Did My Pants Text You?

Well, I'm back home after a fantabulous week-long jaunt to the Rockies! I had a lot of fun, discovered yet again that, I should just never drink again, and that I miss my friend there more than I knew. While I've been relaxing by a fire here trying to get myself excited about going back to Mayberry tomorrow, I found myself starting to giggle about our pre-Thanksgiving night on the town.

So, my friend, ATown, and her sister, JLove, took me to this bar that boasts "The Biggest Pre-Thanksgiving Bash in the Country!!" on Wednesday night. Now, I'm not exaggerating when I say that people wait HOURS in the bitter cold to get into this bar on this night. It's fucking crazy! Last time I visited, we were the crazy fucks who waited 4 hours in the cold to get in! However, this year, I had flown into town a couple of days early, and so we got there without having to wait more than 15 minutes. First, I want to say that I think it's stupid and pretentious for bars to make people wait outside in some vain attempt to prove they've got the biggest dick in town. That shit is all over LA and NY, but Denver? Plus, I've never been one to frequent such places anyway. Get a few drinks in me though, and well...let's just say that it was a milder version of my wedding behavior. And, evidently my pants were texting like crazy!

Anywho, the three of us got in, and yours truly headed for the bar. I mean, if I'm going to have to be at a bar/dance club, I'm going to need to drink. I really detest crowds, particularly drunk and handsy ones, as a general rule. I told the girls, "Hey, I'm just going to stick with beer tonight. No need for me to get rowdy." Yeah. Right. So I had a few beers, met some interesting gentlemen who are correctional officers at "the prison" (hell if I know which prison they were referring to), and then had a few more beers. During this time, ATown met a hot engineer (I know! It sounds so much like an oxymoron) who whisked her away for a shot, and JLove and I took it to the dance floor with the prison boys. Or at least that's what I thought! As I shook it to my love, J. Timberlake, with Prison Boy, I looked to my slight right and saw some toothless moron all gangsta-ed out draped all over JLove like a dirty shirt. Now I know that this doesn't seem amusing or otherwise interesting, but JLove is not known for her dirty dancing...at least not to my knowledge. So, G-Money was behind her at first, and she was completely oblivious to his antics (or dry humping...it was a judgment call). But when she turned around, it got SO MUCH BETTER! He started by holding her waist with one arm and then just grinding on her so intensely that I started to wonder if he would start a fire. I swear that I smelled smoke! Then his arm left her waist, and he began to run his fingers through her hair and cup her cheeks (on her face, Dyckerson, you perv!)...all the while still getting the friction on below the waist. I thought I might literally wet my pants by this time because it was so fucking hilarious! As the spectacle continued, G-Money just disappeared from the vicinity of JLove, who starts looking around confusedly. It was like he was never there! I thought that I should've told JLove to check her pants for burn marks. If only I had thought to take pictures! ATown and I continued to laugh and ridicule JLove for days afterwards about her foray into the thug life.

Meanwhile, I had my cell in my pocket, and evidently my pants were texting random people from my address book as I shook my money maker. When I left the dance floor, my pants were buzzing with about 8 different, "Huh?" texts from friends. Plus, my sister texted me the following, "Tired and n bed. Is everything ok?" to which I responded "At bar dancing. Music is fkng gr8! Phone n pocket!" She texted back, "No shit, Sherlock! I just got a voicemail with the entire song, Holla Back on it! I think you've had enough, Blondie, when your pants start joining the party!" Now this information nearly did me in! Prison Boy returned with another Red Bull and vodka (umm, did I mention that somewhere during the course of the evening I broke my beer only policy?), and asked if I wanted to go upstairs for a bite (restaurant was upstairs you gutter minds!). I politely declined...and unfortunately had another couple of drinks before Prison Boy ran into me again, this time with a short, older Korean woman in tow. He gave me this look that said, "Please help me!", as the Korean midget said, "So are you REALLY his ex-wife?" Smoothly I replied, "Of course! We were together what, honey, 5 years? It was an amicable split." I think he kissed me out of deep and sincere gratitude. Then she asked, "Well why did you guys split up?" My reply: "Well, he wanted kids and I'm barren," delivered with a straight face and no emotion. She squeezed my arm with a look of pity and then walked away. Again, I thought I might wet my pants from laughing so hard after she left.

All in all, I had a good time that night...what I can remember of it. The next day, Thanksgiving, I woke up and could barely walk. All that dancing following a day where I was tortured at the local gym added up to my legs being unable to support the rest of my body in any normal fashion! Anywho, I'm thinking Denver looks like it could be a strong contender for the next residence for this Sassy Blonde. Who knows?

*Thanks for a wonderful time, ATown! You gotta come to Dallas next time! XOXO
**I don't recall the cab ride home, and I hope I didn't drunk dial.
***I'm going to confession very soon.