Monday, March 22, 2010

Alien Sandwich

Levi Part 2: The Neighvors Strike Back

There's something awful about being drunk at five o'clock on a Sunday afternoon.

You have two choices: sleep or drink. And the more you drink, the drunker you get and the office will always meet you Monday morning.


I try to avoid it, when possible, but when two blondes corner you in the hallway of your apartment complex and demand cigarettes, while double fisting Pabst, you know you'll soon be drinking – 2 in the afternoon or not.

I try to avoid the Spring Break kind of drunk; no, men like me were whittled out of the lumber that prefers to stay home and brood over their drink. It's a curse to those who question the good lord and enjoy the humor in suicide.

But, damnit if I hadn't had a boring weekend. Not, that I let loose on that Sunday, but I did experiment with mixing alcohol with women.

They cornered me in the hallway and were intent on drinking with me. It was Neighvor 2 and her friend.

I always had the feeling that Neighvor 2 was a snob and a user: the type of woman that would leave you 500 miles from anywhere when the money ran out.

But, today she wanted to drink and I think her friend had grown bored with vagina monologues. She was nearly begging me to drink with them.

"Too bad. Baby gets nothing – I need to sell these DVDs!" I had been broke and needed to make some quick dosh, so I looted my DVD and CD collection of the crap I was now making myself listen to to justify their purchase.

Ugly Bowie videos, liberal propaganda videos, shitty Elliot Smith, soundtracks to shitty movies, and that midget porn I had purchased in Beirut.

"You're going to pass up drinking with two women to run an errand?"

"Jesus, no! I have to sell this shit in order to buy us beer and cigarettes. Don't you understand? I'll be gone twenty minutes. Hold down the fort and we'll be drinking Budweiser and smoking Marlboros before you can finish reading a shitty blog."


Twenty minutes and I was back. The hilarious laughter of drunken women greeted me from the porch out back. I quickly drank a beer in order to get into character and made my way outside.

My eye was on the friend. She began asking me strange questions, like a reporter. Where I was from, where do I work, and how many cats have I killed in order to maintain an erection.

Soon, the conversation degenerated into sex, like it always does with women, and the friend was telling me how she had just purchased a vibrator for a friend.

I told her the


So, an ex an I were in this sex shop – buying a dildo. For her – I swear. Anyway, when we get to the counter, the lady behind the register says "OK, well, let's try it out first."

My girlfriend and I look at each other dumbstruck.

Could this woman be proving to us that lesbian sex is as cheap and in such frequency that a loser like me would soon witness it? Did she want to grab my girlfriend, spread her legs and plunge the red shaft, later dubbed Raoul, into her steaming womanhood?

No, she just wanted to make sure the thing would buzz, cuz you can't take them back for obvious reasons.


So, I explain this and the friend asks me why I bought my girlfriend a dildo. I tried to explain that it was e-rotic to watch her use one and that you could simulate threeway sex and...I had overshot, these women were not that liberal and it was too early in the drinks. I ended the story, even when they pressed I no longer wanted to explain to them my need to buy my girlfriend a dildo. It just didn't feel right.

The beer began hitting me and I began thinking that there could be some way to get the friend into bed, even though it was Sunday and she was leaving in the evening for Portland.

Before I could put any drunken move on, the Neighvor's boyfriend arrived. I was told beforehand not to mention the boyfriend who had been at my house in a previous episode. It seems she had tired of him, and had moved on to this new one.

The boyfriend arrived and I soon found myself out of the loop. Just like that moment when you look around a party you weren't invited to and realize you must leave or be shot.

I braved it and soon found myself watching "The O.C." with these people. I stared at the degenerate anorexics on the TV for an hour and soon the boyfriend left.

We went out for cigarettes and the Neighvor was visibly trashed. It was four.

We go to the 7-11 to get smokes and the Neighvor has brought a beer. She's waving it around like a trophy when a cop drives by.

He flashes his lights, turns around and we abscond back to the porch of the Sevi.

After waiting it out, we go to The Great Nabob for pool.

The buddy bartender from weeks before is in there and we play doubles, as the place is empty.

I'm pretty much just moving the stick at anything round by this time and I become very aware that I don't have much of Sunday left in me.

The women leave, as women do. I debate ordering whiskey, just to be completely insane, but more people come in and I decide I don't want to be arrested in this condition.

I go home and watch The Bridge Over the River Kwai, drink two more beers and pass out at 8. I wake up a few times and curse the blondes that made me drink with them and finally manage to go to work on 10 hours of sleep.

I am a drunk.

In other news, I took some Vicadin on Saturday and wasn't impressed. Prescription drugs blow.



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