I awoke this morning with a cone in my room, one of those big orange ones. I had stolen it from the street to impress a girl. This story is about how I met a racist in a bar, stole a cone and kinda got the girl.
It was tuesday, that legendary day of drinking when I decided to go out with my new wingman, Fred. Let me preface this by saying that Dylan is an excellent wingman however he has upset the airplane gods and apparently is never in New York these days. So Fred and I trotted out, he a mixture of mustache and pop culture tattoos, me all dimpled and messy haired. We are quite the pair.
Our first (and eventually our only stop) was The Watering Hole, you of course know my disdain for this place so I didn’t plan on staying for long. Once inside Fred started talking to Bruce, an older guy who loves opera and talks with Fred about it for hours on end. After a discussion that was more akin to my Grandma’s taste we went and said hi to a girl who worked at our favorite bar and was sitting at the end of the bar with a friend. Her and her friend were being hit on by a gross, overweight lothario. We said hey to the girls and suddenly big fat gross man became all defensive and started ranting and raving about how we had ‘broken up then band.’ After five more minutes of huffing and puffing big fat gross guy decided to leave. He leant in slowly to the girls and after realizing he wasn’t going to be able to kiss them he made a beeline for one of their hands, perhaps in an effort to look classy. She immediately retracted her hand with a squeal before big fat gross guy once again got all upset and said ‘It’s not like I’m trying to sniff your fingers!’ It was at that point BFGG turned to me and Fred and gave us a giant bear hug. After releasing us from his iron grip he looked us both in the eye and said ‘we should start a band.’ Here’s the thing, Fred and I have a pact that if we start a band we will call it ‘Crazy Japanese Gameshow Audience’ so after BFGG suggested forming a band we started to tell him about Crazy Japanese Gameshow Audience. He got all excited and said he had a better name for the band, ‘The Racists.’ I wasn’t so keen on that one but before I could object BFGG drunkenly shouted at the top of his voice ‘Lets just call our band The Niggers.’ Silence. Wooooooah. BFGG had just become BFR(racist)GG. Slowly we turned away and he slunk out with all the finesse of an elephant giving birth.
After he left the girls said that their friend Stacey was coming to the bar and when she walked in we should all shout her name really loudly. Banter innit. So she walked in.... and guess what, we all shouted at the top of our voices ‘STACEY!!!’ The little slut lapped it, she loved it. We drank some more, but it seemed the more we drank the more friends walked in and the more we would shout out their names. Now I was drunk so all I remember is shouting ‘BLAH BLAHHHH!!!!’ So myself, Fred, Stacey, Blah Blah and the girls were by now pretty hammered and we all know what happens when I get drunk.... get hungry. And when I get hungry I get Blue 9 Burgers. So I suggested to Stacey (who had been throwing herself at my testicles) that we grab some food. She was up for it, however because it was Greek Easter she couldn’t eat meat or any food from an animal. What! Greek Easter..... Greek fucking Easter. I was gonna miss out on Blue 9 because of Greek Easter! I went to the toilet, gave myself that drunken pep talk in the mirror that all guys do, sung the hook-up song and decided to bite the bullet.
Walking through the street to a supposed killer falafel place on St. Marks Street I tried to suggest that maybe Stacey would enjoy watching me eat a burger. She wouldn’t. Halfway through our discussion about late night snacks I spied a large orange cone on the pavement. I don’t know why I picked it up but I did and before I knew it the cone was now being held by both of us.
It was a good job I picked up the cone because after 30 seconds we both realized nobody wanted to walk the cone all the way to St. Marks. At that point I spied a Falafel stand on the corner of where I live......
Cost of Falafel - $3. Extra Tahini - $1. Paying the $4 and looking like a gentleman..... priceless.
I must warn you if you are a family member and still remember me as the innocent spikey haired dimpled boy you love then don’t read on.... it gets weird.
So we’re back at mine eating falafel and drinking beer, a healthy combination. The cone is neatly positioned next to the TV. Of course we finish the food and drink and move to my room, away from the cone.
We begin kissing and suddenly ‘ol Stacey gets a bit amorous and bites my lip. I think nothing of it (I’m a good kisser, I bring it out in people). After a minute or so she does it again, this time longer and harder. I manage to turn my pained ‘owww’ into an ‘ooooh’ so it sounds as though it didn’t hurt. I stand up to turn the light off and Stacey straight up bites into my stomach. What the fuck! She had drawn blood! I was now in pain and bleeding. She told me that ‘that’s how real New Yorkers kiss.’ I really had no response that. I weighed up my options and decided to keep going, but with the light on. I told her no more biting. After another minute she couldn’t contain herself and bit my neck. Right, that was it. It was all good and well biting above the belt line but what if she got carried away with Rob Junior!? I have future generations to father with that guy. Scarily she told me she wanted to see me on Friday, I’ll be watching Twilight in anticipation.
As for the cone, it’s still here as a reminder that sometimes you bite off more than you can chew.
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