Saturday, June 30, 2007

No good deed

So last night I was at a happy hour with some co-workers, which turned into a much bigger happy hour with other folks, including the chick from my very first blog entry. Turns out she had a death in the family or something along those lines that made her cry, so when I got a call from my buddy Frankie asking if I wanted to meet him and a couple of his boys out at the Pub, I told him it sounded good. I asked if he'd mind picking me up at my house since I was already pretty buzzed and teetering on drunk.

We got to the pub around nine, and had to sit upstairs since the place was crowded. I ordered some corned beef and cabbage since I hadn't eaten yet, and was dangerously close to being drunk. . . . getting tired. Went outside to smoke and felt like I recognized one of my fellow smokers. I kept looking at her, and it turns out she's this this chick that dated Frankie around December of last year. He met her at a Christmas party that we crashed. They didn't date very long, but we hung out a couple of times.

I told her I was there with Frankie, and she went in to talk with him. Now the broad was drunk when we started talking with her, but by 1:00 she was FUBB . . . I was pretty far gone and so was Frankie by then. I asked her if she wanted to come back to my place with us since she was too drunk to drive home. She said she would, but only if I had rum back at my place. I happen to have lots of rum at my place: Cuban rum, Jamaican rum, 151, three other types of Bacardi, and some Captain fucking Morgan for good measure. Not that it mattered . . . by the time we got back to my place, she and Frankie were in full on "hook" mode.

Anyway, they ended up sleeping in my guest room -- I got interrupted by Frankie once to ask if I had any condoms. I told him there were some in the guest-room bed stand. Heard them go at it twice. Nothing like the sounds of drunken sex when you're drunk and sleeping alone. Good for Frankie, though -- he was breaking a bit of a slump.

I ran into Frankie in the hall this morning. He was carrying a pair of boxers with him. They looked soiled. . . turns out the chick went on the rag last night. She was wearing Frankie's boxers, which were now on their way for the trash. They didn't stop the flow enough from the sheets, though. No good deed goes unpunished there.

We all went for breakfast, and now it's going to be a lazy day if I'm lucky.

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