« I get to be Optimus Prime | Home | Gonna kick this day’s ass! »
Foxxy Boxing Gone Wild
By briantologist | June 22, 2003
There was much hilarity last night. It kind of spiraled out of control after starting innocently enough. Darleece & I went out earlyish to celebrate, belatedly, our 2nd anniversary, which according to tradition is the bottlecap and pigeon feather anniversary. After exchanging the necessary crazy bum currency, we hit Camerelli’s for dinner and drinks. I like Camerelli’s because it’s nice without being too formal, but the food’s still really good, and they mix a good whiskey sour, which, judging by how few I encounter, is apparently harder than buying fucking weapons-grade plutonium on the open market.
So dinner was good, drinks were good, reflections on two years and about a week of married life were good, and then we went home, since neither of us felt like going out all that much. Plus I’m still kind of sick, which was why we postponed the bottlecap/pigeon feather jamboree to begin with, not to mention my grandpa’s funeral was on our anniversary, and combining those two is a recipe for hijinks the likes of which haven’t been seen since the dysentery ward at the Manila hospital. The sick is pissing me off; for some reason cigarette smoke is now making my throat sore, which is no good for me, since everybody I like smokes; I only quit in the first place because I got sick for several days one time and figured it’d be a shame to waste momentum like that.
So anyway, home, and just as I was about to say t’hell with it and go to bed, Oh-Oh and her hunkoman A-Rawk show up with their friend Jessica, which sort of woke me up some, pleasantly. Moments later the future Mrs. Max Power shows up, as she was bored at home while Mr. Power toiled away at our local newspaper, where often the shifts end at about 1 a.m. Not too long after that, along came Agent Foxxy Boxing and Jimmy Jam, who’d gone to see “The Hulk” at the drive-in, complete with a mere two bottles of wine.
Apparently JJ and Foxxy had quite a time of it at the Admiral Twin, from when JJ couldn’t figure out how to tune his car radio to 87.9, thus leaving them sans audio for the entire movie, to when Foxxy, after a taste o’ the ole wine, started shouting about her old boyfriend’s monster cock until the middle-aged couple in the suburban next to them rolled up their window, prompting Foxxy to berate them about their loveless union. Also she kept insisting that the movie was in black and white, raising some general concerns about what kind of “wine” Mr. Jam had brought along.
So … much hooting and shrieking, and occasionally I kept thinking, “wasn’t I gonna go to bed at some point?”, foolishly, I should note. But then Max Power got off work and showed up, at which point there was no turning back. I blame myself for not drinking enough, for if I had, I’d have enjoyed myself a great deal more. Let this be a lesson to me.
When I walked into the living room and saw Agent F.B. holding Jimmy Jam’s cell phone and saying, “Mr. Jam? I’m calling about your son, Jimmy. I’m afraid he has a very small penis,” then shouting, “GO!!!” and chucking the phone Staubach-style at Max’s nose, I thought to myself, “This is as good as it’s going to get.” Bedtime, friends.
Topics: Tales of Drink | Comments Off
Comments are closed.