the weekend, vol.2
Friday night was the prom-themed birthday party, and I had a blast. A lot of the people who were there are my oldest friends here in Denver.
I only knew one guy when I moved here in 1999 and he introduced me to all his buds who are still my good friends to this day. I don't get to see them as often as I'd like to (because they're all getting married and procreating and such), but when I do it almost feels like a high school reunion – except I actually like these people and they haven't gotten all depressed and ugly-looking.
I'll post a picture from the party as soon as I get them downloaded.
I thought I looked pretty fucking swanky in my cream-colored dinner jacket and various accoutrements.
The only drawback to the party was that there were a lot of little kids there. Like, a LOT. That bugged me a little since I don't really care much for children. I felt like I had to watch my language, even though they were blasting songs like "Erotic City" and that one slutty Pussycat Girls song – oh wait, I guess that really doesn't differentiate the tune since all their songs are slutty.
So if that won't warp their minds I guess me dropping an F-bomb or two won't either.
I am definitely a little evil, though, because at one point I went downstairs to get my camera and a five or six-year-old was sitting down there watching a movie in her PJs and she was hysterically crying for her mom for no apparent reason (like, I could see no bumps on her head or kidnappers anywhere in sight) and I told her I'd go get her mom, but when I got upstairs her mom was WAY over on the other side of the party with about a thousand people in between us so I just decided to forget it because I was already standing right by the booze. I mean, the kid has got legs right? If she wants her damn mom she should find her herself. Builds character.
Around 11:00 I ran home to change because I was supposed to meet another birthday party at Boyztown – this skeezy male strip club on Broadway. I never found the people I was supposed to meet, but I did drop a few bills just for the hell of it. Strippers rule.
THEN for some reason I still don't quite understand I decided to stop by the Wrangler for a nightcap. At about 1:30 I went to the backroom bathroom to take a leak. And there were two guys on the other side of the trough playing with themselves. Just playing and playing and playing and having a surly, gay old time. One was all burly and had a big moustache and a black cap and some sort of leather strappy-thing over his hairy chest. The other was a bit more normal, run-of-the-mill looking.
I ended up making out with the run-of-the-mill one.
A little sketchy? I know. But it just randomly happened.
However, I was a gentleman and left by myself, even though I could have most certainly gotten laid.
So please don't judge me too harshly for my unintentional bathroom-cruising.
I only knew one guy when I moved here in 1999 and he introduced me to all his buds who are still my good friends to this day. I don't get to see them as often as I'd like to (because they're all getting married and procreating and such), but when I do it almost feels like a high school reunion – except I actually like these people and they haven't gotten all depressed and ugly-looking.
I'll post a picture from the party as soon as I get them downloaded.
I thought I looked pretty fucking swanky in my cream-colored dinner jacket and various accoutrements.
The only drawback to the party was that there were a lot of little kids there. Like, a LOT. That bugged me a little since I don't really care much for children. I felt like I had to watch my language, even though they were blasting songs like "Erotic City" and that one slutty Pussycat Girls song – oh wait, I guess that really doesn't differentiate the tune since all their songs are slutty.
So if that won't warp their minds I guess me dropping an F-bomb or two won't either.
I am definitely a little evil, though, because at one point I went downstairs to get my camera and a five or six-year-old was sitting down there watching a movie in her PJs and she was hysterically crying for her mom for no apparent reason (like, I could see no bumps on her head or kidnappers anywhere in sight) and I told her I'd go get her mom, but when I got upstairs her mom was WAY over on the other side of the party with about a thousand people in between us so I just decided to forget it because I was already standing right by the booze. I mean, the kid has got legs right? If she wants her damn mom she should find her herself. Builds character.
Around 11:00 I ran home to change because I was supposed to meet another birthday party at Boyztown – this skeezy male strip club on Broadway. I never found the people I was supposed to meet, but I did drop a few bills just for the hell of it. Strippers rule.
THEN for some reason I still don't quite understand I decided to stop by the Wrangler for a nightcap. At about 1:30 I went to the backroom bathroom to take a leak. And there were two guys on the other side of the trough playing with themselves. Just playing and playing and playing and having a surly, gay old time. One was all burly and had a big moustache and a black cap and some sort of leather strappy-thing over his hairy chest. The other was a bit more normal, run-of-the-mill looking.
I ended up making out with the run-of-the-mill one.
A little sketchy? I know. But it just randomly happened.
However, I was a gentleman and left by myself, even though I could have most certainly gotten laid.
So please don't judge me too harshly for my unintentional bathroom-cruising.
posted by denverco at 3:31 PM
3 Comments:
That poor little girl. Cheeks will never let you near her children if she hears of this.
The Wrangler. Funny how no one ever plans to GO there, you just 'end up' there. That happens to me as well.
If the strap ran diagonal (from one shoulder to the opposite hip), it's called a "Sam Brown" or "garrason strap". ;^)
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