Saturday, June 26, 2010
Dumb Ass Friends and Dumb Ass Tickets
The other day, an old friend texts me, asking for my address. She then goes on to explain that she is getting married again and having another baby.
(Hey, this is the South. It's how we roll.)
Anyway, this friend just got divorced last year from a guy that she has been with since her early teens. So she's branching her whore sense out. Problem is this.
I went and visited with her at her sister's house about two months ago, where I met her new man.
He's outside, hanging with the men, we're in the kitchen, which is where all the good gossip goes down. She tells me that she doesn't really like him, finds him boring, yada, yada, yada.
So, imagine my surprise when I find out she's actually going to MARRY the boring shit.
A little background on my friend.
We met in the seventh grade, where we bickered over some guy, then became good friends.
I remember one instance in eighth grade, sitting in the cafeteria eating lunch. She actually told me that cum would make your teeth whiter. No shit. In eighth grade. Won't ever forget it.
Anyway, the point to this post. Does everyone have that dumb ass friend that just doesn't get it?
Also, pondering her upcoming marriage has made me contemplate all of my friends and their idiotic life choices.
By the way, most of my friends either are or were, at some point in their lives, sluts. Seriously.
Except for my bestie. She is the single exception.
(I promise, I'm not a slut...even if I did get prego at fifteen...Again, this is the South. It's how we roll - and I'm entering a disclaimer here: my husband is no relation...not even distantly...that I know of.)
Anyway, quick story on one of my not so glamorous moments.
A few weeks ago, I'm out in Tampa with a couple of girls that I barely know (long story as to how I ended out with them). Both of them are named Brittany, one is a little ghetto and we are in a not so upstanding part of town club hopping.
Anywayz, I was going to be nice, because one of them had worn not so sensible shoes, so I was going to move the car closer.
I pull into a slot, head into Coyote Ugly, where we stay for maybe an additional fifteen minutes. We then leave, and what do I find?
Two mounted police officers, one of which is writing me a parking ticket.
(I had inadvertently parked in a Cab only zone - five open spots and a cab occupying only one of them, but there you go...)
The ghetto Brittany (long bleach, bleach blond hair, boobs falling out of her shirt, shoes about six inches in the heel, with a juicy tattoo on her neck) proceeds to try to hit on the cop with the ticket book, when I look the other cop in the face.
Turns out I know him. Yes. That's right. I know him.
Our sons played on the All Star team together last year in Little League.
I wanted to die.
Now, don't get me wrong, my husband knew I was going out. He has no problem with this. We don't go out together, unless it is to a friend's house. We tend to (he tends to) act like total morons in public when in each other's presence. That's all I'm going to say about that. Anywayz...
I tell ghetto Brittany to just get in the damn car, snatch my ticket away from the cop, give a little shit to Little League dad, and leave.
I just want to know how long it's going to take before I start hearing stories about me getting ticketed by his partner at two in the morning in downtown Ybor, with two twenty three years old, one of which tried to pick up his partner. That should make for interesting gossip in the stands. Huh?