Token end of The Year Post

Alright y'all, the end is here. I believe this will be my last post of the year. I wasn't sure exactly what it should be about. I hate New Year's resolutions so I don't think I'll be listing any of those. I do, however, believe I'll be giving y'all an overview of my year. Accomplishments, random highs, and yeah, even embarrassing moments and failures.

I had one hell of a year for 2013.  My first complete year to live in Mississippi since I'd moved away when I was younger. Every birthday, holiday, adventure, shenanigans all in Mississippi. Well. Mostly in Mississippi.

January I started the year out right with my birthday, having a gingerman over from New York.  I got woo'ed by him and also beat out him and his friend from hitting on a waitress and getting her number. Score for the ginger lady.  I also got a ginger cat named Bacon Shamus who drove me up a fuckin wall and after only a couple months of having him, gave him away to someone who could give him the attention he needed.

Lots of gingery in the month of January.

February also started out great with bartending school where I (didn't know at the time) met the gal who would become my best friend and my rock, Kandy. I also managed to get pulled over for intoxication of a vehicle I wasn't even driving and, the best part, in which no one was even drinking in. That's right. Dick cop saw a bunch of youngsters having fun and didn't think it was possible without the liquid courage. Womp womp.  Also finally got to participate in Mardi Gras and caught seven spears!

March was just smooth sailing. Making friends in school and learning who to avoid. It was the start of real friendships that would last and some that would later get me into trouble at the clubs.

April I finally found someone who would show me the ropes going to the clubs throughout the Gulf Coast. How to mingle for an easy drink and dip out before committing to a lame one night stand. Free drinks and shots began a new lifestyle for this northerner.

May is when I get my big news- no longer a housekeeper but a barback.  Then I got a second job as a bartender as well for a little while.. found out that one was a huge bust... I find out barbacking is everything I was looking for in a job.  Hustling for tips, add on a swag and a charm, along with hard work and keeping the bar under control. I meet some awesome people my age that I can hang with. I also scored a gig of (supposedly) seven hundred Indian guests. Dot, not feather.

June I take a trip to the past and fly up to Montana for a deliciously German wedding! Visit with old friends, tell them of all my new adventures, and invite them to come with me to create more. By the end of the month, I buy my baby... my '73 Volkswagen Beetle. I also meet some interesting people in the club and my dancing days come crashing in Biloxi when I find my friend isn't a friend at all.  My girl Kandy comes to the rescue and shows me what's up in Gulfport.

July is when I finally get to see New Orleans in my adult life.  A full year of living an hour away and I'd yet to find someone to adventure it with me.  This time I had five others- coworkers from my fantastic job.  Then 7/20 rolls around. For those of you who know my superstition, you know it was a big deal me losing my dream job on that day. A week before my probation period ended.  My world gets shifted out of motion.

In August, one of the shifty characters I'd met in the club introduced me to someone I wouldn't ordinarily talk to.  Some Brit he worked with.  One word was said about Volkswagen and BOOM the nonstop talk of the cars began. I'd finally found someone I could relate to and count on.  He taught me about the cars and in return I made banana bread and paintings. Oh, and finding another job as a barback was easy enough. Only unemployed for a couple weeks max.

September I was getting into my new swing of things working as the new graveyard barback and spending a lot of time with my new acquaintance.  Still in high hopes of hitting something big but the part time barback job was enough to keep my bills paid so I wasn't worrying. Kandy and I meet two more gentlemen at the club. Later to form what we call "The Group" and our own little makeshift family.

October... always my least favourite month of the year. A high superstition about this one as well, my heart strings are tugged on in all different directions.  I lay low for this month. Work. Mema. Home. Work. Mema. Home. Kept it simple until Halloween bartending gigs and the big Halloween party at one of the clubs. Ya girl here got schmammered.  Unlike in previous times though, I had a pack of friends with me that had my back and wouldn't let anyone try to harm me... not even some unsuspecting black Superman.

November I'm officially working more shifts on day and after a month of both grave and day shift barbacking, I'm a day walker. Took some getting used to and even a time or two of being late before getting into a "normal" sleep pattern... I'm still nocturnal.  Mister VW and I decide we're better friends and yes, to this day we are still talking and social.  My inner artists kicks in and paintings and puzzles are popping up everywhere.

December is where we bring my year to a closing. I talked to my boss at my old job, I don't want to spoil or jinx anything, but things might be looking up.  As for me and men? Well I think I've narrowed my search to just one. If he behaves, we'll see.  Last night I had to get out my baseball bat and call the cops, but that's a story all in it's own.

I did edit out some things throughout the year. Moments I couldn't pinpoint like when I finally joined the 21st century and got a cellular communication device- even has picture messaging! No matter how damn oldschool the phone is.  Things that I did in this year I told myself I never would. A night where ruphalyn might have been involved. You get the picture. Just a lot of crazy things in 2013.

For all of my friends who have always wondered what it would be like in a day of my shoes.. here's a whole year for you. It's an extraordinary life and it's mine.

It's a Small World After All

As y'all know by now, I do enjoy my clubbing from time to time. Not that of the baby seals, just the dancing, occasional drinking, and ego boosts from getting hit on by men.

A couple Thursdays ago, me and my ladies went to one of our favourite night clubs- we get in and drink free on these nights. It was a typical night, not one worth going into detail about. The usual happened:

• Dodge the man in a jumpsuit rolling on acid
• Dance to the songs we know
• Avoid 'creepers' and shank a bitch if one tries to mess with one of my girls
• Mildly  make fun of the go-go dancers who are terrible at dancing
  
  Typical evening.  

There was one gent in there kinda worth mentioning- a light skinned mulatto who eyed me from the edge of the dance floor. His approach was graceful and polite, his dance moves within the realm of ordinary black man moves, and his smile genuine. With him, the evening went on in waves.

He'd come for a dance, I'd stay for one, run back with my girls and continue our thing until approached again.  Once or twice he'd asked for my number and all I replied was "We'll see how the night goes." By the end of our evening when we were cutting out early, he makes a last attempt and I politely take his phone and enter in some random ten digits and tell him my phone is in the car.

We walk away, nothing to be seen here, nothing out of the ordinary.

Now the next week one of my main ladies was in town and upon request wanted to go to the same club as it is a favourite of her's as well. Thursday nights are always good nights so we go in and our usual yet again:

• Dodge the man in a jumpsuit rolling on acid
• Dance to the songs we know
• Avoid 'creepers' and shank a bitch if one tries to mess with one of my girls
• Mildly  make fun of the go-go dancers who are terrible at dancing
  
  Typical evening.
  

Until the nightmare of all of the wrong-number-handing-out girls' happens- the same guy sees me in the club.  I act natural, give him a wave, smile, and turn to dance with my ladies, sending the face of red-flag. It's our code face for abandon ship.

Of course, he casually came over to dance again within the night and told me the number was wrong.
"Oh that's weird," and gave him another fake. 

See, I have this problem with being rude or tellin someone to 'fuck off' if they really haven't done anything wrong or been mean in the slightest. So, giving out a wrong number and crossing my fingers I'll never see them again is the nicest way to let them know it's just not gonna happen.

We walk away, nothing to be seen here, nothing out of the ordinary.

Two days ago I started my workweek again. Ate the usual lunch down at the employee dining area (tuna wrap with spinach) and on my way back to the casino entrance, I look over at valet like I usually do to see who's coming in out of pure curiosity.

I'll have you know I see that delightful son of a bitch.

I'll also have you know he works for the same casino. In valet.

When I looked over, he was walking up to the doors and at the same time, we smiled at each other, I gave a half-assed wave and our facial expressions were similar; perplexed and thinking, hm. I've seen them somewhere before and as if our brains at the same time made the connection to the club, our eyes got wider and awkward oh shit smiles came across our faces.

I didn't stop, just kept walking and ran to my cocktails to gossip to them.

"BUSTED! You are sooooo busted!" One of them said as I concluded my story telling them who I just saw.
"Just tell him. Tell him you're taken if he says anything. That's understandable." Said another.
"Yeah, I know, it's just so weird! This never happens!"

The same day I did have to pass valet again to drop off the dirt rags in their determined bin. Headed back to the casino, he's walking toward me this time, smile on his face and we both start laughing.

"Oh my gosh hi!" He says with a hug.
"Haha hi. You're the guy from the club, aren't you?" I blush, wincing with embarrassment.
"Yeah yeah that's me. I was so drunk when I was there..." he chuckled a little, almost apologetically.

We're in good humours so I cut to the chase.
"So I totally gave you the wrong number on purpose." I start laughing. He laughs too, "Oh I asked for your number? I didn't even know! Oh man I was so gone that night. I remember us dancing a little," He says, a big smile still on his face.
"Oh really? It was no big deal, you didn't act an ass or anything, I'm just dating someone and I didn't want to give you a huge shut down is all."
Still chuckling at the whole scenario,"That's great! It's really no big deal, I don't even remember half the night!"

You would have thought we were old friends carrying on the way we were.
"Yeah I was there with him actually," Gesturing to one of his coworkers. He started walking toward the sliding doors to the outside and I also took my cue to head back to my post. "That's cool, I'll see you around."

And that, people, is why you always stay polite, courteous, and spare people their shame as often as you can. Never know who you'll run into again or work with.  

Halloween is Sexy

Alright so if you haven't heard it from the movie Mean Girls, you've heard it somewhere else at some time in your life: Halloween is the one day a year a girl can dress up as a complete slut and no one can say a word about it. Right?

Whether at Halloween parties, clubs, jobs that let you dress up, or even in passing at WallyWorld, we've all seen it before, some gal's gotta be wearing lingerie. Either an ass cheak hangin out there, a tit poppin up here, belly buttons pokin out there..you get what I'm sayin.

This year I decided to go a different route. I've been all the comic book chicks in years past and always wore some kind of corset one colour or another. I wanted to be comfortable this year. I didn't want to try to vamp anything. Just wanted to dress up as a recognizable character that would make people go, Oh I see what you did there.

Velma. It was perfect. Awkward. Giant glasses. Large orange sweater wearing adorable nerd with her own kind of classy appeal.

I'm like a modern day Velma...


It was super easy. Short brown hair wig? Check. Overly large Orange sweater? Check. Found it at Ross Dress for Less the week before. This was gonna be cake. Didn't have to go out and spend a ton on a costume, I already have huge prescription frames and awkward Velma boots. I wouldn't be uncomfortable in the club- other than the fact it was damn hot in that thing. The alcohol drowned out any perception I had of temperature though, so it was alright.

But that's not what this story is about. Moving along...


My girl Kandy was lookin fly as the lady hatter, tasteful in her cute little corset over a tutu and matching jacket over top. We waltz up in there not giving a damn. It was ladies night on Halloween night and the place was bumpin, ladies everywhere, guys were barely a trickle in the crowd.

We saw sexy sailor girls, sexy jungle girls, sexy Alice, Jessica Rabbit, gypsies, and of course just the lingerie ladies. Most of the guys had some sort of gory or funny costume. Then there were the toolboxes that just had on unbuttoned button ups wearing shades and called it a costume.

The night was great. The music was  bumpin, the people jumpin, and toward the end of the night I'd gone up to the bar again for a drink. The entire bar was packed but a very tall very chocolate Superman had turned to notice me and made room for me to step up. I thanked him with a smile and his eyes went large and his mouth started to drop into an open smile.

"VELMA!" He said.
"Haha, yeah that's me. I'm impressed. Most people tonight notice the character but only get about as far as that chick from Scooby Doo."
"Velma where have you been all my life? I've had a crush on you since I was eight."

Keep in mind, I do believe this man is about mid thirties.

I laugh a bit and thank him. I then notice on the front of his costume it says "Superfly"
"Oh I see what's going on!" As I point at his chest.
"You like it? I thought it was pretty good. Let me buy you a drink."

MAHAHAH Me? Really? Fucking Velma?

"Sure." I smiled.
"What you drinkin baby girl?"
"Gin and tonic. Tanquere."
"Gin? You don't mess around. Yes ma'am."
I allow him to buy me the drink and charm me.
"I must be gettin back to my girl. She's on the dance floor." I make a notion to the floor.
"I understand. Thank you for joining me Velma. Velma, Velma Velma mm. The years have been good to you."
I giggle and saunter back to Kandy.
"Where'd you get that?" She eyebrows at me.
I told her what happened. She smiles and says "Ahhhhhh shit girl!"

We continue to dance, and a while later Mister Superfly comes to the dance floor.
"I've been watchin you," he says moving in to dance with me.
I look to Kandy and she shruggs and laughs with out guys we were with.
I allow the man a dance but part of my posse didn't like the way he was handling me so they kept draggin me back to the pack. Eventually the guy got the gist but before making his way back to the bar, he pulled me away one last time.

"This is my room key. 2430. I want you to join me tonight. No pressure. I understand you got a man over there but if he's not yours then come be mine." He was gesturing my little group who was now eyeing me like I was being killed.

I just smiled at the man, he grabbed my arm slightly and I looked back. "Remember the number?" He asked.
"2430" And I walked away.

Of course I didn't use the key but it was a nice souvenir for the evening and a Halloween to remember. Who needs to sneak into a hotel room when you have a man waiting at home for you?

Either way, moral of the story ladies, out of all those pinups in there, all those sexy, tight bodied, flesh bearing women in the club, the nerdy ass, bulky sweater wearing nerd got the room key. Don't sell yourself short. You don't have to look like a harlot to be wanted. Just have to rock whatcha got :)

Buggies and Starburst

I bought a couple VW Beetles a couple months ago. An eggshell coloured '73 and a vibrant sky blue '71 that was just a gutted shell- no insides.

Sooooo I met a guy who knew a guy, and I put the blue fenders and hood on the white beetle. Yeah. He name is Gladys and she looks like a badass. It goes without saying, she gets a lot of looks, sometimes a smile or two, and of course the classic wave-down-and-scream "I LOVE YOUR CAR!"

On a particular day, I left my Starburst in the seat of said car and when I got back in to drive, I really wanted one. They were all melty in their little packages and I was so sad, as would anyone awesome. Driving down the highway by the beach, I did the first thing that came to mind I could think of.

Held the deliciousness out the window to cool off.

Because seriously. Who just waits for Starbursts to cool off? No one can resist the magical taste, especially when you know it's just sittin there in the seat next to you.

As I'm driving and holding out my candies like Lady Liberty of Juicy Flavours, some young hippy lookin dude with his posse of other probably less-than-clean swags looks at me with an expression I can't quite describe.

Unlike the rest of his pals, he stops walking, holds in something that looks like a football stance and holds his hands wide.... but not as wide as his mouth. His expression was excited. Or maybe he peed... came a little? Either way, he goes all Breakfast Club on me and throws his fist into the air and proceeds to shout, "YEAHHH!! BEETLES AND CANDY!! WOOOOH! THROW ME SOME CANDY!"

I was long past him by then, but to the gentleman that screamed that, if I ever see you again, consider yourself pelted with candy. I went out and bought a bag just in case I ever see you again.

Internetless But Still Rockin

I know it's been quite some time since my last post. Being internetless has proved to be inconvenient in more ways than one. But it's been over a year and still I press on.

Anywho, this occasion of blog is dedicated to the family of which this scenario is kinda about. Just kinda.


As most of you know (and to my new readers every day who don't) I moved back to the dirty south.  My mema is here and plus... there ain't no place like the dirty south.

On my weekends from work, as per usual, I go to see my mema. She lives about thirty minutes away in the next city and I always like to make the best of the drive by cranking the music with delicious bass and dashboard dancing like there's no tomorrow.

On the way home from mema's I popped the newest Macklemore album (the shit by the way; this man makes a good name for the rap genre).  Staring at the penis cloud overhead, lipsyncing like nobody's business, I come to a stoplight. This light seemed to go on forever. In the midst of my aggressive dance gestures, I can feel someone to my right staring at me.  I look, and it's an older guy with three kids in the car, ages ranging from probably eleven to six. He has a smile on my face, and starts tapping at his kids telling them to look my way.

I do what any other enjoyable individual would do in said situation- turn it up, roll down the window and start lipsyncing to the children. They were all rather amused. As was the guy in the car to my left. But he's not the inspiration behind my writing. Another story another day.

Either way.

The light turns green, and I smile back at the children as I speed....to the next stoplight. So here we are again, the kids now dancing as well when I notice the small child in the back seat trying to tell me something. I turned down the music for a split second, she yelled to me, "Do the funky chicken!"

I looked at her as a maggot looks at his commanding officer. Yes. Ma'am.

I cranked it, and started wildly doing the funky chicken as best I could. The children were satisfied and the light turned green. I drove off dashboard dancing into the sunset.  A happy fairy tale ever after.

Vegas or New Oreans? That Is The Question

Alright churrins, I finally have time again to write... Let's do a little update with my life eh?

Been working 16 hours a day... bartender in the day, housekeeper at night.
I got the barback position.
Bartender in the day. Barback at night.
I hate the bar I worked for.
No more day bartending.
Barback by night. Life is sweet.



That's pretty much what this blog is about.. all of my awesome adventures of the process that got me to where I am now, and then I kinda want some input on what I should do for the future.

When I moved back to Mississippi, this has been my plan for a very long time- bartending. Whatever it was that I had planned to do, school, other jobs, whatever- my main goal was to be a bartender to support myself.  That and I've always thought as bartenders as the coolest people. Always so chill. So personable. Got swag.

Getting paid to talk to people and get them drunk? Sounds like my kind of job.

But I found out quickly that bartending isn't like it was in the north.. there's a certain amount of skill that people want you to have. To be certified. To be quick yet clean about it. Professional.  I knew there was a school for it, but I waited months to even check it out. I was thinking I had to pay for the school in full. One day I decided I was done waiting. I was getting impatient and wanted things to roll now now now! I drove to the school nearest me - about thirty minutes to the next city.

I walked in and talked to the administer. He walked me through the school, showed me the gaming part of the school with all sorts of gambling tables and also the bartending side of the school.
"You can make a lot more money as a dealer" he told me, ranting on about the money figures.
"That's cool and all, but I just want to bartend."
"You can. We have financial aid programs for doing both."
"That's really great. But all I want to do is bartend."

I found out that day that I don't even have to start paying for my schooling until six months after I graduate. I came in that following week and started The first week in February. Three month class. Five days a week. Five hours a day. Add that on top of a grave shift job, and you have yourself one hell of a messed up schedule.

But I did it. For three months. Always showed up on time for work and school. There was a hiccup once or twice but the point was that I made it. In the beginning the months seemed to drag but as time went on, and now that I am finished, I see that it went by so quickly. 

Immediately I applied for the open barback positions at my casino resort I was already working at. I talked to Human resources, called who I could, even had my instructor at the bartending school call up there. I wanted the job so badly.

Next thing I know, the head calls me up and tells me to come in for an interview. Hells the fuck yeah. When can I do it? Whenever your little heart desires. I went in the next morning, right after work and right before school. I told the instructor I would be late but he was cool about it. I mean. This is what I am going to school for!

I didn't think I would get the job to be honest. Just the way I kinda got looked at. Ohh Thibs is a girl...

"You know what this job is don't you? He asked.
"Yes sir. Barback."
"That's a lot of lifting a night. Lots of running around. Picking up beer cases."
"Yes sir. This is what I want to do. I heard you have to be a barback first before you become a bartender here."
"That's right. Usually we have guys as barbacks..."
"This is what I want to do. I have been in this company for nine months now. I would like to stay in this company, but if you don't want me to have a job here, that's fine. I will go to New Orleans like I planned or maybe even Vegas where the money is. Either way, I'm going to get into this business whether it be here or not."
He leans back. Smiles. Nods his head. "Alright." He says.
"Look," I smirk,"don't let the pretty dress and the nice heels fool you. I did this for the interview process. I am a tough gal. This is what I want to do."
"Thank you for your time. I should be giving you a call sometime this week," He said as we both got up and shook hands.

I really didn't think I got it. I almost wanted to cry.

The interview was at nine that morning.
Class started at ten.
It wasn't even noon before I got the call back, telling me that I was hired.
I was so excited I started to cry.

It was one of those moments in life where you have gotten shit on and shit on for the longest time and when something finally goes your way you can't help but smile.

Everyone I have met at work is cool too. They tell me, "You'll move fast to be a bartender. Some of the ones we have don't even know as much as you and they were only barback for a couple months." That gives me hope.
Some of them told me, "You're the chick? We've never had a chick barback. That's cool. You're the first."  And that also makes me feel empowered. I like doing things that people say I can't do. Most everyone appreciates that feeling and knows what I am talking about..


So here is my question for poll.. After giving it a good year or so at this casino, any suggestions for my next step? I have heard that Vegas is full of hard people but there is a good living to be made. A very good living. I also heard that New Orleans is a good living to be made and is a little more laid back as far as the type of people... I can see myself living in either place and rolling with the punches no matter where I go but I guess I just want a say. What you think?

Until next time my dedicated followers!

India Comes to Amurrica

Alright, so last month I had my very first bartending gig. You'll have to forgive me for being so late on actually writing something about it because I have no internet and getting to the library between school and work proved to be improbable. But back to the point- yes, my very first bartending gig. 700 guests. 5 bartenders. 1 wedding. GO.

First to note- this was a genuine Indian wedding- dot Indian, not feather Indian. It was extravagant and beautiful- traditional dances, the dresses, the million guests, the food; such a sight.

We were to show up at 4:30pm to start set up- the open bar was to start at 6:30. No big deal, plenty of time right? Not when you have no idea where the alcohol is for the shindig and the person in charge is no where to be found until 5:30.

So we scramble to get the four bars set up- having to shovel ice in our little bins and take it from the ice machine to the complete opposite side of the building to where our bars were to be set up. 6:29 comes around and guests are already antsy. We bartenders found out something very quickly that day... those of India are alcoholics man.

Don't get all racial-judemental on me, this damn blog is for comedic true-story purposes. Gonna start going off on me, get the eff off my blog.

Anywhozers, So we're pouring our ounce-to-glass ratios, and the guests are not having it.
"More."
"Make it a double"
"No ice"
"Half the glass full"
and our personal favourite, "I would like Johnnie Walker with a little water." It would be your favourite too if you've ever heard an Indian say that in their accent.

So we're slinging drinks before the ceremony- it was only a one hour happy hour, the ceremony, then the release of the guests again to drink until midnight. God help us all.
I don't mean to make it sound overly atrocious because it wasn't. I mean. Well. We had fun. But I'll be damned if that ever happens again. You know what I mean. Moving on.

When the first hour was ending, the masses all came up slowly but surely, "Just one more please. Just one more."
"No. We are supposed to head you into the ballroom now. We will be open later."
Mean mugs were the general consensus. Not like we cared- this was our job. Still, smiles and all, directing people into the ballroom. A guy comes up from the side of me, "Do you have a glass you can tap on or something? We need these people to head inside."
I smiled, "No, but I'm pretty damn loud. Want me to make an announcement?"
"Oh that would be great."
SLAM SLAM SLAM! My hand on the bar. That got their attention,
"HEY! I need everyone to head into the ballroom so that the ceremony may start. Thank you for your cooperation!"
"You weren't kidding," The guy said as he stood there watching them like cattle, all filtering into the ballroom.

As we were filling up on ice, cutting more limes, and moving the bars inside to our next position, a couple cops come over to us, "I would like a rum and coke," says one of them.
"Sorry sir. Not gonna serve you on duty."
He sat there and waited.
"Really?"
"Really really." Not looking back up to respond, tending to my limes.
That's right, stupid piggy, no special treatment for you.
After getting all situated in our new areas, the announcement was made that the drinking was to commence.

It got to the point where the guests would try to overrun our bartenders, stepping behind the bar for them. Myself and a couple others had to step in with balls of steal and a little force," Sir, we will get to you. There are only 4 of us. We are paid to do this. We are trying." So on and so forth.

I went from the nice ginger bartender to the cutthroat get-your-fucking-drink-and-go bartender.

By the end of the evening, we were all pretty wiped of the demands. Then they started asking for shots, and having a limited bar, you learn quickly to blow shit outta your ass.

"We want eight shots! What can you make into shots?"
"A Hawaiian Bomb." Whatever the fuck that is....
"Ohh! Sounds good! Yeah, Hawaiian Bombs!"
I threw some vodka in a mixing tin with some cranberry and orange juices..(later to remember that when not in shot form, that is an actual drink called a Madras.) now when I say some, I mean I slight splashes. My main goal at this point was to sauce them up so they would stop coming. They kept coming....
Then, as we are putting away our bars, the crowd gets all "I'm-not-sauced-enough" attitudes on us, and start asking for more shots.

"Thirty shots. We need thirty shots," the guy yells over the music.
I look to either side of me at my coworkers. They are all scrambling to clean things, put things away, get it outta there.
"If I make y'all shots, you gotta take em and go. I have limited counter space," I say very firmly.
I shake and strain the first ten. None are budging. "I'm not kidding," I said,"take em. We wanna leave." They finally start going, but the empty shot cups instantly come back on the counter.
"Oh no you don't," I said, "You can throw those away in the trash ten feet to your right."
They looked at me as if I shit on their prized goat.
"Still not kidding." I said, trying to force at least a smirk.
Whilst in the middle of juggling 20 more shots and another drink, some dude comes at me from the side,"I would like a rum and coke."
"Sure sure, but I'm very busy and you'll have to wait a minute sir."
Another guy comes from the side of the first one,"Hey! This is the guy that bought all the alcohol!"
As if that means something to me. "Yeah, cool. Still doesn't make me go any faster," I said very dryly, still half a smirk.
"I'm only kidding," he responds, also trying to force a smile.
"I'm not." I said back.

Finally all the shots out of the way, the buyer was pleased, we were putting up when another guy comes outta no where- "We want wine for the groom and all his friends."
Kandy puts a bottle on the counter for him and continues putting things away.
"You're not going to serve it?" He asks.
"Nope. We're getting out of here. Our time is up." Someone said. We were all just about done with this shenanigans- already cutting it close to the time of closing our bars.

Finally the guy in charge comes over, tells us we did a great job, and thanks us for our patience. We put the alcohol away, found all of our equipment, got paid, and headed for the Hard Rock to mellow down.

Moral of the story children? Sauce them up when it is an open bar, flirt enough, and by the end of the night, you'll always have a decent amount of tips.

Allergic at Lost Lake

Well unlike all my other tites, this one pretty much explains it, so with little introduction, I'll let my story unfurl itself.

I had been waiting a year to go to a place that was always said to me as just a really cool place. No one would describe it to me. No one would tell me what was there. Other than the fact that it was "really awesome", commentary complimentary via friends, I had no idea about it. 

Lost Lake. They always left early in the morning and didn't come home until almost sun down. Being grounded about 90% of my high school carreer was my reason for never having been to such a mysterious place.

Then college came.

One day, my delightful being Alton decided to take me. "It's a long trip." He told me, saying I should grab a snack or something.  Then we were off. It wasn't incredibly early though still some time before noon. The car ride was nice. Smiles and giggles. Some damn hippy music no one's probably ever heard before. Headed to a place I've never been to before. Nothing out of the ordinary for a time being with Alton.

We arrive In a small town I'd only been to a few times before. Everyone I knew referred to it as the 'crater in the ground'. Just a city that is in a giant hole in the middle of nowhere but man can they have 4th of July celebrations...

Across a bridge I've never seen anyone drive on before. Onto a road where the pavement turns copper coloured.
"What?" I asked, smiling with curiosity.
"What?" He smiled, mocking me. "Bet you didn't know about this hidden highway did you?"
I just watched the road. I still can't remember where we took turns, left, right, past a town of population:6, over the tall grasses..
Somehow we got there.

He pulled off the side of the road to a sign that warned NO TRESSPASSING or some other kind of warning. I took a picture of it with my disposable camera. For those of you born in the middle of the damn 90's and younger, that's a camera you take pictures with until you can take no more on the roll, hand it in to someone that develops the pictures, and then you get your paper copy of the pictures within an hour or a day. I know. Old people technology. So weird.

Past the sign it really was the strangest thing to see. I'll tell you the secrets of this 'Lost Lake'. There were rocks. Boulders. Large boulders everywhere on flat ground from what I could see.

"This was a lake once?" I asked.
"You'll see." He smiled, mocking tone. Mocking. Always mocking me. He's my favourite. We walked towards the large boulders. First, sparse, then kinda piled up on some kind of cliff. We neared that cliff and then I understood.

I felt my mouth drop and my smile widen, "What? No way! How? How does that even exist?"

I looked down off the sheer cliff and below, there it was- Lost Lake.  I would say that the surrounding canyon imitated the shape of a football field. But bigger. Much. Much. Bigger.  With a little... well, lake looking body of water in the middle. Definitely not swimmable. I held on to Alton, being afraid of heights, and spit off the cliff. I watched it until it was a spec, and then wondered if it actually ever hit the ground. That's just how monsterous this place was.

"Can we get down there?" I asked him. "Well duh. Come around here."
We went to the far end of the side we were on to where the walls started to curve.  Alton was running around on the way there, hiding here, parkour there; he was always doing things like that.
When he got to where he was taking me, he pointed. Down a crevasse, into the cliff wall itself.

"You're serious?" I just kinda looked at him, grinned, and followed him.
Down. It got cool in the rocks. "It's pretty easy," he said, putting his feet on opposite walls and shimmying down.

"Oh shut up." I pushed him a little, and he laughed, running further ahead.
I have no idea how long we were in that wall for but eventually I saw full blown sunlight again. From there, it was like hiking down a hill, or small mountain like I'd done a million times in the Bear Paw Mountains.

"Smells weird down here." I commented. Not anything horrible that would make you hold your breath. Just something that would make Alton say 'dingy'.

We walked toward the water but not too close- all the ground around it at least two feet in was nothing but mud. Thick deep mud that Alton tested with a stick. The grass was tall everywhere, no one had been hanging around here, that's for sure. 

"What's that black stuff?" I asked. "OH gosh, you gotta come see this!" He bounded over the grass to another area of the water where I had seen the blackness. "You watching?" He asked. "Don't touch it!" I said, but as I really looked at the blackness I realized it was moving. He crouched down low, "Hold my arm," I did, and with the other one, he leaned into the blackness and waved his hand over it. At once, the blackness moved, migrated and went insane.
"Flies?!" I was floored! I had never seen so many flies in my life!! There were so many that you really did have to get close to even see that the blackness wasn't one big mass at all. He swooped his hand a few more times over them, in them around them.
"That's crazy..." I said. Just watching them all go. He jumped out of crouch position, tagged me, and ran off a bit. "So what do you think?"

"Dude, this is awesome. How did you even find out about a place like this?"
"Well, I ..." As he was explaining, I felt something on the back of my arm and I was distracted.

Ladies with long hair- you know how when you shed, that one friggin piece places itself on the back of your arm and is so damn annoying that you want to just rip it off and stomp on it and curse your hair for being long in the first place?

This was not one of those hairs.  I grabbed at the place on the back of my arm thinking it was and -
"OW!" I screamed. I took my hand back quickly, holding a fat ass fucking bee in my hand. I threw it insantly.
"You're kidding me!!" I said.
"What what?" Alton, having no idea what just happened. "I thought it was my hair so I grabbed it. It was a bee dude! Look at my finger!"

See kids. This is why I now have Benadryl on my person at all times. Because you really never know when you're gonna get shanked by something you're allergic to.

"Holy cow, your skin really does that? That quick?" Alton asked, inspecting my finger.
I looked at it, I could see clearly where he stung me, still seeing the stinger planted nicely in my ring finger of my right hand. All around the spot, my finger was already swelling and getting redder by the minute. "I'm allergic, Alton." I said.
"Do you have medicine with you?"
"No."
"Do I need to rush you to the hospital?" He asked frantically. "What do you need?"
"No! I just got here! I've been waiting almost a year to see this place! Do you have any Benadryl in your car?" He shook his head. You could see by the look on his face he felt aweful.
"Well come out, we at least have to get you out of here where there are bees."
I agreed, and followed him again. Up the hill, into the cliff. This time around, though, it felt a million times harder. Not like a "going up is always harder than down" kind of hard, like a, "my body is fatuigued and is going to hate me for this" hard. We got to the top and I was still excited with a child-like wonder of the place. I looked at my finer periodically. Not just the spot on my finger, but the whole finger itself was times a a half what it should have been. It had swollen horribly.

"I can't bend my finger," I told him.
"Keep trying. I dunno." He looked concerned. "Maybe I can take you to the near by town? The gas station should have something."
"No," I insisted.

Stubborn.

I was still climbing around on the rocks, taking pictures of him. He stole the camera and took some of me. We took one together. It was still a fun time, but I could tell  the bee had made my body something angry.

"I'm tired." I said, sitting on a boulder on the edge."I'm just going to lie down for a while."

I wake up, and the sun is already on the opposite side of the sky. Alton is laying next to me, I go to move but feel a numbing pain in my hand. My finger. I remember what happened, and inspect my hand again. To my horror, the irritation had spread from my finger, down into my palm, and was starting to effect the beding of my pinky and middle finger.

"Alton, I have to get back..." I said quietly, shaking him.
His eyes opened immediately,"You're finally awake! Geeze, you just like, passed out. Ready to go?" He asked, getting up off the rock. "How long has it been?" I asked.
"You were out for a really long time. Couple hours? More?" He looked at his watch.
"I still have to get to Belle's house too. Before the movie." I said, remembering my plans with Belle, living twenty minutes out, and the movie Alton and I were to go to with our group of friends.
"You gonna be able to make it?" He asked, poking at my finger. "Haha, that's a fat finger."
I pushed him, "Oh whatever, let's get to the car."
We both laughed about my 'fat finger' on the way back.  I recall falling asleep in the car as well and he woke me when I got to my mum's house. 
I ran in and went straight to the bathroom. "What's going on?" She asked as I flew out of the living room.
Alton walked in the door, "She got stung by a bee." he said.
"Oh, well as long as she takes Benadryl she'll be fine."
"She got stung hours ago. Before noon." He admitted.
"Alton!" I said, popping my head out of the bathroom, bottle in hand
"Ginger!" My mum yelled. "Alton! Why didn't you take her home sooner!"
"Look at her!" he said on the defense.
"Mum it was me, I begged him not to take me home. You'd have to see this place! I just got there!"
I downed the Benadryl a few gulps. "See? Better. But I have to get to Belle's now."
"That's not the best idea. You should wait to see her tomorrow. She lives 30 minutes out."
"I know, but I haven't seen her all summer, and her mom is there too. Haven't seen her since I graduated. I'll see you after our movie tonight." As I was getting my car keys, Alton explained to my mum our plans.
"Please call me when you get there," She asked.
"Sure, sure." And we were both out the door.
"See you at the movie tonight!" I hollered after him as he got in his car.

So I admit, not the smartest thing to drive when you're having an allergic reaction and the medicine is also making you tired.  But I got to Belle's, looking at her new dress."It's versatile, there's like a million ways you can put it on. I'm finding out how to do it." She showed me her dress, her mum was talking to me as I was on the couch. I told them both about the sting and that I was a little tired.

"You can take a nap here if you want," her mom offered, "I'll wake you up when we eat."
"No that's okay. I'll be alright. I'll get plenty of sleep when I'm dead," I winked at her.
"You kids these days. You never sleep. Belle hasn't either! Work yourselves to death." She walked into the kitchen. Belle sits on the couch next to me, puts her feet in my lap. We catch up on school and summer stuff. Start watching the tv when her mom turns it on.

"Girls, its time to eat." Her mom shakes us a little.
"What time is it?" I asked. Not knowing we both fell asleep on the couch.
"Oh, about 8:30. I know it's a late dinner, but I didn't know when you two would wake up."
"Oh no! I have a show to get to by 9:10 tonight!" I said, and jumped off the couch.
"Thanks for having me, but I gotta get outta here! Sorry momma." I hugged her goodbye.
"Want to go to Fresno this friday?" I asked Belle. It's the lake between her house and mine.
"Sure" She yawned awake.
"Okay, see you then!" And I ran out.

Adrenalin was going. I wasn't even tired on the ride home. I hate being late to things. I roll up in my '89 Ford Tempo like it's nobody's business and the crew is waiting outside.
"Ginger!" someone said.
Alton ran up to me. "Show them your fat finger!" He demanded as everyone crowded around. You would swear we were ten years old all over again.

I pushed him, he pushed back , I showed off my fat finger, we went into the movies, and called it a day.

Remember churr'ins, bring your Benadryl.

The Longest 5 Minute Drive

Just a normal night in college for Queer and I. He can't sleep. I can't sleep. What else is there to do in the middle of a cold night in the winter? Drive to Blair's of course, the 24/7 grocery store in our little college town of Wyoming.

"Feel like going to Blair's?" He asked.

I stared at my phone for a moment. 1:13am.

"Yeah, but we have to be quick. I have math in the morning."  No one makes me miss my math class. No one.

"Yeah, I just want to get a quick something to eat."

We get in Bjorn- the name of his Toyota Turcel- and make our way on this five minute adventure. When riding past the parking lof of Blair's, Queer says," I'm not tired. Feel like driving to Lovell with me?" About a good forty-five minute drive.

I look at the clock in his car. "Fuck it. I'm not tired either."
I remember it was a crisp night. I always loved nights like that- not the cold, but the feeling of his super hot heater on my legs, the loudness of his little car as we trucked along on the highway, and the volume of his stereo. Not the best, but I associate that stereo with a lot of good memories. (This being one of them.) Nothing was said between us for that first forty-five minutes. Nothing usually ever is. Just enjoying the presence of each other is always enough.

We pull up to the gas station. "I'm not really hungry anymore. I've never been to the mountains past here," he says,"feel like exploring?"

I look at the time again. I look to him, smile. He turns around and heads in the direction of the mountains. I can always tell when he has something to say. He'll light up a cigarette, roll down the window a crack, and reach to turn down the music.
"You know they've seen UFOs out here. A large number of sightings."
"I believe it. With it being so open and all. No one would want to be in Wyoming except damn aliens."
We chuckled softly,"Yeah," he agreed, "Remember that one time?" And he didn't have to finish his sentence. I remember. I'll always remember.

The further we went up the mountains, the more snow on the ground, naturally. The road went back and forth, back and forth climbing the mountain. We reached the first stone wall looking over the towns below and he pulled off to the side. "I have to pee."

"Me too" I admitted.
We look at each other for a second.
"Can we pee off the side of the mountain?" He asked with a big smile.
"Can we please?!" I asked excitedly.

We hopped out of the car. "Look," I said, and pointed to a few Semi trucks coming up the mountain.
"Guess we better hurry before they come up."
He ran to a rock, stood on top of it.
I ran to a rock with a bush shield. Stood on top of it.

"MY TERRITORY!" He screamed.
I pissed myself laughing.

I mean not myself. But it was easier to pee. Ehh? EHHH? SEE WHAT I DID THERE?!?!
Whatever. On with it.

By the time I was finishing up air-drying, the semi was coming up the way.
We laughed and ran back to the car, marveling at all the little light clusters.
"I think that's Lovell!"
"That's Powell for sure."
Waited for a truck to drive by, then we were off again. Up further into the mountains.

After a rush like that, we usually always put on the Sounds or Monarchy or some other band that gets us pumped for dashboard dancing and impromptu kareoke.

Along the way we stopped at some rest stops, trying to marvel at some of the waterfalls in the moonlight. Finally, we reached a plateau where there was no more going up, but occasionally down. All of a sudden we saw the sign: SHERIDAN 70 MILES.

I looked at him. He looked at me and smiled. I looked at the clock.
"Feel like going to Sheridan?" He asked.
"Eh, we've come this far, let's go."

On we drove. I didn't take caffeine pills like the popper in the driver's seat, so I dozed in and out, feeling the loud hum of the car, listening to Eric Hassle.
We watched the sun rise, smelled the crisp air time and time again as he rolled down his window for a cigarette. Saw the glistening of the dewy grasses patched with globs of untouched snow.

Then we saw it, winding down the side of the mountain, the widely spread town of Sheridan. We explored all over that town. Looking at the residential areas, admiring the old-style houses, each with their own character and clearly well kept by all that inhabited them. We even came to a road that had wild turkeys blocking it.
"Your turket call!! DO YOUR TURKEY CALL!!" Queer told me excitedly.

You see. On a roadtrip with my family to Mississippi years back, my older brother's gal at the time taught me this wonderfully accurate sound. It has been most helpful to me.

I let out my gobble at the turkeys. One of the guys lifted his ass feathers.
"Go get him! MATE WITH HIM!" Queer screamed at me.
I just stared for a moment and with us both laughing hysterically, I called to the turkeys again. We drove slowly toward them, but they ran like a bunch of freaks away from the car and into an alley way we couldn't get to.

"Want to look up haunted places? Like we did on out Spring Break trip?" He was referring to the epic 2 week road trip we had taken that previous year.

He whipped out his phone, still having the website saved from said trip. The website telling us of all the hauntings in Sheridan. We drove around the town for a bit, picked up a quick McD's breakfast, and headed to what we were most curious about in the town- the graveyard. It was a big one, on top of a hill overlooking half of the city. We saw the mark of the Masons on a lot of the head stones. Cj explained to me what it meant and talked about some of the conspiracies.

After an hour or so in the graveyard and spotting deer, and some creeper off in the distant graves, we began our journey through the town to head home.

We headed for the highway and saw another sign that caught our attentions:
SOUTH DAKOTA  180 MILES.
He looked at me and smiled. I looked at him and smiled back. "We just never stop do we?" I asked.
"This is what we do." He said. We both looked forward, turned up Midnight Sun, and kept driving.

MARDI BLOG!!!!

Okay, it's the blog you've all been waiting for. Before I go on talkin about my adventures with Mardi Gras, I'll explain it to those who are so far lost from the concept...


Mardi Gras is... basically the celebration of sin? Bwahah, I mean seriously! Ash Wednesday, as most are aware, is a Catholic thing- the Wednesday that starts the 40 days of Lent- a fasting for Catholics. The Tuesday before is referred to as Fat Tuesday. That's the day where most would get all there sins out there- do their worsts before fasting and giving up certain things for the 40 days. Well, Mardi Gras in the south has been made into this big tradition of parades, cake, sexy music, and lots of other sinful sinful things.

There's more to it than that I guess, but you get the gist.

SO- There are these parades that go on for weeks or whatever. People in the city get together making floats that represent their casinos, bars, organizations, and businesses, and whatever else have you.  Let's go over the wonderful things you can get in a parade. My pardons if I forget anything (to those that even know what I'm talking about)

Beads- the most common. Necklaces that EVERYONE gets!
Specialty beads- these are bawlin. Everone wants them, few get them. From ornament-sized beads, to Jager brand beads, to beads with music notes or sea horses on them, they're keepers!
Moon pie- or King cakes, are little soft cookie cakes with marshmellow in the middle. They've gotten smaller over the years and the ones this year even had a calorie count on them, which if you ask me, defeats their purpose. That whole gluttony thing and what not...
Spear- SPEARS MAN!! BAMBOO SPEARS!! Ones you impale whales with? With the traditional Mardi Gras colours-gold, green, and purple. No. Not damn blue, or pink, or whatever the hell you damn northerners make it out to be. Usually you really gotta stand out in a crowd to get one- like stand on someone's shoulders or flash someone. Fact.
Stuffed Animals- enough said. All kinds. Gotta do special tricks for these ;)
Garter belt/panties- yes. yes they do throw panties. No idea what you gotta do to get em.
paper flowers- you gotta give kisses to get these! usually decent to shabby looking men carrying large boquetttes of them, and you'll know who has the most kisses because women that love these flowers love to wear the lipsticks to put proof on the men they earned it! (like yours truly)
Coins- They make an awesome collection of bragging rights if you can get enough of them! Coloured coins usually in the traditional colours. Sometimes made specifically for businesses.
Cups- my family never had to buy cups for the kitchen until we moved north. Fill your cabinets!
There's a million other little quirky items like bouncy balls, snake whistles, and candies that you can get, but I think I covered the major ones.

Okay, so my first outting of Mardi Gras parades, I took my neighbour and her husband. They're from West Virginia and had never been to a parade. Were they in for a treat! For starters, we went to Gulfport. It was one of the smaller parades, but it didn't disappoint! Mostly we caught beads, some masks, some stuffed animals- just some small ones, nothing we had to get crazy for- and we called it a day.

We rested up until Fat Tuesday and this time it was just me and the little lady. I was super excited, seeing as how this one was to be four blocks from our apartments. Didn't have to worry about parking or anything, just walk there.

We set out at about one because that was when it was scheduled to start. Since we weren't heading toward the beginning of the path the parade takes, I assumed we had plenty of time.  I was right- but we had soooooo much extra time! Got there about ten after one, it was raining, we were freezing, sopping wet, and tired of waiting by the time the parade got to us. It was delayed due to the weather and started when the rain died down. Got to us at about... 3:00pm? Something like that. But proved very quickly to be well worth it!

Crowds of people lined the streets- some in their Mardi colours, some in extravagant ball dresses, others in... well, much like what a sleezy hooker would wear. We went to a corner that was really bare of people. We knew why- it didn't have the shelter from the rain of any business roof. Like I cared about the rain. I knew if I wanted something awesome from the parade, it was best to be alone on the sidewalk anyway. To our left, a family from New York. Our right, some rather large dude in a bikini made for someone who would wear an extra small.
Epic.

When we heard the high school marching band coming around, I whipped out my secret weapon- my sign. On it, in bright bold letters for every word it read:

                   FROM MONTANA! WILL NOT LEAVE WITHOUT A SPEAR!!

Because that was my goal for this year. For years I thought about that damn spear. Such pride with such a piece of .... whatever. I wanted one damnit. I was determined.

My neighbour was a little standoff-ish to the thought of the parades. She's kinda a shy gal, and screaming isn't really her forte. Little did we know, Mardi Gras would soon change this for her...

I'll sum it up, in no chronological order, we got some awesome shit. People loved the sign and if they didn't have a spear to throw at me, they made up for it with something equally as awesome.


You might also want to keep in mind, through this whole process, I did not once flash anyone. Not at all. Which I might say is a miracle.

Not only did I get a spear... I got seven. SEVEN. Three or four stuffed animals, a handful of moonpies, coins for days, five cups, bouncy balls, and beads for days! Beads up the ass! We were the only two on the street that had so man beads we filled our bag, our necks, and people kept throwing them at us! CHUCKING THEM! People on the floats were cheering for us because we were accumulating such a pile! I kissed a few men for roses, but I'd done that even as a child. It was my neighbour who got her flower- cherry popped at this parade.

But I wasn't even the crazy one! I was just holding a sign and screaming louder than ... well, those of you that know me know how loud I get. But her- SHE- was all kinds of fired up! I was impressed!! This little five nothing brunette was racking up all the points! She even got a necklace of the big beads- the BIG ones! You know those traditional round ornaments that go on Christmas trees? The big round shiny ones? Imagine that in Mardi colours as a necklace. YES. She got THOSE big ones!

Not only that, but to get another rose, she hopped over the barricade that keeps in the people to go to a float and kiss a guy. But not just any kiss- no. When that hunk's lips met hers, the crowd cheered as he clung on for some tongue action! 

Then another spear was offered to me- over the barricade I ran! We were getting all kinds of crazy and all anyone that saw could do was smile and applaud.

On one float I actually knew someone- or recognized him anyway. Some hottie that I met while he was staying at my workplace. I was the clean-up crew and he offered to help. Offered me a beer and some small talk. I couldn't take the drink offer, because I was a good worker, but when he was passing by on that float I yelled "You owe me!!" And he threw me some specialty beads with a wink and blew a kiss.

The best part about the whole experience? I threw a big enough hissy fit and screamed, danced, jumped up and down so crazy- I got someone to throw a giraffe at me. Yes. My very own Mardi Gras giraffe. Tell me a story better than that one? Tell me a story more perfect! You can't.

Some other things we got were some feather boas, mug holders, frisbies- lots of little wins. Walking home with all that, I thought I would die! ten pounds of beads on your shoulders plus maybe another thirty or fourty in a giant bag with seven spears?! We had a good Fat tuesday. Nej. We had a fantastic Fat Tuesday.

We dispursed, I passed out, five hours later went to work. So much win. So exhausting.

To end this segment I will say- if only ONCE in your life, it is totally worth going to Mardi Gras. Next year I plan on going to New Orleans, the king town of flashers and kissers. It fell through this year because I didn't know the area to well and my guild ended up not going. Meet y'all next year :)

The Preference of Donuts to Mayonnaise

This last weekend was the last weekend of one of my airmen. See, I live a block away from the airforce base, and airmen get filtered through my house often, and monthly, it would seem. It was a regular weekend- Party on a friday night, recovery and sleep on Saturday, movies that night or more party, and leave to go back to base on Sunday afternoon for curfew.

This weekend, however, made a turn we didn't see coming. Truth be told, we have no idea how it came. Okay maybe we do, but saying we didn't just makes it all mysterious and shit. Whatever. Read.

So it was a Saturday. We'd been watching the movies I rented from Blockbuster that evening because we didn't get a chance to watch them the previous night.  Luckily, we got them all watched before ten, so I thought I might go return them. The suggestion of even moving from the couch was enough to get the other three up- Miss, Skit, and Alaska.

So we set off, Skit driving, Miss in the passenget seat, Alaska and I in the back. Yes. Yes the seating arrangement is important. You will see why.

We dropped off the movies at Blockbuster, and seeing the Whataburger across the street, the men were hungry and went through the drivethru. I don't eat all that lovely meat business so some delicious fries and onion rings were all I wanted.

Now, before I go into this next part, I need all readers to understand- I can't eat fries without fry sauce. What is fry sauce you ask? Well, for my Northerners there's no explanation needed. For all the other non-freakish people of the world, it is a delicious combination of Mayo and Ketchup. I know. I'm not much of a Mayo person myself, but damn. It's so... mmm.

When we get to the drive through the gal asks us if we need any Ketchup or anything for our food.

Back up. I am hyper as hell. I work a grave shift. I haven't slept all day. At this point, I work in a couple hours. I get super bubbly and crazy and giggly when I'm sleep deprived. It's amazing and I do it often. Deal with it.

*FAST FORWARD*
So at the drivethru, I'm already giggling my ass off about.. I dunno, some story I was telling where my mum throws a phonebook at my brother. Hell if I know. I don't even think I got to the end of the story before I was crying of hysteria.

When the gal is passing food through the window, Skit tells her, "It's the meds she's on..." The gal cracks up and that's when she asks if we need condiments. In a very deep man-voice, and very loud, I bellow, "MAYYYOOOONNNNAAIIIIIISEE" The car load loses it and we get some wide-eyed looks from the people inside.

We're driving back to my place, and have to cross a freeway/bridge to get there. There's a stop light we have to wait at before crossing. We're in the right lane, and in the left and a car forward there is a po po. Me and Alaska are still going off about the MAYONNAISE incident, we're loud, the windows are down, the music is bumping. Having just a good time, right? Can't get pulled over for that shit, right?

Wrong. So wrong. We're all wrong. You're wrong.

The light turns green, and not even two minutes later, the jacksquat is behind us, flashing his cherries and berries.

You've got to be kidding me.

"Thanks, Ging" is all Skit has to say. Just so you caught that in the beginning- I'm not even the one driving!! I'm not even in the passenger seat!! Me and Alaska are in the fucking back, but we totally know why we're being pulled over.

Of course, Skit gets asked to step out of the vehicle, seeing as how we're on the freeway and the jacksquat probably doesn't want to get his ass ran off. From the car we hear muffled parts of the conversation. It was totally about the crazy bitch in the back seat yelling, and apparently that's a problem. As per routine, Skits gets asked if he is drunk, gets brethalized, no big deal.

He comes to my door. I open it and step out.

Before you read this, know that I already have a problem with this guy - I've little to no respect for police in the first place, but I can already tell, if I wasn't with a bunch of airmen, I would run my mouth.

I'm praying to Jesus at this point, Lord please don't let me pop off, these airmen need their future...

He takes me off to the side,"What was all that hootin and hollerin I heard from you at the stop light?"
I immediately start smiling- no remorse from this gal, "Mayonnaise."
He looks at me like I'm blitzed out of my mind.
"What? we got some Whataburger in the car with some Mayonnaise, I find that exciting."
"Ma'am, have to been drinking tonight?" I see the cocky scowl on his face.
"Yes sir I have been."

Back up. You must know, it's 10:30, 10:45 at night by this time. I have no idea how long alcohol stays in your system, but the last time I had a drink that day was at 5:00 or 7:00. I said yes because I'm old enough to drink and if he breathalized me, no big deal. Not driving. I'm of age. 

So I just said yes for those purposes. I had a damn Vodka and sprite. A half of one. No way I'm drunk five friggin hours later.

"How much you think you had tonight? Three? Four?" He asks.
"Not even. Like a half."
"Excuse me?"
"Of sprite and Vodka. You should try it sometime. Delicious."
"Date of birth?"
I tell him.
"Got an ID on you?"
"No."
"Well why not?"
"Because I'm not driving?" I look at him like he's a friggin moron. Because he is. We just wanted to return some movies. Get some food. Why the hell would I bring my ID with me for that? It's a hop, skip, and a jump away for titty's sake.
"So how am I supposed to know if you're of age or not?"
Oh lord, girl please hold your tongue...
"Look, you can put my ass in the back of that cop car and haul me to my apartment and I will gladly show you my ID." I just stare him down for a minute. He stares back.
"Where you work?"
"IP." I point to the giant ass building behind him.
"Where you live?"
I rattle off the street, he confirms the apartments and I tell him we're headed there.

He's asking me these personal questions because he asked Skit why I was being all cray-cray and where we were headed. His response to the po po was that I was majorly sleep deprived and hadn't slept that day and had work that evening.

Good man.

He walks away from me- no brethalyzer- and goes to Miss's door; passenger. Takes her aside. Not before being a total creeper and reaching for her knife at her side without even telling her what he was doing.

Skit and I were both about to jump this man. We protect our women.

I watch him question her.
"Ma'am, have you had anything to drink tonight."
"No." she says.
"You sure?"
She squints an eye as if to think, "Yes?" She responds.

Who the fuck asks that? "You sure you haven't been drinking?" Pretty sure you'd know or not. I gave the guy a funny look too.

Blah blah blah, he goes and gets Alaska out of the car- now this part is beautiful.

You must understand Alaska is a straight edge. No alcohol for this cat. Ever. Us other three? On any given weekend, hell yeah. No big deal. I just met Alaska the day before, and even when it's offered to him a million times, he refuses. No pressure. Just doesn't. No big deal.

He asks Alaska to step out of the car. When he does this, he totally kicks his soda all over the floor board. "Sir," he says, " I have an issue with the soda. May I fix it?" He asks, po po snaps, "Make it quick," and Alaska begins shoveling the ice and soda out onto the freeway.

Poor kid is a nervous wreck and I had to chuckle a little at the site of him shoveling the soda out.

He gets to the po po, "You been drinkin tonight sir?"
"No sir." He stands at attention.
"You sure? Confident enough to take a breathalyzer test?"
"Yes sir."
"You know that if you're lying, you can go to jail for this?"
"Yes sir."
Of course, blows 00's and Skit and I exchange looks.

The most sober kid you know acts the most drunk of us all. The irony in it all was precious. I was glad he knocked over the soda. It put a damper on the mood of the po po. It made me smile.

He pretty much just had to excuse us after that. We all got back in the car, exchanging each other's stories of the things the jacksquat asked us. In agreement, that guy was a doucher. The other three caught it but I wasn't even paying attention- apparently a lieutenant of some kind.

Not that it matters a rat's to me. Seriously. In a busy city where everything is loud, vehicles have their systems ballin', and we're not even in city limits for any kind of noise ordinance, who the hell pulls over a car because the back seat passenger keeps repeating MAYONNAISE in a man voice?

Seriously dude. You've been pwnd.

A Different Kind Of Birthday Pt. III

Alright, so you've read about the ups and the awkward loner ginger downs of the week, and that was only the first two days of the arrival of the Gingerman... so I'll not drag this out any further and go ahead and sum up the week.

The next morning (mornin after I drove away after a spastic rush of emotion) everything was fine. No questions asked and the day and week only got better. I made breakfast for two that morning, gettin into that swing of things, and afterwards, I was in the kitchen, doing dishes, when Gingerman came up from behind me, set his plate on the counter, wrapped his arms around me and kissed me on the cheek.
"That was delicious. Thank you."
Lord have mercy on my soul, if there is such a kiss that makes you want to fall to the ground, it's one of those. Whateverthehell that was- more please!

That Thursday was pregame time. Pregame before the pregame. All day drinking. To prepare ourselves for the Friday night that would go down as an awesome birthday.

We went to Chili's, had a couple double rounds of beers and the drinkin never stopped when we got home. A steady pregame buzz. You know.

Nothing in particular to say for that Thursday, just your usual party house good times. All the airmen were back on base and tucked in their beds by ten.  Gingerman and I assumed the couch and telly for some good old fashion dvd watching, and at midnight, he leans over to whisper, "Happy birthday." NAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.

Fuck.

Anywho, Friday mornin, I believe I took my time getting up that mornin... it was so weird to just lay in bed. No work. No schedules. No bills to worry about. Everything was done, my Satan kitty wasn't raining on my parade that morning, and all was well. When the airmen got out at about four that afternoon as they always do, they came over and Skit asks, "Alright sweetheart, where you wanna go to dinner for your birthday?"
"Sushi." hands down. No hesitation. Done.
So we gather up the lot of us- Gingerman, Mister Mister, Skit, Miss, and I head to Samuri.
We ate entirely too much sushi, the men drank overly large beers, and we ladies dined on little fish eggs. Such a small gathering was such a delicious paradise. And we all ordered way too much food.

It was good for the morning when we all had the morning drunkies and were hungry.

So- after Samuri, it was back to my place for the lockdown. Drinking ensued, drinking games ensued, party music ensued, it was just a good time with good company. And like always, we didn't finish any of the drinking games.

We're horrible at that.

At one point in the night, we were all dancing our white people dances (save for Mister Mister of course, chocolate men got dat rhythm) and laughing and having a good time. I remember putting the dishes away after a while, and Gingerman comes into the kitchen to corner again. This time, he turns me around and I'm facing him. He's smiling at me, that little smirk I grew to quite enjoy and expect at close proximities such as this one. Next thing I know, this man has grabbed me by my ass, and before I had any time to object, he has picked me up and put me on the counter.

Ladies and queers everywhere- let me say that again.
This man.
Picked me up.
By my ass.
Placed me.
On counter.
I am not a small lady. I am a veluptuous, well-shaped, full blown woman.
You tell me how many men can do that with ease. You tell me.
Then be jealous.

Other than a surprise visit from an Asian that talked nonstop for four hours, it was a pretty regular night. Woke at crack of dawn, like after every evening of drinking, and made what we call Man's Breakfast.

First rule of Man's Breakfast, you don't talk about Man's Breakfast.

That Saturday and Sunday went about similar.

Wake up. Drank.
Pass out Drank.
Get up. Drank.
Piss it out. Drank.
Eat the Sushi. Drank.

Ah yes, then comes time for Sunday night. The airmen leave as per curfue, and again, Gingerman and I are left in the humble abode with no one else but Bacon. ... bastard cat.

Movies. Dinner. Coffee. I dunno. Just that sinking feeling of someone,whom of which you enjoy the company of, is leaving you in the morning. And you know it.

He showed me more of his New Yorker movies that evening, but eventually he did need his sleep.

That night was very sad. The morning was a little happier- a full breakfast before he left, as per usual.

Then, as all good stories come to an end, I watched him drive off.

BUT-

not before I stood there at my door looking into the sea-green eyes smiling like a tard. He wrapped his big ginger arms around me and I hugged him back and melted there. We pulled away slightly, and he leaned in for a kiss. I let him.

Where is the story at now? Well, he still lives in Florida and I still live in Mississippi, obviously. But he still calls daily and we text all the time. It's a happy ending to the segment.. but I don't believe it is an ending at all.

A Different Kind Of Birthday

It's a Tuesday night when I get the call, "Yo, which one of these places is your's?"

It's him.
"Well look for the Apple sign, take a right immediately after it and follow the sketchy pathway to the last apartment on the left. That's mine."
I'm already blushing, and it's a good thing I was making home made sweet tea because I would have been pacing and ringing my hands if not.
I go outside to my porch/walkway. I live on the second floor, and hang over the balcony, looking in the direction he is to be coming from; phone in hand. "I'm outside right now," I tell him, " I think that's you pulling up."
"I think I see you" He says, nearing.
Like an awkward freak, I go back into my apartment, as not to wait awkwardly. I dash back to my stove to get the boiling water for the tea. My face feels hot. I tone down the giggles.

You see. As much as I hate to admit it, there's this whole other side to the strong bold ginger you know. I'll call this side.... feminine.

I hear a knock at the door.

Oh how I wish you would have just walked in you bastard.

I go to open the door. There he is, standing in the dark with only the dim porch light to illuminate his being, the ginger man.
An awkward stand-and-stare commence on my part, stupidly smiling.
Then the most romantic words one could ever hear out of another's mouth when they meet in person for the first time, "I really have to pee. That was a long trip."
I lower my gaze and go back to my kitchen, face still flush. "That way, to the right," I point into my dark room.
How impolite as to not turn on lights. I froze up! Forgive me!
I'm making tea, stirring in the sugar and pouring the giant vat into my pitcher.
Stir stir stir.
Deep breath.
You're not intimidated by anyone.
This is just another male.
Just another male in your apartment.
Here to party hard for your birthday.




Let's go back - I met Gingerman through an airman -known as Skit in a previous story. They go way back, those two. One night Skit asks, " My buddy in Florida is workin a night shift and needs someone to text him to keep him awake."  Both men are from New York and just happen to meet each other in Florida. So it begun. Wasn't out of the ordinary that I would carry on conversation with a complete stranger. Why not?

We talked for seven weeks over the phone, day in and day out. I had a pretty good idea of who was coming to stay with me when my birthday finally came around.




*FAST FORWARD*
He walks into the kitchen. I take a glance. Over six foot, muscular, face still half-hidden by a hoodie. through it I see freckles, a small mouth, and eyes that do not belong on a redhead.

Think of all the redheads you know- all I've ever met are brown eyed. Then there's me, a bright blue. This jack? I dunno... something deep and turquoise. Like the colour of the sea at dusk, when the sun is covered by clouds, and instead of seeing rays of sun over the surface, all you see is the glow of blue and green waters in all of it's wholeness because for a moment you see it as much more than just water.
So weird.

"You like sweet tea?" I ask. Sweet one-liner, batman.

"Uh, yeah. That's cool. I'm hungry."

"Would you like me to cook, or shall we go somewhere?"

"Whatever you want to do."

I stare at him for a moment with a smirk. I'd love to be polite, but I hate that statement.

"Seriously." I smile at him.

He opens the fridge. Eggs. Spinach. Fish.
"What's open at this time?" He asks. It's about nine or so.. I can't recall the time. In the moment, it was completely irrelevant.
"Waffle House. Ihop."
My face is still red. I don't think I've looked him directly in the eyes since he's arrived.
"Ihop sounds good."

I forgot about the one over the bridge, and we started driving to the most out of the way Ihop in the area. "Is this place in Narnia?" He asks. "I just drove ten hours, and you're taking me another four just to eat?" He smiles at me. My smile hasn't left my face for days. Weeks even.

We get to ihop. He finally takes off his hoodie as we seat.
Ginger.
I get a good look at him in the light. His eyes are even more prominent. But holy fuck- as he takes his hoodie off, all I can think is, Never in my life have I known someone who had more freckles than I did.

We order. Begin talking, at first small talk about the trip, then our joined acquaintance circle of airmen.
To be honest, I really have no idea what was talked about. I probably rambled about nonsensicle things. Giggled incessantly. All I remember is how excited he was to get the chicken fried steak and those pancakes.
He'd been eating healthy for months and this was the first time he completely threw all rules out the window. It was his vacation, why not? That was his logic.

I just remember the way he eyed the pancakes, "Oh, come here sweethaht" he said in his New Yorker accent as he cut a chunk out of his short stack of pancakes and put it to his mouth.
That's all I really remember from that first dinner together. I still replay it in my head like it was the funniest fucking thing I'd ever heard in my life.

We get back in his car and drive away from Narnia. "Can you do me a favour? My friends will never believe me.."
He looks at me for a second, "What's that?"
"Take a picture of our arms and send it to a friend's number... you have so many freckles."
He just started laughing. "You serious?"
"Dead serious."

The reply he got back was, "Holy Cow! Fuck Yeah!"
He started laughing.

We get back to my place, "So what movie are we going to start with?" He asks as we get out of the car, the collection of movies I've never seen in my arms.
In my living room, I look through the stash," I don't think I've ever seen the second Boondock Saints," I say, tossing aside the other movies.

About 20 minutes left of it, I have to get ready to go to work, grave shift and all. (Don't worry, this is the only night I actually had to work when my guest was at my place.)

"Alright, well I'm probably going to bed. Been a long day of driving." He says.
"Yeah, cool. You gonna be fine? Help yourself to whatever. I'll see you in the morning."
He smiles at me for a second, kind of mockingly,"Yeah sweethaht, I'm gonna be sleeping."
"Oh. Right." blush blush blush- run out the door, locking it on my way out.
From that night on and for the next week I'll have a roommate.

Tune in next time to see what happens when I get home!!

Don't Bet On It

Pretty sure these guys are going to hate me for posting it. Pretty sure I don't give a rat's ass, and the adoring on either side is mutual enough that I can get away with it without them being butthurt too much. Of course, every side has two stories... this is just mine. And mine just happens to be the epic side.Note: as in all GingerSpot blogging, the names in the stories are the only things that aren't real.


It's Wednesday and Gingerman's first day of being in Biloxi, having arrived the night before.  It's quite the story as to how I met said ging but- fuck it, not it's not. Met him via phone seven weeks ago through Skit. End of story.

Anywhozers, it's Gingerman's first day of Biloxi and Skit comes off the base to go fishing with his long time friend. Skit arrives at my place at about 1:30pm or 2ish to pick up Gingy.

Skit looks at me, still sittin on the couch in some baller shorts with my hurr in a tizzy.
"You comin'?" He asks.

Before I go any further, try to read Skit and Gingerman's voices with New York accents... because the accent is just the cherry on top to lovely stories to come.

I look up at the both of them, " Yeah? Come fishing with you?"
"Yeah, why not?"
"Give me a sec," as I run into my room, throw on some pants and a hoodie, slip on some shoes, and walk out the door right after them.

We get in the car, Gingy cranks the beats, and they start doing as they do- talkin, bullshitting, whilst I enjoy the backseat with the sub thumping.

Hooters comes into view, and seeing as how none of us had lunch yet, they jump on it.

Fuck. My. Life.
See, a gal like me- you know, one with morals, self respect, and dignity- doesn't like going into a place like Hooters. the last time, and ONLY time I did was in Canada with my bestie Belle. Strawberry daquiris and a fuckton of Loonies and Toonies. Enough said.

So we walk in, and "Welcome to Hooters!", and I already want to kill myself. 

We sit where we want to, being it's a late lunch and no one is around, and our waitress comes up and asks us about drinks. Don't get me wrong, she's a cute gal- and a brunette at that. If she was a blonde I probably would have slit my wrists all over the counter and given up before my birthday had even arrived.

She was pretty chill too. Since it was dead, she had plenty of time to bullshit with her one table. My frown turned upside down instantly when out of the waitress came, "I love your nail polish! It's so bright, where did you get it?", looking at my flourescent yellow nail polish.
Alright. So I'm easy to win over.
"You can get the colour at Hot Topic," I said," but the secret to having it turn out so bold is...." and I told her my secret.
"Oh my gosh! I would have never thought of that! Nice!" A bit more conversating on the nails, she gets the drinks, then the men order. I'm still not eating at said establishment.



So ladies, you ever been the only gal in a group of guys? Well sure, at one point or another, we all have. I don't care how fucking smokin or ugly or gangster you think you are, there is nothing more annoying than being that only girl in the group when the guys start talking about how 'hot' other girls are. Especially other girls around you. Especially your own waitress who you really want to try and like because she is really trying to be nice to you because she sees it in your eyes that you want to cut her.



So when the guys start yapping, as we all will, I go into that whole, "meh" and start phoning away. No one texted you? You text a mass of people until one responds! You KNOW you do! Some of us can shrug it off like it's no big deal. But there is that breaking point where some of us have a bigger dick than our vaginas and are forced to shove them out when we hear one say " I bet I'll get her number by the time we leave."

My ears perk. "Dude. I bet I can get her number before you."

Now, to protect identities even more, I won't tell you which one I'm quarreling with.

"Hey. I'm from New York. I'm cocky and I don't back down."
"Hey. I'm a chick and a charmer and not a creeper. Her and I are gonna become bffs reals fast."

The other guy interjects, " I dunno dude, I think she's got you beat. Girls warm up to other ones kinda like that."

"Ten bucks, let's bet on it," Back to conversation.
"Dude, I won't bet you. I don't want to make this into a competition. But you're going to lose," I said with a smile and a wink.

She brings some beers to the table while the guys start talking to each other again.
"I'm gonna come chill over here with you since we're so dead." She says to me, and sits on the empty stool to my left.
"Yeah, I'm pretty bored too, can' get a word in with this bromance going on across the table here." I said.
"Psh, I see that! It's okay, I'll be your date."

Winning.

That's pretty much how the afternoon goes. We ended up being there a little over a couple hours just hanging out at a Hooters. When she took the plates away one of em says, " Dude. She's gotta come to your party this weekend."
"I'm workin on it," I smiled. Because hey, how often do you meet a broad you actually get along with?

The guys get up and leave the table for a moment, and I cross my fingers that she'll come at the time... and she did. Perfect.

"They left you all alone!" She said.
"Dude I know! Can this day be any more eventful? BLEH."
Blah blah blah, shoot the shit,
"So hey, I heard you sayin you've only lived here about six months. I have too and I really don't have a social life outside of these clowns. Think we can exchange numbers? Because that would be awesome. I'm having a birthday party this weekend and you're totally invited.

"That would be great, yeah! But I can't give out my number, I'll get fired. But I can give you my name and you can Facebook me! Write your number down and I can text you." She said.

"I'll write it in love note form" I smiled, and raised my eyebrows to her.
"Ooh! Yeah do that!"

She goes to attend to her other customer that walked in, and I write on a napkin, in the classiest way I know how:

"Hello my sweets! I've had a fantastic time!
 I know I just met you,
 and this is crazy,
 but I'm having a birthday party this weekend at my place,
 So join us maybe?"

And signed my number and name at the bottom. 
The guys came back just in time to read my love note, and give me a handshake, "Nice. Very nice."

She came back with another round, loved the love letter, and stashed it in her waitress pouch thing.

Don't play the masculinity game with me. My balls grow with anticipation of the next one willing to step up to the plate.

Stay tuned for more stories to come about the birthday week adventure!

NOT a Resolution

Okay, so here are some of the highlights of my past year if anyone is curious as to what Thibs is doing. You all are. I know.  Just one thing from each month that happened, and at the end, I'll throw in some things I hope to accomplish within the next year. I won't reveal too much because I'm slightly superstitious and feel if I tell my goals, they won't come true. BUT some of my goals did come true in 2012 so use this as an encouragement! YOU CAN DO IT!!

2012

January- Went to all the bars in town on my birthday and got schnockered best I could. The catch? The next day was the first day of work after my Winter break. Lucky me.

February- Found out I absolutely could not be in rugby for the semester... it was a sad day for manly gingers everywhere. To counter that, drove to Salt Lake to see a concert with the manfriend and bestie and drove back in time for work the next morning... yes. The same 24- hour period.

March- Went to Bismark, ND with the manfriend.... never again... haha people there are downsy!

April- Midnight hiking under the full moon with friends. Got to the top. Got schwasty, not schnockered, ran back down the mountain... ball-shrinking cold.

May- Giant music bash. Aced 20 page paper. Graduated. Drove to Mississippi, visiting friends in states along the way. What DIDN'T I do in May?

June- Unemployed. Lowest month. But encouraged me to start running, going to the beach and - wait for it- FIND OUT THAT GINGERS CAN TAN! Don't judge me.

July-A ROLLERCOASTER- Have a breakup. Boo. Get an interview at a four diamond hotel and get hired. Yay me. Also find out at the end of the month I dropped 30 pounds. Yay me. Then I had a wreck. Boo.

August- Living with a roommate who I happened to know from Wyoming but her husband was on the Air Force Base in Biloxi. WIN.

September- Roommate leaves for Cali. Friend all the fucking airmen in the world. They took good care of me <3

October- Go trick-or-treating in my twenties? I think YES. As a monster rave girl, the costume that won a contest at work. BAM.

November- Get a Kitten. Learn how to make gumbo and eat it with Mema. Enough said.

December- Went by fast.. Highlight, I finally contacted the bartending school and all systems a go!


OKAY so this next segment is NOT a bunch of NEW YEARS resolutions. Just small goals I like to obtain within a 365-day time frame. I usually wait about a week or so AFTER the new year so people don't confuse them, but I am just so full of things to accomplish I couldn't wait! That and I have no life.
ANYWHO

Complete bartending school, obtain job in said field, rock Mardi Gras, and shake some tah tahs to make some moo lahs... bwahaha I rhymed.

Get second job anyway so I have more money to travel. That's all I want to do. Travel. I want money to see people or to take people places.

There are two jobs I am hoping/wishing/praying/sacrificingsmallanimalstogods for. And I can't tell you as not to jinx it. Just know that no other person in the world could possibly better at the jobs than yours truly.

Get to southern Utah to see my queer. Then take him on a roadtrip.

Oh! Fly to Puerto Rico with my friend! Hopefully in February.

Learn how to fucking sew. Because None of these stores have what I want. I want to make my own fucking styles. Fucking fuck fuck. FUCK.

Use more descriptive words and less use of Fuck.

and uh.... maybe.... just maybe... find a nice man? ^ ^ teehee I know it's dumb but uh. You know. IT'S MY FUCKING LIST!!

wait wait... IT'S MY COTTON-PICKIN LIST!!

OKAY! So now it's time for me to read YOUR lists! Either lists of what you did, what you want to do, longterm goals - i love to hear from my readers!! Print your list out and stick it on a door you walk out of every day!! Keep it on your mind! I wrote down in my notebook EVERY DAY that I was going to get to Mississippi. You know what? Here I am, home at last. Get to it! My blog is open to the public, and and anyone can comment!

Bacon Shaymus and Bigglesworth

Before you read this, know that I am not by any means a cat person. I've no emotional attachement to animals, though I will say from time to time they are enjoyable.  Somehow, I've always befriended cat people... people who LOVE cats. Would die for cats. Would kill a person before killing a cat. It was probably their mindsets alone that seeped into my brain and a month ago spoke from my mouth that I would spontaneously get a kitten.

He's a blonde little ginger baby with green eyes. After much debate on a proper name, it became one he grew into- Bacon Shaymus Thibodeaux.

Yes. I know it's SHAMEUSE but I tend to not spell things correctly on purpose because it's unique and you will LIKE IT!

So Bacon started out as a meek baby... and I don't know if it's because his owner has rubbed off on him or if it's because all kittens are loons... but he's fucking nuts. He gets into things I didn't know could be gotten into.

He likes wires.

And curtains.

And beds you can crawl IN to the frame of.

And likes it when I chase him about the house.

He's fucking nuts. And I got him because I felt lonely. I am no longer lonely, I will have you know. Just busy. With Bacon.

But this story isn't about mister Shaymus. Oh no. It's about his long lost brother, Mister Bigglesworth. 


Three days ago, there was word that a cat got into the housekeeping storage room of the hotel that I work at. Without further detail I said, "I'll catch that cat." Many disbelievers said they'd been trying to catch it for a couple days without luck. Said it was wild and wouldn't come to anyone. Shun the non-believers, Charlie. Shun.

Last night, about 4:30am when I was turning in some paperwork to the downstairs office mid-shift, I decided to hang out in the break room a few minutes. I don't know what posessed me to do this, I never hang out in the break room. But there I was last night. And I heard it. The gurgled meow of a hungry kitty.

I peered out the break room, and caught a glimps of a black paw going down a seperate hallway. One opposite the storage room he'd been hiding- and also a hallway I knew came to a dead end. I snuck after the shadow down the long hallway. It lead to where the bellboys stored their luggage carts, but I knew at this time all doors would be shut.  I reached the end and found nothing.

DUB TEE EFF MATE?

But I heard a rustling from behind me- five old people power chairs stashed in a corner. I saw his eyes gleam at me. "Gotcha." I said smiling at him.

I moved the power chairs one by one, until I was right in front of the one in the corner he was hiding in.  Just then, the manager of Environmental Services walked out of a door from back up the hallway. "Francis!" I called to him.

"The cat! Can you move this chair so I can catch him if he tries to run?"
"Yeah sure! I can't believe it. How did he get all the way over here?"
"He was hungry."

He moved the chair forward and -FLOOOSH-
there goes the BABY!!

Yes the baby! He wasn't much bigger than the little asshole I had at home! He was just black with a white snout and white toes and a fluffy black tail! (My friend Squats might say this was the long lost Bootsie) I held him by his middle and could tell he wasn't going without a fight!

He hissed, scratched, wriggled like a son of a biscuit eater and I held him tightly. It wasn't until I was picking him up off the ground that he managed to squirm free of my grasp!

"NO!" I exclaimed, and took off down the hall after him. FUCK your no running rules.
"You almost had him!" Francis yelled after me.

Not good enough.

I chased him and watched him skid across the shiny floors every scurry of the way. I followed him until I watched him to his hidey-hole. 

There, ladies and gentlemen. Is where I shall catch him tonight.

But here in lies the question... do I try and keep Mister Bigglesworth and tame him to be brothers at mi casa? Or do I let him out the back door? HELP!

Side note - the name wasn't my idea. It was the name one of the housemen gave him when he suggested I could keep the cat and name him something redonkulous.