My night on the E-train
I woke up this morning drunk from last night,
again. I woke up cause someone from O town was callin my place at 20 past
eight. Thank god for that cause in my fumbling drunken stupor I had totally
forgotten to set my alarm. Point is I’m tired and drunk right now, so pardon me
my lack of wit and spell check.
So it all started with me waiting 50 minutes
count em: fifty! At the streetcar stop on queen hoping to head eastwards to meet up
with Erika, a.k.a the E-train, (a mode of transportation I’ve learned, best taken
on a full stomach) Anyways the streetcar shows up at 6, and I’m drenched in
sweat, no joke, my shirt is a whole other colour. The trolley proceeds to wait
at every fucking traffic light so 45 minutes later I get to the distillery, run
into Erika walking up Parliament and we get on the King car back to where I
came from. Erika brought this sweet young cunning blond with her, Claire, and
Claire took us to meet her friend Emily. Claire is seemingly inoffensive but
flirtations at the bar we went to would prove otherwise. Meanwhile Emily who is
slightly less attractive than Claire (with her never ending rolling locks of
blond hair and foundation covered perfect skin) is hilarious industrious smart
and even a little (very little) altruistic, not to mention she’s a hard working
rich girl living like a not that rich girl… come to think of it her dad’s a
diplomat, she aint no rich girl.
Anyways these two too skinny girlies take us to
some GOLDIGGER bar called KI, maybe you know it. Drinks are $100.00 each and
the place is swarmed I bottle blonds and financial advisers, most of whom have
yet to make their millions and deeply resent women expecting things from them.
I have 4 champagnes and one ‘yo mama’ competition, which I totally nailed with:
“Your mamas pussy is so flappy, I could just climb up in that bitch and throw a
party!”
Other than that I was feeling pretty invisible,
the two twinky girls were chatting it up with gray haired losers and Erika has
the rack to end them all, so excluding the times I was mistaken for a waiter I
was getting kinda lonesome.
So, I started finding out girls names and the
twinks had roped a couple guys into conversation, one totally gross jew they
called Bean cause he somehow managed to be skinnier than me (eeeeew) and these
other two guys from Montreal, Jim and Marc (Jim took my card (the one where My
dick is on my boyfriends face…) and Marc gave me his with that little Ontario
crest on it… you know the one with the moose and the polar bear on it) Anyways
I started playing matchmaker and telling hot girls that Marc was loaded and
then telling Marc that the girls were easy, and so forth, it was hilarious. But
even funnier still was when Erika and I were leaving and the guys conceited
that I was the most interesting person they had talked to, I turned two
government lawyers at a gold digger bar GAY! Hold onto that card Jimbo.
So I rode the E-train to Avenue and … I don’t
remember somewhere betwixt Bloor and Davenport, to some De-Lux condo apartment
to meet her friend Malcolm, who at this point was infamous to me as a good
times rich guy who like chicks, and tolerated they gays, but had no time
whatsoever for straight men, so automatically I liked him. Malcolm was m.i.a
but Rudy, his doorman, let us in thinking we were there to see (or service)
Jason??? Whoever that is. We get into Malcolm’s and Chris is there. He’s some
other rich kid, works in real estate and has pipes the size of my thighs, but
still couldn’t manage to open the bottle of Mateus rosé Erika and I ended up
mixing with our, I mean Malcolms Vodka, we called them Rolly Stollys. At this
point things get kinda foggy for me. I remember being an obnoxious sassy fag,
talking a lot about pussy, trying in vain to throw up in the bathroom (Rose you
are so right, with too much use you totally lose your gag reflex, no matter how
many fingers you stick down there) and having to stop because of it’s proximity
to the party room. I also remember finding a hideous HERMES tie (ORANGE! With
that little graphic of the horses repeated all over it in red, it looked like
the kind of shit some cheddar car sales man would wear) that Erika and I assumed must be a free
giveaway with the purchase of some $3000.00 bag… and I also remember, with a
little less pride perhaps, finding a roll on Hermes deo stick, and rolling it
on just for shits and giggles. It wasn’t till Malcolm showed up and freaked on
Erika, who at this point was totally rocking the tie, because I guess all those
très cher Hermes trinkets were in fact gifts for Malcolms daddy. He said his dad
didn’t really like him, I told him I didn’t think the orange tie would help his
case, then Erika and I serenaded him with a verse of “Daddy I love you”
At some point I abruptly excused myself and
fumbled down stairs to get a cab. I ran out of money before I got home and had
to crawl the remaining five blocks. I have no idea what happened next but I
woke up naked on the floor with a bloody asshole…. Just kidding, sort of. I
woke up naked, that part is true, but I was on my bed, and by on my bed, I mean
on top of my bed and everything I had left there yesterday, this morning I had
the impression of c.ds, keys, and a stapler on my ass, and as I previously
stated I was drunk as a skunk, still am to be perfectly honest. I was 20
minutes late for work and had to leave the office to get some grease and
coffee.
So barring the fact that I made it home before
midnight, I almost proved I was nobody’s homebody, and I think I can really
make it next time, if only I can bring myself to eat first.
P.s. I am way to
drunk to proof read and the words wont stay still, so if this is fucked, that’s
just tuff shit.
