That's pretty bad huh?
I slipped in here to read a couple of blogs before taking my old, tired ass to bed and one of the ones I popped in to see was The Pissed Kitty's. It brought to mind one of my sorry old memories. Actually not old enough but we won't go into that right now.
This memory comes from around the same time as the "shot on the interstate" episode when I was going as fast as I could in every direction but the right one and was afraid to stop and take stock for fear that I'd fizzle right on the vine.
My baby sis and I decided this one particular evening that we needed a break. Her friend, the catholic who's confessions caused the heart attacks of at least two priests that we know of, was visiting for the weekend and we all went out. My sister invited her boyfriend to come along and he, being the kind, gentle, man that he was, invited 3 of his copter pilot buddies to meet all of us at this little bar at the National Guard Camp in North Little Rock.
Well, we ran into them on the way over to the bar when we stopped to have dinner at this little Mexican place that had excellent beer. I don't quite remember, probably due to the fact that I'd been sippin on several margarita's throughout the afternoon, but I believe that we never got around to actually ordering much food other than appetizers. But, did I say that the beer was excellent??
I know there was a couple of pool tables at the little place at the camp, and a pretty well stocked bar. I know this because one of those copter pilots kept going to the bar and bringing back these little, teeny, tiny, tequila shots. Several times. And I don't believe they ran out of the stuff, at least not to my recollection.
Anyway, this one particular pilot throughout every topic of conversation, would interrupt to ask me, "Are those real"? I'd say, "yep", and the conversation would continue to flow around the table. Finally the little smart-ass slapped the table and said, "Well I don't think they are"! I told him, as politely as a person can through a tequila haze, that they were real and he wouldn't know what real was anyway since he didn't look like he was old enough to know REAL. He kept on and he shouldn't have.
The next thing I remember was standing there with his driver's license in my hand and a cool breeze blowing gently across my chest. I don't think the lad will ever be the same.
I also seem to recall him standing beside my sister's car, after I'd gracefully sashayed my way to it, as he asked me to adopt him and take him home with me.
But I didn't cause I knew sobriety usually comes way too soon.