This past week, I've had the very good fortune of experiencing the two extremes of drunk talk. Extreme #1 would be the "Do people even realize what they are saying?" one. Seriously, even drunk as you are, don't you get it? When I was in Vegas last week, a fellow blackjack player decided to tell me that I looked like Graig Nettles. I didn't hear him at first, and I just saw his friends look at him incredulously as he repeated what he said, and then he added that it wasn't an insult. He then went on to explain that he used to be a famous baseball player, and again with the not an insult. You just compared me to a guy, dude. Seriously. And not a girly-looking guy, either. Not an insult? Once again I ask, do people even realize what they are saying? And here is the best part: here is where we once again enter my bizarre world. I know who Graig Nettles is. When I was 8, I had a crush on his baseball card. I used to kiss it. Some random drunk in the middle of Las Vegas tells me I look like an obscure baseball player who I lusted after when I was 8. Welcome to my world. And I'm sure to the surprise of no one, I still have his baseball card. I dug it out from a box in the basement:

I do not look like this in any way, shape, or form. And no, I have no idea why I had such a fascination and crush on this guy from this picture. I was eight years old, people. Eight. Leave me alone.

I will admit to resembling one guy, though. But it is not Graig Nettles. Old school Emo Philips:

This is who I look like. How do those two men look anything alike? Color me insulted.

Moving on.... Monday night I encountered the other extreme of drunk talk, the drunk philosophers. These are my favorites. And they always have the same basic element to their words of wisdom - they've all been to hell and back and seen it all and "(slur)lemme tell you shomethin(slur)." I love it. One of the best things about the guy I met the other night? His name was Buddy. What's better than that? Buddy had on a t-shirt with drawings of penises on it. Class act. He also regaled me with dirty jokes. Then somewhere in the midst of his bawdy talk, Buddy turned philosophical. Naturally he had gone through a lot of tough times in his life and learned a lot of things the hard way. This is the only path of the drunk philosopher. This path leads to the land of cliches. Buddy was very pleased to have met me because I was "real" and didn't judge him, and had fun talking to him. He likes to meet people because he thinks he can take things away from everyone - and he had already learned from me. Then Buddy offered this gem, "Experiences are just friends you've never met yet." (Apparently, proper grammar is a friend Buddy hasn't met yet, but that's neither here nor there.) I was waiting for the standard drunk philosopher line "Having someone to love is the most important thing in life," but got another dirty joke instead. Hey, you can't win them all. I did learn a great new word, though. At one point in the night Buddy called me a 'slut-puppy.' Awesome. He later informed me that he was using all of his wisdom from past mistakes and misdeeds to mentor my friend. He wants to help guide him and help show him the ways of the world. He even calls my friend "Grasshopper." Thankfully, I have some friends who think like me, because I just turned to my friend later and told him I was a bit concerned about Buddy being his mentor. He nodded and then we both said in unison, "Seriously." Good boy. On my way out, Buddy kissed my hand and went on and on about how happy he was to have shared time with me. He was going to walk away from the experience a richer man. Drunk philosophers rule. But you know what's even better? Slut-puppies!

before & after





2007-09-26 - Follow Me!
2006-09-30 - Site Move & Favorite Entries
2006-09-25 - Evil Easter Bunnies & Rock Climbing!
2006-09-22 - Shameful-Purchase Hiding & A New Dentist Plan
2006-09-19 - Birthday Picture/Video Diary & The Wheelmobile





Copyright 2003-2006 by Sockgirlie. Stealing is wrong.