Monday, January 3, 2011

Legra's Law - * 3 * - Strays

Sue, Lindsay, and I arrived in Boston Friday night with no gas (literally the gas light on) and money burning a hole in our pocket, ready to get it started. When we arrived at the bar we went straight to the punch and ordered six beers for the three of us. Double fisting was a necessity after a long week and equally long drive. I decided to wear a favorite perfume of mine at the time "Beer" when I laughed so hard that beer flew through my noise like an erupting geyser at something that was so funny, I can't remember it thinking back.

As the three of us sat at the bar, talking and laughing, I kept noticing a disaster behind us mimicking and imitating us when we were talking. He must have been attracted to the perfume. As I have often seen, animals like this in the wild, I knew the best course of action was to pay no mind while giving him the "what the F are you doing, a**hole" look. Eventually he found his appalling way into the conversation.

He bummed a cigarette and even got one of us to buy him a drink in the hopes of him leaving us alone...BIG MISTAKE! The real problem grew into this beast thinking that he was now part of our crew. He was falling all over us and sticking his arm and nose into our conversation. We were doing the "talk around the fool" dance as we tried to continue our conversation around this "Masshole" (combination of a person from Massachusetts and an A**hole - and I didn't even make this up)!

We ordered shots and he literally stuck his hand out as if we were going to get him one. He even grasped air like, "Where's my shot?" What?! Are you joking? What time is it, Masshole? Haven;t the keepers started locking up the zoo yet?! Find your own friends!! Where are they anyway?

And while I have a ton of sympathy (more than I should sometimes), my other friend, Lindsay had none. She was blatantly mean. Like "Bro, get the f*ck out of my face" blatantly mean.

After some choice words between drunken Masshole and Lindsay we all stuck to Plan Ignore. Like a T-Rex, if you don't move they can't see you. We stopped talking to him, stopped allowing him into our conversation and our space. We moved our seats together and blocked him out like a goal kick, cupping our beers. Eventually, he found some other poor sap of a girl to bother. Towards the end of the evening when we saw him get ditched by her and start to make his way over to us again, we threw on our coats and bounced out like zoo kangaroos.

Moral of the story: never feed a boozer even one sip of booze. Like stray cats, they will always come back for more.

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