Friday, January 28, 2005

I kid you not 

Last night I go out to the opening of this bar/club that a friend of a friend is running. It's 80s-themed (or at least last night was) but still in need of some work. Not quite finished, but I guess the guy felt he needed to rush the opening. Bathrooms were still a mess, they didn't have proper shooters for those delicious shots of JD, and the sign of the bar still wasn't up. Fun times, though.

Aaaaanyway, the DJ comes on the PA system between songs late in the evening to urge everyone to come back tomorrow when, ahem, TINA YOTHERS of Family Ties will be there. Are you kidding me? That's amazing! Holy crap! Tina Yothers?! Wow... so? I guess people can finally ask her why none of the characters on "The Ties" ever ever ever drank their orange juice, though they poured themselves a glass each and every time they went to the kitchen (tip to John).

Oh, and did I mention that the name of the establishment is... wait for it... "Chupacabra?" That's gold. That's so ridiculous that it's brilliant.

Highlight of the night, though, had to be the experience I had in the bathroom. Before I continue, I'd just like to say that the ladies may or may not be offended by the verbage herein. Just putting that out there. 'Cause it's lewd, but not for the reasons you think. Okay, so I just finished up and I'm washing my hands and the guy that was in the stall next to me emerges and blurts rather jovially, "It's 80s night!" Men aren't supposed to talk in the bathroom. It's just a rule. Off-guard, I reply, "Yeah..."
Duder: I bet that means that none of the girls shaved their cooches!




Me: Right... well, I guess there's only one way to find out (awkward laugh).
Duder: (like a demon unleashed from hell) YEAH!!!!!!!!!

And then he bolts out of the bathroom, like he was shot out of a cannon, without washing his hands. My, oh my.

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