Ghost Blogging (last Friday from a different perspective)

I’ve only allowed guest blogging once before and that was when a German friend of mine sent me a unique perspective on Obama. 

Today I got an email describing last Friday’s shenanigans.  I’ve received permission to share it.  I’ve edited it only for spacing and removing the parts I don’t want my kids to see :).

Friday...

I’d ‘bout talked myself out of going down Friday.  I got home and was seriously considering just resting from the day, babying Gus (my dog), and heading down Saturday morning.  I’m so glad I was peer pressured into hitting the road! 

So I get down there, and we head out to a fantastic bar/pub in Plano called “The Holy Grail”.  Great food, awesome beer selection.  After a couple rounds I’d really buttered up this bartender, or he’d buttered me up; either way, we end up ordering a $30 bottle of beer, one of their “high end” selections (it’s about the size of a small champagne bottle, calm down).  $hit was AMAZING!  And also high on the alcohol content.  Score.  We sit and make jokes about some of the other patrons and have a large ole time.  I’m in such a good mood about everything, I even pick up the check. 

His current “lady friend” arrives after finishing up her Friday night bowling league meeting.  Yes, that’s right, I said she’s in a bowling league.  That being said, she was NOT what I’d pictured when he told me where she was.  She was actually adorable!  Petite little thing with beautifully “Farah Fawcett feathered” auburn hair.  “Lisa” grew up on a potato farm in Idaho so I had an appreciative audience for some “country” humor and insight.  She and I instantly hit it off and were fast friends.  Creepy side notes:  She and I share the exact same birthday, order our margaritas the same, and found ourselves with several of the same mannerisms (ie:  after getting a beer at the concert I noticed we were both wrapping the bottles with napkins the exact same way at the same time...it was a little weird...)

The Holy Grail was a bit crowded, we’d racked up enough of a bill, and there was another bar closer to his house where he felt more like “NORM!” (“Cheers” reference, thankyouverymuch).  Just so happened that Friday is karaoke night.  Oooooohhhh....Mmmmyyyyyyyy....Ggggaaaaawwwwwdddd!!!  What a unique little watering hole it was!!  I knew I was getting drunk and wouldn’t remember enough details later to properly record them so I started texting observations.  Off the top of my head, I remember...

--A tiny little Asian fella starting meekly but ending strong on Tina Turner’s “Rollin’ on a River”...

--Two lesbians belting out various 80’s classic rock, always duets...

--Our hero actually doing one of the best versions of Aerosmith’s “Walk This Way” I’ve ever heard outside my pickup...   ;)

--Chubby old insurance-salesman-looking type holding a cigar and encouraging the entire bar to sing the “bom, bom, bom” parts of “Sweet Caroline”...

--6 foot tall neo-nazi biker dude performing a lovely performance of Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer”...

--The 300lb chick at our table drunkenly informing our hero that he should marry Lisa...

--“Pimp Daddy”....The ONLY black folk in the bar come to sit at our table.  Ring leader of the group was a tall, handsome piece of dark meat in a sharp looking sleeveless sweater over a crisp white long sleeve button down shirt, tie, and white pants (oh, and he kept sunglasses on the whole time too).  He swooned all the ladies in the bar with a beautiful rendition of an old Motown hit (couldn’t tell ya now what it was, just remember that I was impressed at the time).  Pimp Daddy’s baby-momma-cousin’s-wife (or however the h#ll she was introduced to me) was sitting on my left and spent an impressive amount of time convincing me that she doesn’t “normally drink this much”, but she’d had a bad day at work.  Apparently she spends her days collecting rent at some apartment complex and she “don’t care who yo baby-daddy is and how he not pay no child support”....Awesome.

We close down “Daddy Rabbits” and head home.  ‘twas a great night I thought, but little Lisa is not quite done yet.  She spots an expensive brand o tequila at the house and decides we should commemorate our new friendship.  Aye, says I.  By this point the world has become a very dangerous place to be standing, what with all the spinning and rocking it’s doing and all.  I decide to go outside for a smoke and some fresh air (which is ironic if you think about it).  Anyway, I come back in ready to call it a night and Lisa is trying to explain to me the specifics of some lemon liquor that she tried once.  As if by magic, a bottle of the stuff is brought forth from a secret cabinet.  We must take two more shots.  Fortunately everyone finally agrees we’re all sufficiently “cool” and call it a night.  I made it to bed and prayed I could just pass out before the alcohol demanded it be released.  Fortunately, it did not take long for me to slip into a nice comfortable coma.