IF YOU LIKED DANCE-A-HOLIC, YOU'LL LOVE THIS
Got a little easy @ 3:36 p.m.
on 2003-11-23
It's Sunday already? I think I can correctly categorize last week as "One of those weeks." As if the first half wasn't interesting enough, I of course put off doing anything for my unemployment until Thursday and had to run around town getting paperwork turned in. Lord knows I need that measly check.
That night my neighbor had actually talked Joe into going dancing at a country bar.
Joe. Country dancing. I must separate the two because they don't really belong in the same sentence. He knows how to salsa and tango, but not two-step, and readily makes fun of anyone who does.
Yes, this includes me.
I've dated a Korean guy and a Chinese guy before, but they were both very American-ized growing up in the states for the better part of their lives. Joe was born and raised in Texas, just like me, and I am still so surprised at the differences in our experiences.
I was raised in Southeast Texas, in rice fields and crawfish farms, eating gumbo and ettoufe'. It wasn't uncommon for people to speak French, or rather Cajun-French. There were probably less than five Hispanics in my high school graduating class of 150.
Joe was raised in North Texas in a mostly Spanish speaking community, eating the traditional homemade tortillas, rice, and beans at every meal.
But still, I am shocked that the boy doesn't know how to two-step. And even more shocked that he agreed to come with us Thursday night. I think it was the 25-cent mixed drinks that finally broke him.
So we went, had some fun, I got elbowed in the eye by some drunk tall girl...one of the hazards of being short and elbow-height. We had a good laugh at all the cowgirl drama.
What is it about Wranglers that brings out the jealousy in women? I can't tell you how many women were mad at their guys because another girl had asked them to dance. It's not like they were asking to fuck, just a turn on the dance floor!
I don't get it, but then again, I never got jealousy as a concept. You either trust someone, or you don't. If you don't, get out of the freaking relationship. If you do, shut the fuck up, you whining bitches, and let the boy dance.
Friday night was snuggle night with Joe, and NO, you don't get the yummy details. That's for my alone-time fantasies only. Well, I'll give you just three words and you can use your imagination: chocolate body paint.
Last night S wanted me to join her in playing pool, but seeing as I'd already spent my cash on a nice dinner at Chili's, I decided to stay in. A neighbor(I'll refer to him as T)'s younger brother was in town, so they came over and we played Super Mario Bros. 3 for hours on end. Joe finally made it home after work and we started watching Raising Arizona, one of the funniest movies ever! Joe and the little brother were tired, so they went to sleep (not together!) and so T and I walked over to a housewarming party in the building next to us. They had BBQ and keg, so we were set. I had fun sipping the beer and playing Scattagories, while some of the guys were doing kegstands. T walked up to me after about an hour, looking completely smashed, saying he was ready to go home. I advised him to puke in the grass outside his door before walking in.
That obviously didn't happen, because I was talking to his roommate this morning who said there was puke all over his bathroom floor, wall, tub, and some on the carpet in the bedroom. Yep, everywhere but the toilet.
I always feel slightly responsible for him, as he has kinda become a younger brother to me, but goddamn boy. Hit the fucking toilet! He's young, and thinks he's invincible, and is still in the age where bragging about how drunk he got is still cool to him.
I'm glad I'm out of those years. True, I still have self-control issues, and don't always realize when I've passed my limit, but I no longer brag about how many nights in a row I can get trashed.
Which reminds me of Halloween...hehe, I've discovered some more pics that I wish to share.
Here's a good pic of Joe's Neo outfit.
And for all the disbelievers that don't trust I am just as skanktacular as I say I am, here's proof of my night-of-wrong-brother-harrassment.
At the keg, getting freaked on. MEOW! Oh, and that's www.samscratchy.com where I got the pics from. Go check it out.