Conversations from the Bar…

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April 14, 2012 by Kim

It’s a rare occurance when I can wake up, following a night out and still manage to see the humor in the conversations that were held while throwing back the cranberry and vodkas a mere 8 hours ago.

It’s also a rare occurence that I will spell “occurrence” correctly the first time…. apparently the second time’s not looking good either.

So, where were we?

My hindrance when it comes to spelling words that have more than one set of double-letters?  No assholes, we moved past that….

Last night’s intoxicated communications?

Yes!  Now we’re getting somewhere.

It all started so innocently, with an inquiry about Stinky Ferret’s new home.  Stinky Ferret was somewhat recently given to friends who were already in possession of 3 other ferrets.  Stinky Ferret seems quite happy with his new living arrangements and his new little buddies.  It turns out the 4 of them have joined together and started a band… a cover band. However, they’re still in need of a name… and an original band to cover… and tiny instruments… and a crappy van…and some groupies (preferably of the ferret variety)

and then the following text conversation occurred between ATC and I…

   Kim: I just realized something… If they ever make a live action movie about that Doug cartoon from Nickelodeon… U could totally be the grown up version of doug… With glasses because he’s like grown up and stuff… Cause u guys have the same hair… Kind of

ATC: Weird… Id have to have a belt for  my head though…

Kim: and a dog

ATC: I just need something to call pork chop

…and that’s where the conversation ended.  This morning, while re-reading our messages I am kicking myself for not replying that  he could carry around a frozen pork chop… and call it pork chop.  He’d probably have to carry an ice chest around also… to ensure that said pork chop stays in its previously mentioned frozen state.  Oh, and did I mention that ATC was only 2 seats down from me during this exchange.

Yeah, strange things happen in the presence of alcohol.

Somehow, a bit later in the night… the topic of swimming pools came up in a conversation I was having with ATC’s better half.  As I informed her of my swimming pool, she turned to ATC and excitedly screamed that I had a swimming pool… to which ATC turned to me and screamed that I had a swimming pool… to which I turned to both of them and screamed that I had a swimming pool.  The only problem with my outburst was that I accidentally placed a question mark at the end of my verbalization, leading everyone within 25 feet of me to believe I had just discovered that I have a swimming pool.  I tried for about 15 seconds to convince everyone that I have always been aware of my swimming pool… but, they weren’t having it.  So, whatever…

OMG!!!!  I have a swimming pool, ya’ll!!!  I’ve  always wondered what that big water filled thing was, in our backyard.  I always assumed it was just a giant hole… filled with rain water… from all the rain we get… in the middle of the desert.

Halfway through the night the warehouse worker formerly known as Arsenio Hall made an appearance.  When he returned to our table, I eyed his mason jar filled with Blue Moon, suspiciously.  At our local pub, there are 2 sizes of mason jars available.  They offer the Regular Size and also the Sizeofmyfreakinghead Size.

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WWFKAAH returned with a regular sized jar. Something about this just did not seem right… and that bothered me.  Somewhere, buried within my brain I had a vision of WWFKAAH regularly consuming his beverages from the larger jar.  When I inquired about his small-ish glass he looked at me blankly and stated that he always gets the regular size.  I, then proceeded to argue with him for 17 minutes… insisting that he usually gets the barrel-sized mason jar.  When I began to realize, during minute 18, that he was not going to realize the error of his way… I pulled Hubs into the discussion.  For some unknown reason, Hubs took WWFKAAH’s side and agreed that he usually consumes his Blue Moon from the regular sized mason jars.  Anger surged through my body and I turn to NewBJ (as Dickie calls the second BJ he’s met) who I don’t believe even really knows WWFKAAH and repeated my question.  I did my best to give NewBJ a hardcore mom death glare while nodding my head yes, very slowly…  NewBJ looked from me to Hubs to WWFKAAH to WWFKAAH’s little-ish mason jar and back to me… and pretended to fall asleep.

I decided to drop it, at that point, because we all know how men hate being proven wrong.


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