monday night drinking....

i had 2 immediate thoughts this morning when i woke up. before i was even fully awake or even had opened my eyes, actually. thought #1 - i'm going to see the dresden dolls in october!! kick ass!! thought #2 - i made out with elevator guy in the back corner of the bar last night. oh. my. dear. god. shitfuck. said thoughts were followed by some evil person whacking me in the head with a meat cleaver. oh wait, that was just the beer and wine from last night paying their final respects and leaving me with the most excruciating headache ever. seriously, had my head split open and vast amounts of white wine come pouring out, i wouldn't have been surprised.

ok, so, yes. apparently, i'm that skank who makes out with a guy at a bar. ugh. this is what happens when i get no lovin for extended periods of time. i drink too much, decide "eh, he'll do" and proceed to make out. in public. i kind of want to die. so here's the story - 2 guys at the bar last night approached amanda and i and ended up sitting with us in our booth. they work in sales for some elevator company. i don't know. nor do i care. anywho, after a while, dude next to me is like, "hey, come back here for a sec. i want to talk to you..." translation: come to the back corner of the bar where no one can see and i'm going to grope you. so, we walk back there and here's kinda how i remember things....

(after a bit of kissy stuff)
kiss, kiss, grope, grope, smacking hands away, grope, grope

me: ok, you're gonna need to stop. now.

dude: sorry, sorry. i just couldn't help it.

me: (rolling eyes) whatever. i don't even like making out in public, much less being totally groped for the world to see.

self: you tell him girl. he couldn't help it? lame ass.

dude: but no one can see us, it's fine

me: no, it's not fine. we are in a BAR. a BAR is a public place. and, you shouldn't still be trying to grope me.

dude: ok, sorry. can i get your number?

self: no! no! no! do not give him our number!

me: (inner comment to self: don't worry - you'll like this) fine. i'll give you my number if you can tell me my name.

dude: uhhhh.....

me: that's what i thought

self: you are such a bitch! i love it!

dude: wait! it starts with an A!

me: yeah, well, there are lots of names that begin with A. that's not gonna cut it.

dude: amy? no? ok, umm... angelina?

me: do i look like a fucking angelina? clearly you're just not trying.

self: tee hee hee! this is fun.

dude: april? angela? amanda?

me: getting closer. at least you guessed my friend's name. how about this - the first 3 letters are A-N-D

dude: (loooonnngggg pause during which you can almost see his drunk little brain cells struggling) andrea?

me: good job. i'm still not giving you my number.

dude: well, do you know what my name is? i bet you don't!

me: der. your name is bob.

dude: no it's not!

me: it is now.

self: i'm enjoying your drunkenness tonight. keep going.

dude: my name isn't bob!

me: fine, i'll call you otis.

self: hee hee. after the elevator company that he doesn't even work for. nice.

dude: (rolling eyes) can we just make out some more?

me: sorry otis. you kinda ruined the moment with all that groping earlier. i'm going to the restroom and then my friend and i need to go home.

self: oooh snap!

dude: (sighing) fine. you sure i can't just get your number?

me: (walking away with falsely apologetic smile) should have paid more attention and remembered my name.

the moral of the story - boys are DUMB. oh, and don't make out at a bar - it's tacky. i have to go hide my head in shame and take more advil now. damn alcohol.