Deal-does and Dee-ks

So... I�m at House of Blues the other night... and I suddenly felt like I was in the middle of a scene from the movie �Can�t Hardly Wait�...

I guess I should explain.

So... there�s this character in the movie who is an exchange student... and all of his fellow classmates are teaching him to speak English... and of course... the phrases they�re teaching him are... like... all completely... um... dirty.

�Vood you like... to touch... my penis?�

But... the best part is... the kid has absolutely no idea what he�s saying.

Right-o.

Actually... it�s a lot like my friend Thais, whom I used to work with at the Studios...

She was from Brazil... and we used to give her random articles from Cosmo to read out loud so that we could hear her talk with her accent.

Man... we were cruel...

But good Lord... was it funny!

Like... this one time, she was reading this article about this girl who was moving and her father was carrying one of her boxes and the box was dropped and her dildo dropped out...

�Deal... doe... what is deal-doe?� Thais asked.

Well... no one really wanted to explain it to her... so... we gave her the explanation that a dildo is something that women use to... um... satisfy themselves when they�re... um... like... sexually frustrated.

About half an hour later, some really bitchy woman was coming through Thais� turnstile... and Thais turns around to the other cast members working at the gate and says... �I think thees woman needs a deal-doe. She�s not happy!�

But... I digress...

Anywho... I�m at House of Blues with Miss Kim and Chad and other random people... and we�re minding our own business... just drinking and doing shots of sub-grade vodka and cranberry juice...

And all of a sudden, a feel a hand on my shoulder... followed by a crotch on my hip... and a semi-hard penis on my leg...

It is a very very drunk boy... who evidently had been drinking a lot of vodka... and unfortunately was a very close talker.

�Vere are you from?� the boy with the drunken and slurred accent asked.

I tried to tell him that I was from all over.

When that didn�t work, I told him I was from Chicago.

When *that* didn�t work, I told him in was from Orlando.

�I am from Norvay,� he replied. �Vill you come to ze bathroom weeth meeee?� He pushed his groin further into my hip.

�NO!� I screamed, jumping away. Chad gave me a big, cheesy smile.

It wasn�t until the drunk boy had finished propositioning Chad that his smile faded slightly.

Now... I thought that after Chad had turned him down that we would be rid of the drunken boy from Norway.

I was sadly mistaken.

Over the course of the next thirty mintues or so, the drunken boy slurred proposition after proposition towards Chad and me.

�I vant to suck your dee-k.�

�You can fuck me and I suck hes dee-k.�

�I have money for you to take cab. I have food. I have alcohol. Pleeeeease.�

The comments became more and more outrageous... but it wasn�t until he started talking to Miss Kim that it was painfully aware just *how* drunk this boy was...

�I vant to fuck you while your friend fucks me and I suck hes friend�s dee-k.�

Who says that?!

In fact... who says any of that?!

This is the kind of freaky trash that I would expect when at the *cough cough raunchy cough cough* Parliament House Club... and Motor Inn. But at House of Blues?!

One of the things that I enjoy most about going to HOB on Sundays is that I can go and get totally trashed with my closest friends and *not* worry about being picked up by any icky, sleazy men.

Instead, I just stand around and make fun of all of the little hoochies walking around in four pieces of yarn they call a blouse... not to mention all of the icky straight boys who like to believe they are God�s gift to the world, yet are totally unable to get with any of the drunken hoochies with legs spread wide open.

Of course, this is while I�m so trashed that the room is spinning around me.

Now, this little Norwegian had to have been really freakin� obnoxious, as by the end of the night, *I* was absolutely ready to knock the shit out of him... and I�m pretty damn tolerant of the drunks when I�m heavily inebriated...

So... as the evening started to wind down, we were finally able to get rid of the drunken Norwegian, altogether. We left the club and only had a close call as the drunk stumbled past us and towards the cab lane.

Unfortunately for him, he didn�t have anyone else with him.

And I almost feel bad for crushing his little vision of his American dream.

Yeah.

*Almost.*

later, kids...

~robert