Thursday, October 6, 2011

Nurse the Hate: Hate The Facebook

There was a friend of mine that went to a house party. He didn’t drive, as he could be counted on to always (and I mean always) drink to excess. He used to drive to parties, but after he wrapped his Camaro around a tree, he had someone else drive. He was pragmatic in that respect.

At this particular party there was the usual crowd. The “usual crowd” was probably a lot like most people’s “usual crowds”. There was the heavy pot smoker guy in the weird cap with the strange leather satchel hung around his neck. I always wonder what is in that little leather sack. Magic crystals? Magic beans? I know it is something magic, I just could never get to the bottom of what it might be. He was a guy that had records by bands no one else listened to like Hawkwind, Emerson Lake and Palmer, and Moby Grape.

There were the two brothers that drank astounding amounts of alcohol to no apparent effect. “Dude, the Kraus Brothers drank three cases of Utica Club on their own on the drive over!” Riding in the back seat was their buddy who took anything in search of a buzz. In this case, it was a guy named Les that told me he ate the insides of a Vick’s Inhaler. “Man, you trip really hard. The one bummer is that you throw up for 14 hours beforehand.” He had the habit of swiping his Mom’s heart medication and combining it with cough syrup, children’s aspirin, and Aqua Velva. He was a guy that missed 4 days of school when he took something called a "Nine Way Unicorn".

The women’s auxiliary was there too. The two chain-smoking girls with the heavy eye makeup that spoke exclusively to themselves whispered in conspiratorial tones in the corner. Everyone knew their names, but not for sure which was Lisa and which was Nancy. They were friends with the very pretty delicate girl that found herself in this house party of degenerates probably due to the dumb luck of being placed in the wrong Brownie Tribe 12 years earlier. Had she lived in another neighborhood, she'd probably be playing squash at Yale instead of smoking weed from a Pepsi can. There was also Tammy, the heavy girl that compensated for her lack of physical attraction by blowing most of the other guys I knew in the zip code. She was generally VERY popular from 11p-2a on most Friday and Saturday nights, and much less so in the harsh light of morning.

My friend zeroed in on Big Game. He zeroed in Lori. She was the ring leader. She was a woman that found a home in this crowd by being generally acknowledged to be the smartest in the room, but suffered from low self-esteem. This usually led her to be involved in sexually awkward situations with young men she didn’t know very well in stranger’s spare bedrooms. This was the case at this particular house party.

My friend had somehow convinced Lori it was a good idea to go upstairs and “talk”. Within a few minutes, he had removed Lori’s sweater and jeans, and had begun the time-honored tradition of bargaining for further sexual advances. As I recall, he told me he went with the somehow effective “just the tip” strategy. I know almost anyone reading this has either used or fallen prey to the “just the tip” technique. To review, this is when a man suggests he inserts “just the tip” of his penis into the vagina, therefore reducing the significance and potential negative fallout of this sexual congress. As it is “just the tip”, it is almost not worth mentioning,. “Let’s see if we like it, and then maybe we can try it.” This always, and I will hold to “always”, results in full sexual intercourse.

As expected, my friend was involved in casual thrusting into Lori after his successful “just the tip” gambit. What was unexpected was the Kraus Brothers announcing they knew of a party and wanted to leave immediately as this party was now dry. They could drink a lot of beer those boys… They dispatched the driver to alert my friend they were leaving and if he wanted a ride, he better get out of the stranger’s bedroom and get downstairs. Bang! Bang! Bang! “Dude! We’re bailing! You want a ride, you better get your ass out here!”

The word I heard to describe Lori afterward was “disappointed” when she realized that my friend had pulled his penis out of her, and threw his pants on with a “Gotta go!” and was, in fact, leaving prior to “finishing”. Very socially awkward and probably a blow to a young lady’s confidence. Certainly not good for a young man’s reputation with the ladies either.

Through the wonder of The Facebook I saw a picture of Lori today. She was sitting next to her well scrubbed children, smiling a full healthy smile. Her chunky face showed a life of weekend cookouts, lunchroom birthday cakes, and Blooming Onion appetizers. She looked like Everybody Else. Yet all I could think about was when my buddy pulled his wiener out of her because he needed a ride. Helluva thing a good memory.


At October 9, 2011 at 7:37:00 AM EDT , Blogger Walter Zoomie said...

From what I understand..Nothing's more embarrassing than a Jack Daniels fueled Midwestern winter house party coitus interruptus in the spare bedroom on top of all the guests' cold weather coats while the girl you took to the party is in the living room wondering where the fuck you are.

Not one of life's finer moments, but unforgettable.

I bet she's on Facebook too.

At October 12, 2011 at 7:03:00 PM EDT , Blogger Cannon said...

"Nine Way Unicorn" There is a nub of a song in there. It could tell the tale of said usual suspect and the journey to the center of their mind only to suffer the soul shattering disapointments of the light of day. The stories of loss and glory. The overturned car, the fire at the KFC, the missing toe, and the ruined credit rating. All for the measly $20 that bought the "Nine Way Unicorn". Jeez,this thing practicaly writes itself.


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