Rumblin and Stumblin
I am a woman in need. In need of a shower, of a bed, of a hot meal and a Parliament Light. As I laid down today to finally take a nap after disappearing for three days when only intending to pick up a pack of smokes, I felt the rain hit my back and thought "life, for one minute could you quit spanking me senseless?"
I think it all started about a week ago when everyone and their goddamned mother decided to move into my house. After a night at Pittsburgh Cafe (where I was fed half off double rum and cokes for hours) and being tackled in a stone parking lot, after attempting to steal Jimmy's motorcycle and instead snagging a bag of his weed, after sending Vince to the store to pick me up cigarettes I laid down in bed to collect my thoughts and - who'm I kidding, pass out. I was awoken to a shower of childrens toys being dumped on my head, and one giant push and play table in my living room. It seems on the walk back my friends found a virtual playground and decided to bring it to me. For a day and a half my living room was filled with blocks, trucks, this awesome little crayon mobile, and an empty thirty pack of Pabst cans. I took a picture to capture the full beauty of my living room, but I'm an idiot and proceeded to format my memory card. Good job captain.
I stayed in for a few nights to clean up the place and get some chores done, but being domesticated never lasts long for me. I knew I was going to see Joe sometime this weekend, but we hadn't made any definitive plans. So as I walked to the store Friday to pick up some cigarettes and a case of beer for the house I wasn't expecting the following events.
Joe called and said that he and a friend Brian were at the Cathedral - would I like to meet them for lunch and a few drinks? I said sure and we drove to Squirrel Hill where I found out we were actually waiting for Brian to meet a connection. He was picking up the tab for lunch and drinks since Joe was setting him up with a contact of his so I didn't hold back in enjoying a few heady drafts and an awesome plate of hummus. It was one o'clock in the afternoon and we figured we'd be out of there by three or four at the latest after which Joe and I were going to head home and get ready to go out that night.
Flash forward to ten o'clock at night in Bridgeville at the Rhythm House where we're still waiting, and still drinking. Brian was pretty irritated at this point but Joe and I were having too much fun on other peoples bill to really care that we had wasted the whole day. The guy they were to meet finally called and we headed to the mall to let the guys take care of their business. Joe and I sat in the car as Brian went to cut his deal and when he came back they sat down to count the money. When it came up five dollars short they became suspicious, opened the bag to find nothing but stacks of papers wrapped up. I was sitting in the backseat of this car, miles away from home, drunker than an Irishman on St. Patty's Day, with two very pissed off fellas shorted out of a few grand. Needless to say, I was reevaluating my life for a moment.
Brian was so angry he dropped us off out in Robinson on his way back to West Virginia. Midnight and we were thirty miles from the city, one bus back to town. So what do we do? Go to Mad Mex for margaritas like any sane individual would.
It was my job to watch the time so that we'd make our ride back to town but somehow I got distracted and next thing I heard was "last call". Joe and I sat at the bus stop in the vain hope that something would drive by, which at two thirty in the morning is absolutely ridiculous. We were almost arrested when a police officer pulled up to see if we needed any help right as I was giving Joe a blowjob. Drunk, tired, and sick of having my clothes taken off in public I bought a hotel room for the night and we managed to get three hours of sleep before checkout time and hotel maids beating our door.
Later that day after going out with his friend for the afternoon we made our way back to his parents house for the dreaded first meeting. I thought this must be lovely, showing up in the condition I'm in and then telling them I'd be spending the night with their son in their home. Surprisingly they loved me though - his mom even offered to take my dry cleaning with her next time since it's so much cheaper than having it done in the city (oh yes, they live waaaaaaay out in the sticks of Western Pennsylvania).
I had called off work to stay with his parents that night, but I had to be there at 9 am Monday. I planned to take the earliest bus back I could catch and just work straight through the day then get some rest. Joe dropped me off in "town" and I stepped onto the big PAT bus. As I asked the overly done up clown of a driver whether or not this was the bus back to Pittsburgh, she didn't even look up from filing her nails before replying "yeah but you can't get on here. You gotta walk up to that shelter on the hill".
Fine, whatever, I grabbed a paper and sat down to wait. Five minutes later the bus goes past me, not stopping, not even slowing down as I sat and watched my ride to work pass by my eyes. An hour and a half later I caught the next one, this time practically throwing myself in front of it, and another hour and a half later I was greeted with the familiar sight of the West End Bridge. Since my phone had died I couldn't call work to let them know I'd be late and was expecting to be fired the second I walked through the door, two hours late.
I'm crazy about him. Against my better judgement I'm sure, but I am totally nuts.
And he's not even a wimp.
I think it all started about a week ago when everyone and their goddamned mother decided to move into my house. After a night at Pittsburgh Cafe (where I was fed half off double rum and cokes for hours) and being tackled in a stone parking lot, after attempting to steal Jimmy's motorcycle and instead snagging a bag of his weed, after sending Vince to the store to pick me up cigarettes I laid down in bed to collect my thoughts and - who'm I kidding, pass out. I was awoken to a shower of childrens toys being dumped on my head, and one giant push and play table in my living room. It seems on the walk back my friends found a virtual playground and decided to bring it to me. For a day and a half my living room was filled with blocks, trucks, this awesome little crayon mobile, and an empty thirty pack of Pabst cans. I took a picture to capture the full beauty of my living room, but I'm an idiot and proceeded to format my memory card. Good job captain.
I stayed in for a few nights to clean up the place and get some chores done, but being domesticated never lasts long for me. I knew I was going to see Joe sometime this weekend, but we hadn't made any definitive plans. So as I walked to the store Friday to pick up some cigarettes and a case of beer for the house I wasn't expecting the following events.
Joe called and said that he and a friend Brian were at the Cathedral - would I like to meet them for lunch and a few drinks? I said sure and we drove to Squirrel Hill where I found out we were actually waiting for Brian to meet a connection. He was picking up the tab for lunch and drinks since Joe was setting him up with a contact of his so I didn't hold back in enjoying a few heady drafts and an awesome plate of hummus. It was one o'clock in the afternoon and we figured we'd be out of there by three or four at the latest after which Joe and I were going to head home and get ready to go out that night.
Flash forward to ten o'clock at night in Bridgeville at the Rhythm House where we're still waiting, and still drinking. Brian was pretty irritated at this point but Joe and I were having too much fun on other peoples bill to really care that we had wasted the whole day. The guy they were to meet finally called and we headed to the mall to let the guys take care of their business. Joe and I sat in the car as Brian went to cut his deal and when he came back they sat down to count the money. When it came up five dollars short they became suspicious, opened the bag to find nothing but stacks of papers wrapped up. I was sitting in the backseat of this car, miles away from home, drunker than an Irishman on St. Patty's Day, with two very pissed off fellas shorted out of a few grand. Needless to say, I was reevaluating my life for a moment.
Brian was so angry he dropped us off out in Robinson on his way back to West Virginia. Midnight and we were thirty miles from the city, one bus back to town. So what do we do? Go to Mad Mex for margaritas like any sane individual would.
It was my job to watch the time so that we'd make our ride back to town but somehow I got distracted and next thing I heard was "last call". Joe and I sat at the bus stop in the vain hope that something would drive by, which at two thirty in the morning is absolutely ridiculous. We were almost arrested when a police officer pulled up to see if we needed any help right as I was giving Joe a blowjob. Drunk, tired, and sick of having my clothes taken off in public I bought a hotel room for the night and we managed to get three hours of sleep before checkout time and hotel maids beating our door.
Later that day after going out with his friend for the afternoon we made our way back to his parents house for the dreaded first meeting. I thought this must be lovely, showing up in the condition I'm in and then telling them I'd be spending the night with their son in their home. Surprisingly they loved me though - his mom even offered to take my dry cleaning with her next time since it's so much cheaper than having it done in the city (oh yes, they live waaaaaaay out in the sticks of Western Pennsylvania).
I had called off work to stay with his parents that night, but I had to be there at 9 am Monday. I planned to take the earliest bus back I could catch and just work straight through the day then get some rest. Joe dropped me off in "town" and I stepped onto the big PAT bus. As I asked the overly done up clown of a driver whether or not this was the bus back to Pittsburgh, she didn't even look up from filing her nails before replying "yeah but you can't get on here. You gotta walk up to that shelter on the hill".
Fine, whatever, I grabbed a paper and sat down to wait. Five minutes later the bus goes past me, not stopping, not even slowing down as I sat and watched my ride to work pass by my eyes. An hour and a half later I caught the next one, this time practically throwing myself in front of it, and another hour and a half later I was greeted with the familiar sight of the West End Bridge. Since my phone had died I couldn't call work to let them know I'd be late and was expecting to be fired the second I walked through the door, two hours late.
I'm crazy about him. Against my better judgement I'm sure, but I am totally nuts.
And he's not even a wimp.