shift. Of course this is about 4:00 AM. After one particularly exhausting night of dealing with drunks and fighters, I reluctantly stopped by miss Lafitte’s place as I was told. I know this makes me look weak but I was much younger and she was so pretty. And crazy. Damned me, I was so tired that I fell asleep over there which I learned is something that was not tolerated or allowed to go unpunished.

I woke up in the morning with her looking down and cackling at me. I didn’t know why until I saw my fingernails. They were painted whore-red. Fine. As I was putting on my shoes, I noticed that my toenails had been “did” too. Whatever. It was only when I went to brush my teeth that I realized just how much damage she had done. I looked in the mirror and scared the shit out of myself. I had an “admission” of my negligence written with a thick black marker from my chest to my waist. It also stated that I would never do such a thing ever again which as you might expect I didn’t. My face was completely covered with makeup. I had eyeshadow, mascara, and something red smeared on both sides of my face and my lips were painted hooker-red. On my forehead was the word “TURD” written with the same black marker she used on my torso. I removed what I could from my face and drove home to remove whatever else I could before I went back to work that night at 6:00.

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Comments
  1. This is a beautiful story! It reminds me of the time I did something to my big, handsome serious jock boyfriend.

    He was a sound sleeper and could fall asleep anywhere, at anytime. In retrospect, I think the bastard was narcoleptic.

    Anyway, one Saturday afternoon, he fell asleep on me–again–so I got fire engine red nail polish and did his nails…all ten of them. He woke up about an hour later and I asked him to pick up a few things the grocery store. He did and never noticed until he tried to pay for the stuff.

    He got back home…carrying bags with the prettiest polished nails in South Central Texas.

    One more thing, he was extremely pissed off and said that when he was at the cash register and didn’t notice his nails until he reached for his wallet. He said he screamed “Goddamn Laurie!!” when he saw them.

    HAHAHAHAHA!

    The cashier thought he was bleeding.

    Thanks for linking to my site, Greg. I appreciate it!

    Laurie

  2. Laura says:

    Does doing something to YOURSELF in said situation count?
    i.e., 3:00am self nose-piercing. LOL

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