Friday, June 09, 2006

ThePeach and TheAmazon are Reunited: German Wine and Memory Loss Ensue

My friends have been bugging me to put up a post about our last weekend, but I’ve been stalling because – and this is unusual for me – I was so drunk that my memory of the night is a whole lot of blanks and intermittent random memories that I can’t quite piece together. But, to appease them, I will now attempt to piece together the night based on my (probably inaccurate) memories and the stories TheNurse has told me. Rummy has a memory of steel.

I shall call this night: I Think It Was The Best Night Ever, But I Might be Remembering Scenes From A Movie.

The weekend started with my friend TheAmazon (formerly known as Xena) coming to visit me in my new apartment. TheAmazon and I went to high-school together and were pretty much inseparable for a few years – that is, until we moved to separate cities and hardly saw each other for 5 years. But alas – we reunited. For one shit-storm of a weekend.

TheAmazon showed up Saturday afternoon in a dizzying whirl of perfume, mad cleavage, and loud music. The first thing she did in my new place is set up her music, crank some Shakira, and drive us to the LCBO for some sauce. We decided – poorly – that we should get one huge mothafucka of a bottle of cheap german wine with a name that I can’t remember, but I think sounded like Hochentaller. We got home and cracked it around 6. Then I remembered that I had to do laundry, unless of course I wanted to wear my one remaining clean shirt out that night. Since the shirt in question is a sleeveless, fake rhinestone encrusted, lace-up cow-boy print tshirt that my mom bought me in Arizona (TheNurse, upon helping me move my clothes on moving day: “Ya…maybe that should go in the ‘donate’ pile”), I hurried to the Laundromat. By the time I had to pick up my freshly laundered and dried clothes an hour later, I was smashed. I zig-zagged the entire way there, running through the pouring rain, and then had a 15 minute conversation with the crusty hobo who owns the place. Because apparently German wine makes me social. Who knew?

At some point or another, TheAmazon and I decided that we should probably eat dinner. We also decided that we should get whored up for dinner. Hair freshly straightened, makeup carefully lacquered, cleave gracefully displayed – we headed to a nearby restaurant. I’m sure they knew we were drunk as skunks. Probably when we were ordering and TheAmazon made fun of me and I called her A DIRTY FUCKING POON-TRAP and then we burst out laughing and fell into each other’s arms. Ya, that probably gave us away. Stealth. Stealth.

After dinner, it was back to my place for more of Germany’s best and to await the arrival of TheNurse and TheHussy. Once they arrived (“wow…you guys are drunk” “HAVE SOME GERMAN WINE, YOU DIRTY POONTRAPS!”), we all piled into a cab and sped off to meet WeeOne and Cleavage at WeeOne’s house. Luckily, they had already been drinking for quite a while and were thus prepared for our behaviour.

TheAmazon unscrewed the twist-top off our german wine (classy!!) and we got back down to business. Now, here is where things start to go a little fuzzy, but damnit I’ll do my best! I’m committed to my cause.

Here are the rest of my memories/TheNurse’s memories of the evening:

We started talking about lesbians. Cleavage started getting very enthusiastic. To express said enthusiasm, Cleavage tried to bite my nipple off. I was scared. TheAmazon admitted that she had experienced a lesbian encounter. I was intrigued. Cleavage shivered with joy. Cleavage might be a lesbian. I still love Cleavage. Just not tender lesbian love.

TheAmazon and I finished the Hochentaller.

To express my acceptance of TheAmazon’s past lesbian experiences, I walked over to her and humped her face. WeeOne captured the touching moment on film.

We called a cab to get to the club. They sent a station wagon with a backwards-facing back-seat. We all fought over who got to sit there, and TheNurse and I won. We were filled with joy for the entire 3 minute cab ride. We took pictures.

At the club, Cleavage bought all her drinks with money that she stole out of the tips at the bar. Cleavage might be a klepto. I still love Cleavage. Just not tender klepto love.

TheAmazon and I had made a deal that we would not buy our own drinks that night. To get us started, she started grinding some mens. One of them back-packed me. He did not buy me drinks, but he did sweat all over my back and try to feel me up. TheNurse captured the touching moment on film. Later, TheAmazon disappeared with one of the mens who had been buying her drinks all night, and did not reappear for a good 2 hours. She swears nothing happened. I believe her, mainly because she hearts her boyfriend. But I do wonder what the fuck she did to that mens. Seduced him, killed him, and stole his wallet? Perhaps.

During her absence, a mens started dancing with me. He was wearing a long-sleeved, skin-tight, teal-coloured wool sweater. In a dance bar. He did not sweat on my back. He might have been magical. He put his hand on my boobie. A classy girl, at this point in the night, would have slapped teal-sweater boy and stormed away. I am not classy.

ThePeach: IF YOU’RE GOING TO TRY TO TOUCH MY TITS YOU MIGHT AS WELL BUY ME A FUCKING DRINK!

He did. Then I stormed away. I like using mens.

TheTool, TheNurse’s ex, showed up. Again. I would swear that he follows her, except that UniversityTown has like 3 bars. I do not remember if they fought, but I will assume yes.

WeeOne and I ended up alone on the dance floor at some point. We danced like whores, as usual. Now, I have some strange (and wonderful?) power that attracts black men to me when I go dancing. I don’t get it. I may never get it. I don’t have a booty. I don’t shake my non-booty particularly well. But every time I go out dancing, black guys hit on me. TheAmazon’s friends, who I met once 3 years ago, still refer to me as “that chick that the black guys kept trying to make out with all night”. TheNurse started documenting the occurrences on her camera this year and, one time when we were out and, lo and behold, a black guy came up to me from behind – we both thought he seemed familiar. So she looked through her camera and found a picture of the same guy dancing with me at a different club a few months earlier. Now I’m starting to wonder if I really do attract black men, or if the same black guy keeps hitting on me and I’m too racist to tell the difference. But anyway, if anyone can explain the black-man/peach phenomenon to me, please do so. (ps – I’m not racist. Just ignorant.). Anyway, as WeeOne and I were dancing, a circle of mens starting closing in on us. Because I apparently attract black men, they were mainly black (it was like a moment out of sesame street. How many negroes are trying to back-pack ThePeach? 1 negro, 2 negro, 3 negroes! 3 negroes!). This is odd also because there are probably only 3 black people in all of Universitytown. WeeOne turned to me and whispered: “Ethnics make me nervous”. I laughed. We were backpacked. A good time was had by all.

TheAmazon came back from wherever the fuck she had been. To celebrate, we drank.

Somehow, it became 2:30am. Holy blackout, batman!

Because it was pouring rain, some bitches stole TheNurse’s and TheHussy’s coats. I hate bitches. We ran through the downpour to get our favourite after-bar snack: dirty pooter. By which I mean greasy poutine. Because it is Universitytown, we could not get a cab. Being the princess I am, I refused to walk home in the rain and made us wait in the 24-hour grocery store for half an hour for a cab that never came. TheHussy, TheNurse, and TheAmazon made a run for it. I followed angrily behind. I hate rain. A car full of mens drove by and the following scene occurred:

TheNurse: *shouts* wanna drive us home??
TheAmazon: I’LL SHOW YOU MY TITS!!
Mens-mobile: *slows down*
TheNurse: What, you have to think about it??
TheAmazon: I’LL SHOW YOU MY TITS!!
Mens-mobile: *goes into reverse*
All: sweet.

So, we got into an unknown car full of strange mens. And we weren’t even gang-raped! They drove us home and somehow we started talking about pubic hair:

Random Mens: I like it all shaved off on my women.
TheHussy: I’m sorry, do you shave your ball-sack? Do you shave your shaft? Do you shave your asshole and the space between your ball-sack and your asshole?
Random Mens:…no.
TheHussy: Ya, that’s what I thought.

They dropped us off and TheAmazon ran in front on the car, stood in the headlights, and flashed the mens her tatties. Then we all ran to my house and hid on the porch so that they wouldn’t know which house we had gone into. Well, this was our thinking. In reality we all crouched in front of the door in plain view. And TheAmazon stood up and flashed the mens-mobile as it drove off. Stealth. Stealth.

I don’t know what happened after this but I woke up at 12:30 with a raging headache and a craving for greasy eggs so I took TheAmazon to a diner around the corner from where I live. We looked and felt like total bags of ass. Our 60 year-old waitress looked and sounded like she slept in the gutter, which cheered us up some. On our way out of the restaurant, the waitress sped by us and headed towards the bar (this is 2pm on a Sunday, folks) and shouted at us: YOU LADIES HAD YOUR TEA TIME, NOW I’M GOING FOR SOME BEEEEEER TIME!

It could be me in 40 years.

ThePeach

8 comments:

TheNurse said...

Actually the tool and I didn't fight at the bar. I beat him at his own game. I ignored him totally. except the one or two times that I humped him and possibly his friends.

weeone said...

good work peach!
that was a good recollection of the night... i wrote quotes down somwhere... but... i do'nt know where that piece of paper went.
oh well... the german wine/vodka train will do that to you :)

Billy said...

Did you get your 60 year-old waitress' number? She sounds like a party...

The Peach said...

Dear Billy,

I know I should know who you are. I know we have probably hung out. I know that we have probably gotten drunk together on a few occasions.

Please give me a hint! I'm stoopid!

Billy said...

Dear Peach,

You are right, we have. In fact, I can't recall if we have ever exchanged a sober word in our lives.

This Story should be a good hint.

Billy said...

Specifically the post script...

The Peach said...

I knew it was you. Your pseudonym threw me. That and the fact that you also comment on my blog using another name. You and your multiple blogs/names!

Keep drinking. Keep writing about it.

We are noble people.

Billy said...

I'm shifty... ;)