Mama’s Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Truckers

8 AM

I wake Gloves up. He has an appointment at 9 and is going to be late if he doesn’t scurry. We reiterate our plans to BBQ and watch the playoff game this afternoon before we go out tonight. I fall back to sleep.

9:30 AM

My phone rings and it’s Gloves. “You missed me that much?” I laugh. He doesn’t. “What’s wrong?” He has to leave today instead of tomorrow. I think he’s just failing at being funny and tell him to shut up but he’s serious. Crap. This sucks. “When do you think you’ll be back?” I ask. “I dunno. Hopefully in two weeks but it could be six.” Ouch. He tells me to have fun tonight and be good while he’s gone. Always.

9 PM

Stupid Marty Schottenheimer ruins my dreams of a Chargers vs. Packers Superbowl. It’s overtime. You’re out forty yards with a rookie kicker. I love you Nate Kaeding! Total props to my Iowa boy, but please! Why would you not at least TRY for the touchdown? Or at least get this kid some more yards instead of running it up the middle, wasting downs and gaining nothing! And get it in the middle of the field! Don’t leave it on the right hash. And did I mention that it’s raining and the field conditions are sucky? Seriously, you wonder why you lost all your playoff games. Marty ball SUCKS!!! Stupid, stupid, stupid.

9:30 PM

To the bar with Vagina Jane. LA is there. Haven’t seen him in a while. He’s on me like flies on shit. I’m trying to be polite and friendly but he is really making an ass of himself. First of all, he makes fun of the Charger game. Mistake number one, big guy, mistake number one. A little later he comes up and sits next to me while I watch Preach and Vagina Jane play darts. Now keep in mind we hooked up about four months ago but I’ve seen him maybe three times since then. We’ve been cool but I wasn’t looking for it to happen again. So LA saunters up next to me. (He’s the guy that talks .3453 millimeters from my face like it’s really important and I need to concentrate). We make some small talk and then he gets this sad look on his face and says, “You’ve been giving my shit away?” Oh…no…he…didn’t! “You’re shit?” He grabs my thigh and looks towards my crotch. “My shit. My goods.” I remove his hand. “I didn’t see your name on it last time I checked.” He says, “How you gonna do me like that?” I’m blown away. “Do you like what? We hooked up, once.” LA strokes his hand across my cheek and musters a sad puppy dog face. “I thought you loved me.” Can he be serious? Why, yes, he is. I explain to him that I haven’t even seen him in months. If he was so into me he’d call me. He says he thinks about me every day. “Don’t you think about me?” I shake my head, no. “I’m seeing someone.” It’s not a COMPLETE lie. I see Gloves naked a lot. For a second I think LA might really have a broken heart. I feel bad. He gives me a kiss, half cheek/half lip and walks away without a word.

The DJ is playing. Our cups runneth over. People are starting to crowd in to the bar. Freak Mama asks to talk to me outside for a second. This goes very, very badly. It pisses me off so much I can’t even write about it. I don’t know if that has ever happened to me before in the history of my life. I have only one thing to say about the situation: Fuck Joy and the dirty fucking coke addict whore that she is. Okay, I’m fine. Moving on. Sam, Smoke and Froggie come at the end of the night. Baby Girl runs off at the mouth at two broads and we all stand in the rain watching. I hold her glasses. I always hold her glasses when she’s about to kick somebody’s ass. It’s my duty.

Vagina Jane and I head to the 24-hour food joint and to drunk-gorge ourselves. A guy from the bar shows up and we tease him that he’s following us. A pair of guys comes in as we’re finishing up and start talking to us. The obnoxious one starts eating my french fries and asking us odd questions. We decide we’re done and scurry out the door. Ol’ dude follows us to the car. He’s talking at Vagina Jane through the window, telling her to put it down and give him her number. She’s acting like the window is broken and that she can’t figure out the locks to open the door. He’s just yapping and yapping, trying to exchange digits. She’s faking mouthing stuff back at him. I’m laughing so hard I can hardly start the fucking car. Finally, we start backing out and he finally gives up. Man! Some guys just don’t get it.