Single Serving Friends

*UPDATE* Chris wrote this hilarious rebuttal on his site. Check it out when you finish reading this.

Guys, all the bad things you've heard about women. Well, they're true. Just like all the crap we hear about you is true. Don't try to lie, I have enough male friends to have a healthy perspective of how low you will actually go. But, in regards to women, yes, we do occasionally use you for free dinners and drinks, we do tell our friends if you suck in bed, and when we meet you one of the first things we do is pair our first name with your last name. Call it hormones or genetics, whatever. It's just ingrained behavior. For all you women shaking your head disagreeing, well respectively *cough*bullshit*cough*. I'm just completely honest about it.

So here's the scoop. Last night all three Mo Fo's, meaning Tracie, Dolores and I (yes it's a horrible nickname I know... but I came up with it!) are actually off. Which hasn't happened in months! So we decide to go out, to party it up. We shop in eachother's closets and I steal/borrow a sweater from Tracie that says "sweet as sugar" on the front and "tough as nails" on the back. We turn up the music in our bathrooms and actually, gasp, put on eye makeup. I have been locked up all week and I intend to get my groove on. You know... what little groove I have. So we all get in the car and head to downtown Campbell where we hit Katie Blooms. My first thought is, what the hell? This place bights. There's no dance floor, the place is so fucking packed that at least three people accidentally grabbed my ass and I couldn't figure out who the hell they were, especially since the majority of people surrounding me were women. Not my scene. I start lobbying for a scenery change and finally we head over to... I think it was the Kartiff Lounge.

All I can say is Techno. Ugh. Wierd tall chicks dancing by themselves that looked totally spazzed out and the token wierdo dancing by himself with massive head flips. Go tealights, go black tables, you rock. I guess. We start scanning the room for good looking guys who might be persuaded to buy us drinks. This is usually an arrangement that everyone enjoys. Within a few seconds I'm surrounded by at least four guys. What do I do though? I target the friggin loser. Within seconds I realize the fool has probably already dranken all of his money tonight. This is not only a sign of no free drinks but more importantly an indicator of a free loading sorry no job having ho. No thank you. He asks for a hug. No. He then procedes to stick his hand up the back of my shirt. WTF? Hey asshole, back off. He gets pushed away, since he's none too steady he sways for a bit back and forth. He then procedes to mark me as his prospective territory. Translation: he blocks all men heading in my direction and I get the nickname Sug. That's ok. I'm designated driver, I was trying to get free drinks for the girls not me. So who cares. They'll now have to fend for themselves.

I've been locked in a cubicle all week. I don't want to dance to techno. I don't like this place. The men are... not prospects. I am climbing the walls. I go outside for a smoke. Drunk guy follows. He asks me where I'm from. I answer. He asks again. This time I say, San Diego. He asks again. WTF? Compton Motherfucka. Finally his face seems to register something. What? No way. Hell fuckin ya. Now step the fuck off or I'll be forced to shank you. Dolores, partner in crime, is laughing. Fuckin Terra says she's from Compton. I look at her. You got a motherfuckin problem with that? Sheet, everybody gotta be up in my business. I have no idea how a person from Compton acts all I have is the faint idea that I need to be one bad mo fo. I roll my shoulders, no problem. Drunk guy looks at me again, you watch too much tv. Fool, don't make me skool you. I am tempted to walk past him and hit him with my shoulder. Instead I look at Dolores and say, I tell you to be one with the wall, instead you get all chatty. Sorry she says and immediately turns her back to drunk guy. Drunk guy is invisible guy as far as I am concerned. So far he has tried to stick his hand up my shirt three times. Stupid khaki pant, loafer wearing cabbage patch dancing idiot. He tells me he can dance all night like a rockstar, I ask if he rides the short yellow bus. I don't feel bad because while he was attempting to molest me three cute guys have spotted me and then spotted him so moved on. In the morning he won't remember this so I WILL have my revenge.