Saturday, August 14, 2004

Eyes on the floor, still on the floor, always on god's floor

I think I quoted this before. "Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying future is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum." So I'm taking a vacation from my typical Woody Allen neuroticism and self-deprecation. Cause I'm not really all that worried. If something happens or doesn't or goes or comes back, it's fine. My head is 3 months form now anyways. I'm never thinking about what I'm doing, just about what I'm going to do.

When more than 2 people get together from the HV 303 it's an occasion, when you have 4 of 5 (Tank, stop fucking around in Europe and get your ass back here) it's about as monumental as a solar eclipse. Last night The Hyphen, JG, myself and The Almighty Quinn caught the train to the city. Tagging along were two Brazilians guys fresh off the boat. The night began with a comfortable-albeit loud-sports bar where no one was bashful to throw down for a pitcher (wait, did the Hyphen ever buy drinks? You cheap bastard. Get a Job!) and everyone was intent catching up. But really I was having a lot of fun talking to the Brazilians. Because they come from a culture that's waaay more sexually uninhibited. "most nights I go out I kiss at least one girl, maybe 2" one tells me. I explained that I didn't want to kiss any girls tonight because I like one girl. They chuckled. When I told them she was 2000 miles away they hooted and hollered. "You want to marriage her?" one asked. No, I don't think so. I haven't thought about that at all. They grinned. "It will be good, if you sleep with other girls and still you want to make her your wife then it will help," one professed. American girls don't really see it that way, I interjected. "We will have trouble with these american girls I think," the other said...I noded.

I can attest to the open-mindedness of the Brazilian girls too. I remember the night I met one. We were working together for a ritzy catering company a few years back. After a long night of work the whole crew headed to the nearest bar after work. She sat down right next to me. There was nothing coy about it either. We chatted about 2 minutes until she said. "you are very cute. I want to take you back to my room." (we had all been put up in a hotel as part of the gig) I smiled and laughed it off. "why not?" she said. "we are two people, we are young, we are beautiful and we should have some fun. You do not agree?" Uhh, no I do, I just... well I'm just not used to hearing that. "you american's don't know how to have fun. Let me show you." She grabbed my hand and led me out the door, winding past the knowing eyes of at least 8 co-workers. 10 minutes later she was naked, back arched and straddling me in my bed. All I remember is the smell. When I kissed her I could smell something different. Something exotic. Well, maybe I also remember it because I think, to this day, it's still the most times I've ever had sex in one night. And the wildest sex. The kind I feel guilty about in the morning. So I sulked to work the next day with my head down. My tail between my leg. I was a dog who'd just peed on the living room rug.

Wait... Where the hell was I? Six of us, in a bar. Downtown. Pitchers, jello shots etc etc and The Almighty Quinn informs us he has a free pass to some ridiculously overpriced dance club. The HV kids are skeptical but the brazilians want to see some americans shake it. They love the blonde hair. So we went. It was one of those places you don't go unless you're 26 and already driving a BMW. Or unless you're a late-30 something women who wishes she was still 25 and parties like it. I danced a little. but soon I was hating life. The Brazilians were getting their kicks watching the paid dancers grope eachother on stage. I bought my fucking $8 drink. And the way I drank it made sure that everyone around me know how disgruntled I was for paying $8. I could take it. No, I couldn't. I had to get out. Fuck this scene. Fuck any scene. So I left. JG and The Hyphen followed. Now I was pissed. My night was ruined. I had to go home. We caught the train back out of the city, got to the car and headed home.

End of story, right? Wrong. Right as I pulled into the neighborhood I got the call. It was the no-longer-almighty Quinn. The humbled quinn and his international companions had missed the last train. They needed me to come pick them up. Fuck. I wanted to tell them to shove it. Yellow cab. 777-7777. But they had already ruined my night when they drug me to that slut-filled crack house with the wanabe model standing at the door with her 80's hair and her VIP list. . So fuck it. I drove, I picked 'em up, I got in bed at 4:30 and I hated life. But tomorrow is a new day. In fact, tomorrow is a big day. Because tomorrow the comeback kid comes back. You'll see.

Oh, and one more Brazil makeout pic for you too.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hyphen's cheap, but not that cheap; maybe you were too busy oggling girls and trying to find a way out of commitment to notice him buying booze for your slacker drop-out ass.

12:29 AM  

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