Anger Management – Girls In Nightclubs Piss Me Off Some Times
Friday. Precinct. Standing by the bar outside talking to Aster.
“Yeah man, it was insane,” I said. “She started cracking onto a lesbian in front of her ex-girlfriend, then we went to the Evelyn and she got in a fight with some chick.”
“Sounds like you had a fun night.”
A girl walked over from the bar, she was about 5’2″, dark hair, Mediterranean descent, nice features. Nice cleavage.
“Hey, you’re wearing a gold jacket,” she said to me.
“Thanks.”
“It’s nice, but I think I could improve it with some fashion tips.”
I clawed her in and said “That’s funny – I couldn’t make out your words exactly, but I think I heard ‘I love you, I love you, I love you’.”
“No! That’s not what I said – I said you need some fashion advice.”
“‘I love you, I love you, I love you’.” I pulled her in closer.
“You sound like Napoleon Dynamite right now.”
“Pfft. Go away.” I took my arm off her and gave her a nudge. Aster looked a little shocked.
“What? No – I didn’t mean to offend you!”
“You didn’t offend me. I just don’t like you.”
Aster said “He doesn’t really hate you – he doesn’t mean it,” as if he were trying to console her. Aster’s positivity is one of his greatest qualities – he always helps me put things in perspective. However, some times it can be his downfall – he’s always nice to the point that it can seem unnatural or disingenuous.
I looked at her. “He does hate me! He does. I can see it in his eyes – he’s angry.” She pouted.
“I’m not angry – I just don’t like you.” I walked off.
Perhaps I should have been more compassionate, considering she’d put herself on the line by coming up and talking to me.
I walked inside and saw a cute girl, pushing 30, dark hair. I grabbed her hands and said “Let’s dance!” I twirled her around a couple of times, and said “What’s your name?”
“What’s your name?”
“Jones. What’s yours – Rumpelstiltskin?”
“No, it’s not that.” I tried to dip her. Almost succeeded. “Look at you, fresh from the womb. Happy 18th birthday, Jones,” she said.
“Thanks – but I’m actually 25.”
“You’re not.”
“Yeah. How old are you, like 100?”
“More or less.”
“So what’s your name? Christina? Christine? Kristy?”
“Kirsty.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“How about that.”
I danced with her for another couple of minutes. Then her friend came along. “Hey! This is Jones. This is my friend Whoever.” Then she said as an aside “And my name’s Kirsty.”
“What did you just say?” I inquired.
“Nothing.”
“You just told your friend your own name. You’d think she’d know that sort of thing.”
“Okay, my name’s not really Kirsty. I made it up.”
I shook my head. “Why would you do something like that?”
“Because… you seem kind of weird.”
I leaned in. “OH. So I come along and ask you to dance, and you tell me a fake name – so who did you say you think is weird?” I walked off. Pissing me off right now.
“Hey man, that is one nice jacket!”
“Oh, thanks dude.”
“No wukkaz. Can I borrow it for a minute so I can wear it in a photo with my girlfriend?”
“I don’t know – can I trust you?”
“Sure you can trust me – I’m from the country.” I laughed.
“Just let me take my things out of my pockets.” I sat down and put my wallet and phone on the table.
“Oh my GOD! That’s such a cool jacket!” said the girlfriend.
“Thanks.”
“And you’re so cool!”
“Thanks.”
I gave the guy the jacket. He put it on and took a photo.
“I want a photo with him though! You’re so good-looking!”
Okay, this is a little weird. Doing a favour for this dude and his girlfriend starts hitting on me.
We took a photo and I shook hands with the dude and walked off.
“Hey, you look Irish.” I said to a tiny-weeny pint sized blonde.
“I’m not Irish!”
“You look it. What’s going on?”
After a few minutes of talking to her, I decided I would start saying the most retarded shit possible to see what would happen.
“Yeah, that’s cool. But you know, one fish two fish, red fish blue fish. Know what I mean?”
“Sure I know what you mean.” She nodded.
“When you’re in a slump, you’re not in for much fun. Unslumping yourself is not easily done.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I thought I’d see how much stupid shit I could say to you. But hey – what’s the best thing about fucking a pregnant chick?”
“I don’t know – what?”
“You get sex and a headjob at the same time.” I went to make out with her. Denied.
“Whoa – you can’t do that.”
“Whatever bitch.”
“You’re so weird.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point is that you’re weird, and strange. Why are you doing this?”
“No reason.”
Even after all that, she still stood there talking to me. “This is ridiculous,” I said.
“What is?”
“Why are you still standing here with all that fucked-up shit I said. You should go. Go.”
She still stood there for another three minutes before she excused herself to get a drink. Ridiculous.
There was this brunette that had been eyeing me, about 30. She was sitting down on the lounges in the corner. I walked up and sat next to her and started talking about how cool I am.
“So what are you about?” I asked her.
She didn’t really know. “Not a lot. What are you about?”
“Lots of things. I just finished writing my novel. It’s about a door-to-door salesman trying to get laid. I’m going to sell it as an e-book on my website.”
“You have a website? What is it?”
“It’s called Trouble In A Bubble. It’s basically a site where I fuck bitches in the arse without a condom on, while I’m on the john, and force armies of poodles to do my bidding. Also there’s the section of the site where I sell twelve year old Thai girls to wealthy Englishmen.“ You might think I’m exaggerating about what I said. I am – just not as much as you think.
“Oh. Trouble In A Bubble. I’ll have to check that out.”
“Yeah. It’s kind of a problem for me. I add girls on Facebook, then I promote my website on Facebook – so it comes up with a link for a site where I go into detail about having sex with lots of women. Some girls are into it, really into it. But I’m never sure if it cockblocks me with other girls. Some girls just stop talking to me, but then, girls can fall off the radar regardless.”
She commiserated with me. I told I was going to find my friends, and walked off.
There were a couple of cute girls sitting against the wall near the steps.
“Hey, what’s up?” I said, inquisitively.
“Just chillin’,” said the redhead. “Are you having a good night?”
“Not really. I think I’m going to go home – want to come?”
“I uh -”
“Just kidding! I’d rather go home alone.”
“Oh thanks,” she said sarcastically. “I’ve just been talking to you for a minute and you already rejected me.”
“No problem.”
The blonde looked like she wanted to say something, and she started talking in a language, that I could tell by my linguistic studies, most closely resembled Venusian. “Medahasd ifjsjis ckewians vndjnajs weifjd.”
“What?” I said, curiously.
“Ddfaiscmmz nasniidnfk difiaopwqp?”
I crunched my face up. I walked away.
Last night I was out with Age after seeing Ghostface. We went to Lord of the Fries. I ordered a mini-burger, and the dude handed it to me wrapped up in white paper. There was a group of three girls and a dude behind me. The tall girl said “Oh it’s so small! Show it to me.”
“Geez. You’re so demanding. Show me your tits.”
She stood there and didn’t know whether to be shocked or elated, or both. Or none. I unwrapped the burger and held it up to her. “You owe me one.”
I don’t know man. Maybe I’m too old for this club bullshit. I should get myself a girlfriend. A girlfriend with prominent cheekbones, DD breasts, pouty red lips, who drinks responsibly, has personal standards… good hygiene… Stuff like that.
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Comments (4)
Hey, that girl you’re looking for sounds just like me…
[...] walked off. Anger issues part [...]
Monkey Chin, this shit is hillarious, i love it!
“one fish two fish, red fish blue fish.” .. that is so profoundly badass. i love it