Friday, January 14, 2005

Out of Order.

Phew. I'm tired, a little sore, yet, in a really good mood. Last night, Krista and I made our weekly trek to the local watering hole. I'm not afraid to admit that I'm not the super mom that some SAHM's are. I can't live with my kids all day, EVERY DAY and still like them consistently. I need to get away from them in order to appreciate them. Plus, I do need to keep up my rigorous flirt schedule. I wouldn't want to get rusty.

Anyway. We ended up at a new place last night called "Fat Moe's". It was a very refreshing change from our regular biker-hangout/honky-tonk/good 'ole boy dive. This bar is situated underneath the historic Rogers Hotel and you have to walk downstairs to get there. (Which, when you really think about it, is a good thing. It's much safer to walk down the stairs sober and up the stairs drunk.) As we walked down the stairs to expose ourself to the room, we realized that this is going to be similar to the Boxcar. The room was positively teeming with men. Upon entering, I spied only a handful of women. Despite my outstounding record as a top quality flirt, I do get a bit nervous being surrounded by so many of the male persuasion. Especially, those of the DRUNK male persuasion.

The first stop was of course the Ladies room. (Women know that when you go to a new club/bar, the very first thing you do is figure out where the potty is. This is essential.) Upon our return, we ran into someone we knew and immediately ordered beers. After a few minutes of chatting, the pool table started to call my name and I couldn't stand it any longer. However with only 2 pool tables and one of them being broken, I was forced to steal the table away from the 4 drunken men who were drinking Tequila by the boatload. I promise you, these men were nice and polite when we first walked in, but by the end of the 2nd game they were TOAST. Each of them consumed 2 large shots during the course of the 2 games and by the time those 2 fateful shots were gone, they were reduced to slobbering piles of goo. It was just too easy. One of them even attempted to hump Krista's leg.

My pool skills were MAD last night. I was making bank shots, and rail shots, and cutting like no tomorrow. The tall guy with the buzz cut was flirting and sending me shy looks. Mr. Ostrich boots was trying to twirl me around the pool tables as someone else slaughtered Lonestar's Amazed. Between the unabashed attention from the 4 drunken amigos, I was feeling pretty damn special. (In that short bus kind of way.) Isn't it hilarious when you can hear people whispering about you? I knew that they were wondering if my single platinum band was a wedding ring, because drunk people don't whisper very quietly.

As we finished the 2nd game of pool, I excused myself to go the ladies room. Upon entering the bathroom, I stopped and looked at myself in the mirror in absolute horror for atleast 10 minutes. My fly was open. My fly was open for THE ENTIRE TIME WE HAD BEEN THERE. The 2 pool games, the 2 beers, the twirling with Mr. Ostrich boots and flirting with buzz head had ALL been accompanied by MY BLACK PANTIES being displayed for the world to see.

Do you know who didn't tell me that my fly was open for ATLEAST AN HOUR?

My friend.

However, she did take a sign off of my ass that read "out of order". Next time, maybe you could take the sign that someone attaches to my ass and place it over the wide open crotch area? Thanks.


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