So, I stopped over at a friend’s house after work to grab a few beers with him. I am not great friends with him and his wife but I have had a few delightful conversations over the course of the past few months and I finally took them up on a long standing invitation. And that is when I learned that some friendships should stay at the place they were formed. At the bar.
Don’t get me wrong, these people are really sweet but I guess there are just people in life that are meant to be friends from a distance. You think I’m a dick, don’t you? Well, just hear me out and then you can be the judge. I am sure there are a number of people in the world that wouldn’t want to come over to my house too. I’m not perfect. Okay, let us begin.
Right when I got there I knew this night was shaping up to be interesting. I wasn’t in the driveway yet and my gut was telling me to just go home. I guess it was from their yard with grass 4 feet high. But like usual I ignore my instinct and went with my retardo-sense. That always proves to be deadly. So I pulled in, barely missing 6 bigwheels, a bike, a pork roasting barbecue barrel thing and what looked to be a chewed up Lazy-Boy recliner. I got out of the car, walked up to their door, rang the doorbell and out jumped my buddy’s wife who gave me a really long and uncomfortable hug. It was clear that they had a six hour drinking head start on me.
I walked into their house and was met by a half a dozen other people, all very drunk. Now that doesn’t bother me but when you are dead sober and the people at the house are the type that will arm wrestle you for your girlfriend, it is strange. On top of that all the guys there played high school football together and now in their 40’s, they still act like they just walked off the homecoming field. I treated that night as a twisted sociology project, trying to use really big words out of context, just to see if someone will correct me.
Well, I began to drink very fast. So fast that I was drawing the attention of the said football team and before I new it we were shotgunning PBR’s. I really thought those days were behind me but it seems that they are not. So, about four beers later I had to pee like no other. I walked into there bathroom and right above the toilet was this.
What the fuck is that? Who buys art like this? I was completely transfixed and could not pee for the life of me. I am in no way a snob art connoisseur because, let’s face it, I collect horror movie posters as art pieces, but come on. Upon closer inspection I also found this.
Why is that frog blowing chunks? There is no theory to explain this. I have never seen a picture that caused me to have a bladder block before. There were four 16oz PBR’s begging to be set free and the pissing boy/frog yarf painting sucked out my will to relieve myself. Then my friend’s wife knocked on the door to make sure I was ok.
What the hell is with that anyway? Are there people who disappear in bathrooms around the country and I am the last to know? Why do people feel the need to knock on the bathroom door to check the status of whoever is in there? Next time I will ask them to come in and give me a back rub. That should keep them from asking anymore questions.
Well, I finally gained composure and finished what I started. I walked out and found my buddy, drunkenly gazing at his neighbor’s boobs and telling her about the new schooling zones that Alpharetta is starting. I walked up to him and inquired where they got that painting. It went like this.
Me- Fred, I have to know…where did you get that painting in the bathroom?
Fred- You like it? (hick-up)
Me- Ho..uh…where would one find something like that?
Fred- HEY NANCY! WILL LIKES YOUR PICTURE IN THE CAN!
Nancy- Oh you do! Our niece painted that for us! Isn’t it cute?
Me- Well, it kept me from peein’.
Nancy- That’s so nice! I’ll tell her that when she comes over again.
I so wanted to tell them fire wouldn’t even touch that but I didn’t have the heart. No, I am caddy but I am not a dick.
So, I drank my limit and went home. It wasn’t a bad night by any means but I prefer them in a neutral setting, without seeing them set up plans to swap partners, being obvious about having coke upstairs or being being asked who I am voting for when I am sure it is the opposite of everyone there and could ignite a fight. No, I like those two at the bar where I can enjoy the company free of vomit frogs. They are good people.