My friend Mitchell and I are at Good Friends the other night.
Mitchell is singing Frank Sanatra songs in the style of Cher and I am drinking vodka in the style of Judy Garland.
Mitchell returns to the stool next to my own after slaughtering “He Drinks Tequila, She Talks Dirty In Spanish” with a transexual.
Mitchell has a suspicious smirk on his face
Before I can ask him what is going on, the VERY drunk hairdresser sitting next to me, wearing a far-too-tight blue “It’s a Boy” t-shirt, leans over and puts his cheek up to my lips. Keeping my distance (of a half inch) I say:
Me: You’re drunk arn’t you?
Hairdresser: AHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhblllraahhhrrrrr.
He had compeletely lost control of the English language.
Mitchell sits down next to me.
Mitchell: I just saw the saddest thing ever. You know how when you someone tries to dye their hair and doesn’t know what their doing, they’ll horribly stain their head? Go look at the older gentleman in the corner.
In the corner, the older gentleman’s chest was stained a dark black from when he had attempted to dye his grey chest hair to match the dyed hair on his head. He is also wrongfully wearing a skimpy green tanktop.
A few minutes later, the hairdresser is gone.
Mitchell and I talk for a bit longer and I see the hairdresser leaning stripper-like against the pole outside of Moon Wok. His right hand is clasping the pole above his head, his left hand is holding his t-shirt up under his chin and his head is cast back in ecstasy.
Stained-Chest Man is sucking on his nipple.
I am startled. I shreek and point in their general direction.
Me: Oh my god, look!
Mitchell (sarcastically): Don’t point, that’s rude.
Karaoke Host (loudly, over the bar’s PA): OH MY GOD FOLKS. LOOK ACROSS THE FUCKING STREET. THAT’S THE MOST DISTURBING THING I’VE EVER SEEN. I’M GOING TO HAVE NIGHTMARES ABOUT THOSE TWO NOW.
Mitchell and I died, right there, from laughter.
I can only hope that never happens to me.