Or for those of you who have been rocking this Thursday night:
Tonight I went out with Qwanty. To Rock 'n' Roll karaoke at the Yucca in Tempe.
In all of my, well, let's face it, my zany years of friendship with Qwanty, we have always made it home on our own. Safely.
Tonight we had to call a cab.
I fell down on the job. It was my fault, really. I had a reasonable number of drinks. And then we met a band. Yes, a whole band. Top Knot, Francis and Dreads (also known as "Nick"). These "gentlemen" offered us 2 rounds of "Irish Car Bombs" (Jameson, Baileys, dropped into a glass of Guinness). Um. We tried to be polite, and so we accepted.
That was a mistake.
For the record, Qwanty was on exceptional behavior.
I, however, made multiple physical contacts with Dreads, and spent about 20 minutes outside with Top Knot while he smoked. I think that we talked about the fact that he wrote "prose". (And works at a nursing home.)
Qwanty asked our cab driver (who I think could accurately describe as a "wigger") about his experiences driving late night cab. He told us about some girl who got him to "take off [his] hat and shirt and roll around with her" for a total cab fare of 250 bones. Wow.
Now we are going to bed. Rest assured, fans, Double Trouble is alive and well. Our thirties, graduate school, children and everything. Some things never change.
1 comment:
It should also be noted, "for the record", that while you and the merry band were smoking and touching and talking nursing homes and such, I didn't drink my second car bomb and asked the bartender to dispose of it, and then asked that if they attempted to buy us anymore, she act like she can't count and not bring ours. Wow. What have I become?
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