I'm sitting at home yesterday, mulling about and thinking about spitting on Ayn Rand's grave for her hypocritical ways and then decided "Hmmm, I might decide to possibly be slightly social today." In short, I call a friend of mine. This guy is going to be moving on Thursday so I figured I might as well hang out with him as much as possible before the guy leaves.
The conversation pretty much goes as follows:
ME: I'm bored. You should amuse me. GO!
PAT: K. Hey, I'm going to a Rangers game tonight. I've got an extra ticket because the girl dumped me for her shower head. Wanna come?
ME: Sure thing. Free game, possiblity of not being tackled by girls, maybe a mooched meal. Why not?
PAT: I'll come to pick you up at 4:30 so I can own your soul at Halo.
ME: I hate you.
PAT: I know.
ME: Be prompt, lovey.
PAT: I hate you.
ME: I know.
So the rich bastard shows up at my house in his beautiful Lexus with leather interior and 6 CD changer and drives me over to his extravagently furnished and clean mansion of a house. We play Halo in his closet of a room for about 2 hours. Then his honorary sister came over and sat on my lap for a half hour while also owning my ass at Halo (she is too damn cool for him).
We then go to his neighbor's house and the "sister" leaves to go back home. I'm greeted be British people and cocktail shrimp. This is going to be one hell of a night. Everyone is pretty spiffy and I'm here in my shorts and t-shirt thinking "I underdressed for a baseball game?" Wine is poured, laughs are made, and a limo pulls up in front of the house.
"Oh, didn't I tell you? We have box seats and a limo and Jim Sunburg (He's a close family friend) waiting for us." The bastard, like I said, is rich. I hop into the limo, down another glass of Chardonay in the back seat while toying with the radio and what not.
We get to the box suite and I get a can of beer handed to me. I turn it down as I have preferred wine to beer. A glass of wine is poured for me. I drink it, wondering what these people have put in it and hoping to God that they're not going to rape me when I'm drunk off my ass.
Jim Sunburg walks in and shakes my hand and starts blabbering on about this and that, complaining about how unsecure our nation is and what not. I am, meanwhile, providing him with examples of a more Libertarian approach to public safety (which is entirely privatized). He's pretty impressed. He takes me backstage, along with my buddy, to check out the numerous kegs, press conference area, beverage pumps, and prodution truck.
We come back, stuff our faces with free food and drink in the air conditioned box and watch as our team gets slaughtered by the Athletics. I have another glass of wine and eat a small salad and am pleased with myself until we leave. Then I HAVE to take the limo back to his place. Add another glass of wine for the trip.
Guess who's waiting for me there? Courtnie, the guy's "sister." I get a peck on the cheek and a ride home from that cutie before I finally stumble in for bed at around midnight.
Remember that essay I wrote a while back? "Why our Friends Kick Ass (Most of the Time)?" Yeah, well, I figured out why mine kick ass. What about you?
Q
The conversation pretty much goes as follows:
ME: I'm bored. You should amuse me. GO!
PAT: K. Hey, I'm going to a Rangers game tonight. I've got an extra ticket because the girl dumped me for her shower head. Wanna come?
ME: Sure thing. Free game, possiblity of not being tackled by girls, maybe a mooched meal. Why not?
PAT: I'll come to pick you up at 4:30 so I can own your soul at Halo.
ME: I hate you.
PAT: I know.
ME: Be prompt, lovey.
PAT: I hate you.
ME: I know.
So the rich bastard shows up at my house in his beautiful Lexus with leather interior and 6 CD changer and drives me over to his extravagently furnished and clean mansion of a house. We play Halo in his closet of a room for about 2 hours. Then his honorary sister came over and sat on my lap for a half hour while also owning my ass at Halo (she is too damn cool for him).
We then go to his neighbor's house and the "sister" leaves to go back home. I'm greeted be British people and cocktail shrimp. This is going to be one hell of a night. Everyone is pretty spiffy and I'm here in my shorts and t-shirt thinking "I underdressed for a baseball game?" Wine is poured, laughs are made, and a limo pulls up in front of the house.
"Oh, didn't I tell you? We have box seats and a limo and Jim Sunburg (He's a close family friend) waiting for us." The bastard, like I said, is rich. I hop into the limo, down another glass of Chardonay in the back seat while toying with the radio and what not.
We get to the box suite and I get a can of beer handed to me. I turn it down as I have preferred wine to beer. A glass of wine is poured for me. I drink it, wondering what these people have put in it and hoping to God that they're not going to rape me when I'm drunk off my ass.
Jim Sunburg walks in and shakes my hand and starts blabbering on about this and that, complaining about how unsecure our nation is and what not. I am, meanwhile, providing him with examples of a more Libertarian approach to public safety (which is entirely privatized). He's pretty impressed. He takes me backstage, along with my buddy, to check out the numerous kegs, press conference area, beverage pumps, and prodution truck.
We come back, stuff our faces with free food and drink in the air conditioned box and watch as our team gets slaughtered by the Athletics. I have another glass of wine and eat a small salad and am pleased with myself until we leave. Then I HAVE to take the limo back to his place. Add another glass of wine for the trip.
Guess who's waiting for me there? Courtnie, the guy's "sister." I get a peck on the cheek and a ride home from that cutie before I finally stumble in for bed at around midnight.
Remember that essay I wrote a while back? "Why our Friends Kick Ass (Most of the Time)?" Yeah, well, I figured out why mine kick ass. What about you?
Q
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