Last nigth I was out with two of my girls.
It was one of those nights where you start out not sure how many you’re gonna be, if you’ll stay in and drink red wine or end up going out.
We started at my place. My best friend’s brother came over, and we pulled out the absinthe to mess a bit with him since he hadn’t tried it before, pouring us all a small shot of it in a tumbler. I knew the taste. Best friend knew the taste. Best friend’s brother … did … not. If you have not tried it, I can tell you it’s like breathing fire. You can almost see the bearded lady, the lions and the circus tent, when you inhale that green, vile stuff. I knew this. He did not. So he throws his neck back … and his eyes kinda goes like this: O.O, clearly surprised of the potency in it. And then made some … strange … noises. At that point I knew we weren’t gonna stay in.
The thing about absinthe is, that it takes a while for the flames to spread. Even though you down it, the flames start by scorching your tongue and then sloooooowly spreads it way down your throat, until, after a few minutes, it has reached the pit of your stomach. It is -scary- stuff.
Anyway – yes, I always did talk too much – we got a cab, and went to this café-bar-live-music kinda place. Is my favourite here, is awesome place. Very down to earth, still classy, mixed age-wise.
So we sit down, her brother buys a bottle and as the evening pass… My friend and I decide it’s a good idea to revive our old tradition of doing shots off the shoulder. Balancing it on top of the shoulder, tip it towards yourself with the tip of your tongue down the glass, wrap lips around the edge of the glass, and then throw the neck back. It’s one of those things that are a brilliant idea when tipsy … not so brilliant the next day. Or when sober in general. Ahem…
Anyhoo, we have a blast and it’s just that kind of night where everything falls into place.
Then … this … complete idiot walks in. He has been in a reality tv-show here, and everyone from the age of 20 and up, with an IQ above room temperature (we’re talking Celcius here, for the Fahrenheit’ers reading), thinks he’s a complete jackass. He thinks he’s aaaaall that, of course. I pointed him out for the girls.
So my friend, M, this tiny little blonde with nerves of steel, looks at me and goes; ‘Oh please, D, can I go harass him?’ I was -all- for it.
So she gets up. Walks towards him, like a bloody lioness closing in on a prey. Slowly, chin tilted down just a tiny bit, looking smoldering at him. She has his attention, points at him, then makes these over the top come-here moves with her index finger. Just totally overacting it, mocking the shit out of him. Me and my best friend were still sitting in our couch, just watching in disbelief and laughing.
She walks over to his table, where there were a chair free, with the back towards her. She puts her hands on the back of the chair, does this strippermove where she gets quickly down to the floor, and she sloooowly gets back up, and at this point, me and best friend were in hysterics. I was laughing so hard, I was crying. Afterwards she told us, she had purred his nickname at him, that he gained from the reality show. Whether it was him being aware she was mocking him, for him not to fall for her charade, or him actually getting so much 16-yr old pussy from being a ‘celebrity’, I don’t know. I fear the latter.
But oh yes… Good times. -Good- times. So worth the headache today.
The story from the club we went to afterwards, where my best friend, inbetween singing along and dancing at the bar with me, yelled at me; ‘D…? Can I be selfish? … I -love- that you’re not married anymore!’, her eyes twinkling, me then kissing her, I’ll save for another rainy day.
Happy Easter, out there, behind your screens!