Girl Fight
Every time it comes on my iPod, the Lily Allen song "Friday Night" takes me back to the catty bar brawls of my youth. And by my youth I mean a few years ago.
One night, Melmar and Wendi and I were out dancing at a cheesy Lincoln Park bar. (Mistake numero uno.) I was wearing cute shoes that killed my feet, and decided to take five on a massive speaker and give the tootsies a break. Suddenly three Trixies materialized out of nowhere. "This is our speaker," they said, all gangster-like. Or, as gangster-like as Trixies can be. I looked around. In the corner were two small gift bags and a cardigan. "We're having a bachelorette party," they declared.
"I just need to sit down for a minute," I said, pointing to the four inch heels of burning fire. I turned away and began counting my money into a pile next to me to see if I'd have enough for the next round of G&Ts. Until Trixie ass plopped right smack down onto my cash and left leg.
"Um, you're on my money. And also, me." I gave the girl a hearty shove in the direction of the floor. She in turn poured her entire drink into my lap.
I think we were both surprised that she did it. For a second, neither of us moved. And then I flung my drink right straight into her face. We leapt up and I thought I would have to kill a bitch. Her friends pulled her away, and Melmar beelined over from the bar to get between us.
"Okay!!" she shouted, holding up her hand for silence. "We're all grown ups, let's talk about this!"
Lapdancing Trixie started shrieking "This is OUR SPEAKER--" and that's when Melmar did the most awesome thing ever and threw HER drink in the beeyatch's face. Then we grabbed our purses and my sister (who was obliviously chatting up some dude in the corner) and beat it the hell out of there.
Another time, outside an equally cheesy bar, Wendi and I got into it with six beeftacular bouncers over their treatment of some street musicians. It ended when I hawked a giant loogey right into the biggest one's face, and then darted across the road to stand close to a handy police officer. Then there was the time that Melmar tried to choke me to death with the belt of my own coat on the sidewalk in front of our regular Wednesday night establishment. And the time I made a girl cry by telling her to get her fat ass off my sister's barstool, and when her friends came over to demand an apology I said, "I'm sorry ... that your ass is so fat" and she ran to the bathroom and cried some more. But later I felt bad and bought her a Lemondrop and we were all friends after that.
Yep, those were the days.
Thank god I have better taste in bars now.
One night, Melmar and Wendi and I were out dancing at a cheesy Lincoln Park bar. (Mistake numero uno.) I was wearing cute shoes that killed my feet, and decided to take five on a massive speaker and give the tootsies a break. Suddenly three Trixies materialized out of nowhere. "This is our speaker," they said, all gangster-like. Or, as gangster-like as Trixies can be. I looked around. In the corner were two small gift bags and a cardigan. "We're having a bachelorette party," they declared.
"I just need to sit down for a minute," I said, pointing to the four inch heels of burning fire. I turned away and began counting my money into a pile next to me to see if I'd have enough for the next round of G&Ts. Until Trixie ass plopped right smack down onto my cash and left leg.
"Um, you're on my money. And also, me." I gave the girl a hearty shove in the direction of the floor. She in turn poured her entire drink into my lap.
I think we were both surprised that she did it. For a second, neither of us moved. And then I flung my drink right straight into her face. We leapt up and I thought I would have to kill a bitch. Her friends pulled her away, and Melmar beelined over from the bar to get between us.
"Okay!!" she shouted, holding up her hand for silence. "We're all grown ups, let's talk about this!"
Lapdancing Trixie started shrieking "This is OUR SPEAKER--" and that's when Melmar did the most awesome thing ever and threw HER drink in the beeyatch's face. Then we grabbed our purses and my sister (who was obliviously chatting up some dude in the corner) and beat it the hell out of there.
Another time, outside an equally cheesy bar, Wendi and I got into it with six beeftacular bouncers over their treatment of some street musicians. It ended when I hawked a giant loogey right into the biggest one's face, and then darted across the road to stand close to a handy police officer. Then there was the time that Melmar tried to choke me to death with the belt of my own coat on the sidewalk in front of our regular Wednesday night establishment. And the time I made a girl cry by telling her to get her fat ass off my sister's barstool, and when her friends came over to demand an apology I said, "I'm sorry ... that your ass is so fat" and she ran to the bathroom and cried some more. But later I felt bad and bought her a Lemondrop and we were all friends after that.
Yep, those were the days.
Thank god I have better taste in bars now.
Tequila Red called it a day @ 1:32 PM
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