small brush shouldn't fuck with big timber

Death's Door, the view from the Spanish announcers table: <strong>slow weekend</strong>

Monday, May 10

slow weekend

Quotes from the weekend.

You don’t look like a bouncer like I don’t look like a stripper”.

This from some drunk chick leaning against the bar at Benders when I told her no after she asked me if I was a bouncer or not.
I then told her that some of us can’t help the way we look.

“I’d fuck you, do my tits feel good rubbing against your back”?

This from a young bride to be hanging out in the Hurricane for her bachelorette party Saturday night, as she leaned against me trying to talk me into helping with her wish list.
My next question was; “and you’re getting married when”?

Friday night I went down to Bender’s to hear some loud rock and hang out with Mito a bit. I was a bit early so I had a seat at the bar and asked the bartender for some coffee. As I sat there drinking coffee I kept looking at the bartender who had this serious fight or flight look about her. I couldn’t tell wither she uneasy or just had these huge doe eyes or what, but I was pleasantly surprised to note that her nipples were pierced. Nothing major, just something to look as I waited for people to start wondering in. And yes, I am that easy to please sometime. Just ask Michelle. I ended up hanging there till almost midnight listening to the bands and talking to Mito before I hit the door for points south. Saturday I hung around the house all day watching TV and doing shit on the computer. I rented a few movies and one of em was Matrix Revolutions? Is that the right name? I guess it was all right. The Matrix movies never got my dick hard like some peoples and shit. Too much shit going on and all that I guess. Did Neo die in the end or what? Last I saw was the machine thingie dragging him away. Whatever. That night I went down to the Hurricane to hangout and whilst I was sitting at the bar minding my own business, I was besieged by this bachelorette party. Have I ever mentioned that I’m like a weird magnet for drunk brides to be. I never figured it out. What would a bride to be have to be thinking to go; “yeah baby! It’s my time, and all I wanna do for my last rash act as a single woman, is to go throw my titties and cooch all over that big black muthafucker sitting at the bar trying not to make eye-contact. The chick did ask me to help with her wish-list and so I picked two items out that looked easy. The first one was to buy her a shot. Simple enough I figured. The second one was to talk dirty to her. So as I handed her the shot I pulled her close and whispered really low in her ear that the cat standing next to me had a cock so big it had it’s own blood bank, and if they asked just right he’d uncrate that muthafucker and show it to em. Of course I’d never seen the cat before in my life.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"


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