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Pajama party

Saturday night, I meet up with everyone fairly late at Stan's Blue Note in Greenville. We're sitting around, drinking some beer. Donut is there. He's been flying solo for a while now. After a while, a woman sits down at the bar by herself.

Before long, we all have noticed that she is frequently looking towards our table. At whom? Possibly Donut, possibly Zero. Either way, Ninsi takes it upon herself to invite the woman to our table. That was a mistake.

She was one of those people that looks better the further away they are. Not that there was anything especially wrong with her, she just gave the impression of having been ridden hard and put up wet. She looked a lot older up close as well. And she was drunk. And mostly incomprehensible. But the damage was done. She was at our table.

Eventually, through musical chair finagling, Donut was sitting next to her. And the bar was about to close, so most of us left. Most of us being everyone except Donut, and his new friend. The rest of us went to Cafe Brazil and just prayed that he would use protection.

While we were at the cafe, waiting to be seated, talking about Donut and what would be a sad conquest, he burst through the door. Triumphant - not in conquest, but rather in having chosen the better part of valor and run away.

He had seriously thought about it, but she was just to crazy for him. And couldn't remember his name. And he almost couldn't make it past walking her to her car. She was driving an SUV. And had parked in a handicapp spot by the handicapp ramp. Moreseo, she had driven up partially onto the ramp, going so far as to actually jump the front of the car onto the curb and stop a mere foot from actually hitting the building.

Poor Donut had to make the decision of wether to tell the nearby cops she was obviously too drunk to drive, or just walk away. Again, the better part of valor, people. Although I'm not sure I would have thought less of him if had had slept with her, I do somehow think a little more of him because he didnt. She was just messed up.

Comments (1)

I still refuse to take the blame for it. We're at a table with as of yet 4 unmarried men (mind you 2 were spoken for), one of whom had just confessed to being at a point of desperation - with an unattached lady sitting at a bar obviously wanting to be picked up. Excuse me for being the only one with the cajones enough to go talk to her. And I do think my pick up technique was quite inspirational!
At least I can say that I picked someone up on the night that would have been my bachelorette party.

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This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on March 27, 2006 3:42 PM.

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