Doggie Style Gives Me A Hangover

7 AM
I wake early the next morning with a throbbing in my head like the USC Marching Band drum line is having its way with me. I sit up and check to make sure that I’m just imagining that there is a javelin sticking through my temple. The pain is real but the javelin is not. I need some aspirin, Gatorade and more sleep. Just as I finish my scavenger hunt and lie back down, my sister calls. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” she asks when I answer. “Doggie style gives me a hangover.” She laughs. “Well don’t let him bang your head into the wall.” The cleverest thing I can come up with is a hoarse “Fuck you.” She asks if I’m still going to Ronnie’s party tonight. Of course I am. “Are you taking DG?” A momentarily whirlwind of activity encompasses my brain. “Shit. I think I invited FB too.” I try to convince her (and myself) that this can all work out. DG will be my actual date. FB and I are just friends anyway. Sister laughs. “Please tell me you are not stupid enough to even consider taking your new boyfriend AND fake boyfriend to a party at your ex-boyfriends house!” I admit that when you say it like that it doesn’t sound like the best plan.

11 AM
DG calls with worse news. He was on his way to my house to see me when the engine in his car blew. Now he is more broke, more angry and more demoralized. I do not have the energy to tell him how to fix the situation or point out the light at the end of the tunnel. I try but I suck at it this morning. He says he’s not sure what will happen with tonight. I perk. My answer just fell into my lap. I tell him that of course I’d love for him to go but I understand if he’s not feeling up to it and not to worry, there will be other parties. He promises to call me in a few hours and let me know either way if he can make it. *note the either way, yes or no, yeah or nay part. It’ll come in handy in a few hours.

9 PM
No word from DG or FB. I had left FB a message and told him we’d be leaving at 9’ish and to let me know if he wanted to come to my house or if I should pick him up on the way. Freak Mama, my roommate Teach and my friend Luk jump in the car and head to the party. I try calling FB one more time but he doesn’t answer. We head to Ronnie’s party.

11 PM
I try calling FB and he doesn’t answer. I try calling DG and he doesn’t answer. I’m pissed at both of them right now for not having the common courtesy to tell me they weren’t coming. Not that there isn’t plenty of things to entertain me at the party but it’s the principal of it all.

A certain WB actor shows up. He smiles and taps me on the nose with his finger and I figure I better acknowledge the fact that the last time we saw each other we had a guitar jam in one of the bedrooms where we supposedly made out. (At the time I did not recognize him. But my friends made sure to fill me in the next day.) I smile at him although the nose tap may be the lamest thing I’ve ever endured. “Are we going to sing Jesse’s girl later?” I ask. He winks. “You remember that? God, it was fun.” I smile back. “No, but my friends told me the next day.” It dawns on me that I may have offended him by not remembering. “Well, maybe we’ll have an encore later.” I shrug. “Maybe.” He walks away.

Baby Girl shows up with some friends. I see E (the guy who sent me the penis pics) get out of the jeep. Dear, Lord. Then I see a girl climb out behind him and take his hand. And soon I am introduced to his girlfriend. I tell Freak Mama about it when I go back inside. I’m laughing at what a loser he is. She asks if I still have the pictures on my phone. Unfortunately, I do. Evil thoughts take over our brains. I could nonchalantly ask his girlfriend if she recognizes it…Nah! I’m having too good of a time and as long as E doesn’t approach me, I don’t feel like getting him in trouble.

1 AM
It’s pouring rain and for some reason our drunks asses are standing outside and watching two girls wrestle in a pool of jell-o. One of which is Slow Skank. Slow Skank went out with Ronnie after I did, then broke his heart. She is an evil specimen of a person and I hate her. She just happened to be in town for two weeks and graced us with her presence at the party. Yippidy-fucking-doo. Baby Girl decides she wants to wrestle too and strips down to her tank top and g-string before jumping in the Jell-o pool. I laugh so hard I nearly piss my pants.

I finally get Baby Girl out of the jello pool and into the shower. There is a barrage of knocks on the door. I keep opening it and telling the people to use the other bathroom. One of the people is the guy that Baby Girl was wrestling. He begs to come in and I can’t stop looking at his six pack covered in raspberry jell-o and a pair of wet boxer shorts. Baby Girl tells him to come on in. They hop into the shower together. I turn away some other people. The next knock is E. He says he’s gonna pee his pants. I tell him that’s too bad. He yells for Baby Girl to let him in. She tells me it’s okay if he doesn’t look. He comes in and pees. I can’t help but glance over to see if that penis actually matches the picture. Holy Gajeebies! It does. He asks me to help him. I tell him he’s an ass. He finishes and makes his way to me, backing me up against the door, neglecting to put his member away. It thumps against my leg. “I don’t think your girlfriend would be very happy about this.” He tries to kiss me and I move my head to the side. “What’s wrong?” I inform him that there are three factors to this:

1. We are in a bathroom and two people are in a shower two feet away from us.
2. He has a girlfriend that is outside this door somewhere that he neglected to tell me about the other night when he was hitting on me at the bar.
3. He sent me pictures of his dick and it freaked me out.

He defends himself by saying:

1. They’re naked in a shower together, they won’t even notice us here.
2. I didn’t ask him if he had a girlfriend. I asked if he had a baby mama, a wife or if he lived with someone. He does not have any of the above and therefore answered truthfully and that if I would’ve asked him directly if he had a girlfriend he would’ve told me he did. But as a man he still has needs to fulfill and she can’t always do it.
3. He sent me the pictures as a preview of the fun times that the three of us (him, his inches of fun and myself) were going to have together.

I grab his member, which is still up against my leg. He smiles; stupid enough to think he’s made a valid case for himself. I squeeze it just a bit harder than he finds comfortable. “Go find your girlfriend and do something nice for her or I’m gonna show her the pictures on my phone.” I shove it back in his pants for him and walk out.

3 AM
My phone rings. I look at the caller ID and do a double take. It’s Kisser. I haven’t heard from kisser in months. We went out a couple times (while MOB and I were on an earlier break) and had some of the best conversations and fun times ever. About a month in he had dicked me over. Stopped returning my calls and emails. Totally just cut me off. I was hurt and not sure how to react so I sent him the following email. (Which I still think is fucking brilliant)
Kisser- please be so kind as to fill this out and send it back to me. Don't worry, it'll just take 30 seconds.

Dear MyNameHere,
I realize that you probably have no idea what's going on since when I left your house Friday morning I told you I would call that day and acted like everything was fine. I'm sorry that I decided to ignore you for the last week but you pissed me off when you __________________. I am no longer talking to you because _____________________. I think ________________. Thanks anyway for the fun conversations and the times we hung out and for showing me that I can lose in darts if the wind blows right. Have a great life. No hard feelings.
Sincerely,
Kisser

He never had the balls to write back. But a couple weeks later I got a drunken apology call about how he couldn’t get me off his mind and he was so sorry and he didn’t know why he acted like an asshole. Things were going so well he just freaked out. And he didn’t expect me to ever forgive him but he wanted me to know how much I meant to him and so on. I caved. He came over. He mentions how brilliant my letter was (as if I didn’t know). We had make-up sex. The next morning he left like everything was fine. I hadn’t heard from him since. And now he was calling me? Oh, I don’t think so.

He says he was an asshole. I agree. He tells me he’s sorry. I tell him he should be. He says he’s been thinking about me. I’m honest and tell him he hasn’t crossed my mind in months. He says he was hoping I’d be a little easier on him. I told him being easy was my problem with him from the beginning. Touche. He launches in to some big story about how much he’s missed me and I get a beep. I tell him to hold on. I come back and tell him I’ll call him back in a second. He says “promise?” And I say “Would I lie to you?” He doesn’t think I would. I don’t call him back.

5 AM
Freak Mama and I leave the party and head home. Drunk munchies set in and we pull into a Jack In The Box. For the record, I hate this place but it’s the only fast food joint that is open 24 hours in the area. We order something like three double jacks, a shake and ‘tato skins. We pull up to the window, laughing our asses off over something that only drunks find funny. I spy the kid at the drive thru and he’s hot. He smiles at us. I lean over and ask “Can I get an order of you to go with that?” He blushes. He’s maybe 21 years old. Freak Mama asks him what time he gets off work. He tells us in two minutes. She says “we’ll just park the car”. I think this is hysterical until she really does park the car. We begin eating our skins and there is a tap on the window. It’s Jack-in-the-box boy, still in his uniform and looking eager. Freak Mama unlocks the door, he jumps in the backseat and we take off. We make the half hour drive to my house to party. Only when we get close to my house Freak Mama decides she is tired and wants to go home. Freak Mama is an evil, evil bitch. So here I am at 5:30 in the morning, sitting in my car as the rain pelts down with a minor I’ve hijacked from Jack-In-The-Box making expectant puppy eyes at me from across the car. I feel like I belong on Jerry Springer.