Monday, February 16, 2009

Who Am I To Mock Your Fun?

Apparently, for Valentines Day, the best love that me and Gyna were able to muster up was from our fathers.

Because Gyna mentioned this VDay phone call from her dad:

"I think someone got you something sweet from your sweetheart for Valentines Day!"

"Is it candy?"

"If you guessed chocolate candy, then you would be correct!"

My Dad drove out here on Sunday to wander around a used bookstore with me and have dinner, which was unfortunately the best date I've ever had. Because seriously, there are few things more satisfying than coffee and the smell of old books.

"Is it sad that our only Valentines are our dads?" Gyna asked me on the way to the VFW.

"I don't think so. Nevermind. Yes."

Some people wouldn't go out with us on Saturday, and gave us sarcastic excuses like, "Oh, I'm sorry, my limo driver has the night off." It's not our fault you live far away.

So we gathered up Xtine, her friend from work, and Bowser ze German, and headed out to the VFW, where we were served cans of PBR by an old veteran named Hot Rod. It was goddamn single hipster central.

Hanging out with ze German is a blast, because his pants are too tight and he dances with abandon and wants to hit on all the American girls.

I wanted to make fun of him so bad for dancing. So. Bad. Because he looked epileptic and painfully Caucasian. I had to hold off. Who am I to mock someone for dancing for fun? Even though no other man in the entire room was doing it? I admire that: the fact that it never even occurred to him to be embarrassed for dancing like a fucking moron. I guess I'm growing up.

But seriously, if you're at a place with Xtine, Gyna, and myself, and there's karaoke? You would dance with abandon too, because you walked in with the three best chicks, and everyone there knows that, you lucky bastard. Because we rock so fucking hard. We always turn into minor celebrities for the night.

Sure. Karaoke celebrities at the VFW. Yeah, we're cool.

Still, I love it when strange guys give me high fives and tell me how awesome I am. Inevitably, though, in the middle of our conversation about the Peter Sellers movie in the background, whatever girl who was clinging to whatever guy before he talked to me at the bar would come barreling over and drape herself around his shoulders and glare at me in victory. So I would smile to take the sting away, and ask her if she was singing, and she would giggle and say, "Oh, no, I don't sing. He knows," she tilts towards him and coils around him tighter. "You were great, though."

Friendly smile. "Thanks." Pick up my beer and start walking away. "You should totally sing though. Who fucking cares that you suck so much? Other than him." Beer salute to the dude, grin at the whore on his shoulders, and back into the fray. This happens what, like, four times? Same conversation, exactly.

Story of my life. Back to the friends, who've gained genuine admirers from the crowd. They just want to be around us, I think. Am I really so full of myself, to think that? To assume we can have that effect on people?

No. After all, it's how we all met each other. Hanging out at a bar, being so impressed by how the others shined that we all kind of grouped together and became excellent, inseparable friends. Is it too hard to imagine that we wouldn't meet other friends that way? That people wouldn't be drawn to that?

I don't think so.


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14 comments:

Gwen said...

I wish I had that type of relationship with my Dad. Sigh. Coffee and old books? The thought of the scent fills me with an ungodly lust.

I can see how you would have that effect on people. You have that effect on me and I've never even met you.

derfina said...

The smell of old books excites my gut-I end up having to RUN for the bathroom every single time!

pistols at dawn said...

Some of the best dates I've gone on have been to old bookstores, too - to burn them, of course, because only Communists love books.

I kid, I kid. Of all the Impressive Things Women Have Done Around Me, a girl being excited to find Orwell's "Down and Out in Paris and London" is in the top 10. And her knowing every Nabokov book didn't hurt her case none, either.

But I wouldn't worry none about the company this particular V-Day - it's a failing of the local menfolk, not y'all. They'll pick it up in time. As you may have learned, we're a little slow.

prayingtodarwin said...

I hope my daughter and her dad have dates like that. But I think theirs would involve shooting at something. I don't know why, but that feels like the way they'll roll.

The VFW here is The Legion. A friend of mine had his wedding reception at one. Fuck. Yeah.

mongoliangirl said...

Ohhhhh I would love to have a date with my dad. I think that's beautiful, Rassles.
Look, you and your friends need to come to the local VFW. Seriously, there is something wrong when people like you aren't hangin' out.

~Mountain Lover~ said...

I once had a German friend who would wear leather pants and dance crazy. And he would laugh so loud that when we were going skiing everyone in the parking lot turned to stare at him while he was standing there in his blue tighty-whiteys changing into ski clothes. God I miss him. Wait a minute. Is your German's name Karsten?

I sort of had a date with my dad. He hung a bunch of photos for me. And we went to the hardware store because the provided wall anchors and screws were crap. (And I thought it was operator error. YES! Sara 1, World 0!) Good times.

Pearl said...

I'll bet they DO all see you as super stars! There's nothing so attractive as a group of women enjoying themselves. Who doesn't want a piece of happiness?
Pearl

Red said...

I have fond memories of taking over karaoke at the VFW in Missoula, MT with a group of actors I worked with several years back. If anyone knows how to take over a karaoke bar, it's actors. If I lived in Chicago, I'd totally wanna go with you.

And if you ever get to NYC, you have to check out The Strand.

Red said...

For books. Not karaoke.

Gypsy said...

I'm in a relationship and your Valentine was better than mine. We just kind of let it slip by this year. Ah well.

I'd like to be shiny with you guys, I think. Sounds fun. And hot damn do I love karaoke.

The Ambiguous Blob said...

Happy Valentines Day!

Also, you're definitely better at karaoke than me, if you're not lying. But I still fucking rock the mic like I own it.

Florida Girl In Sydney said...

I have one friend who must karaoke "Rock Lobster" everywhere we go. Personally, I'm all about "Copacabana". Gotta love Barry-- or not?

Rassles said...

Gwen: In the father department, I got really lucky. Alas, being this awesome is a curse: some people are afraid of me.

Derf: Who'd have thought that dust and paper could be such an aphrodisiac?

Pistols: My Nabokov knowledge is limited to Lolita, King Queen Knave, and Nine Stories, but I did manage to swing a missing book from The Man From U.N.C.L.E. series, which is really more my speed, and says a lot about my capacity for depth.

Ginny: If my dad could operate anything more advanced than a remote control, we might shoot things. (Oh, and Legion/VFW weddings are the best)

Mongo: It's quite cute of us, in the end, isn't it? I'm his favorite eldest child.

Mount: Ze Germans are hilare, yes? And Home Depot is our other favorite hang out after the bookstores.

Pearl: It's contagious in the end, isn't it? And Hi.

Red: If you are ever in Chicago, you SHOULD go with us. And the Strand is definitely on my list of bookstores to hit up. I always go to a bookstore whenever I get to a new city.

Gypsy: But you had cuddling and farting. What's better than that?

Ambiblob: Happy VDay to you! I don't know if it's that I'm necessarily good. No, who am I kidding? I fucking dominate.

Flora: I am in no way anti Barry Manilow. Seriously.

Bluestreak said...

Can we quit typing and just go get drunk now?