Drunks With a Camera Meet the Don Juan of Lesbians…and other adventures.

I haven’t been writing! I don’t know if it is a lack of things to say or a general lack of interesting things going on.

First, I must update everyone on the Valentine’s Day situation with Little Man and Shannon.  She’s a bitch.  Enough said.  Really, though…my sweet boy finally got up the nerve to ask her.  She said that she couldn’t go because she had a club meeting the same day as the dance and wasn’t able to.  He decided to go anyway without her.  When I asked him how it went, this was the response I got:  “Well, I was having a really great time mom….until I saw her there…”.  I swear my heart broke into a million bits.  I came up with every excuse I could to make him feel less rejected.  That’s not what he wanted, though.  What he really wanted to know was whether or not he should go up to her the next day and say, “So how was your CLUB yesterday??”.  I advised against him being a little jerk.
So, this past weekend was a long one and I needed it.  I actually had 5 days off.  I took 2 extra days to spend some time with my sister, Tattooed and Organic (aka Freddie), and my cousin (aka Flossie) who were coming into town.  Thursday was spent with sister and mom.  I got my hair done (I got bangs! I look 13!), we did lunch, and shopped to our hearts content.  I finally found a hairdresser that I like.  It’s been years since I’ve had one.  She is a zombie loving, tattooed, wild child and is just right.  Our conversation consisted of her trying to convince me not to wash my hair as often as I do and that I should go into Roller Derby.  I said I like to skate, but I’m just not aggressive enough.  “Oh, we’ll teach you to be aggressive, sweetie.”

 

Hmmmm…I’m thinking about it.

Friday was spent at my tattoo shop of choice, Red Handed Tattoo Gallery, finishing off my chest tattoo. My mother, myself, sister, and cousin were all there.  Telling you that we pretty much took over the shop while we were there would be an understatement.  My work took the majority of the day.  Sometimes I wonder what, Chance, my tattooer thinks of the fact that every time I get work done, I have a barrage of girl visitors that come in and proceed to divulge the details of their sex lives. (It’s the only time I seem to get my girl talk in!)  I like to think that most of the time he is tuning us out.  Hopefully.
Anyway…the wine was flowing, there was beer drinking, cupcakes, babies, laughing, tattoos drawn up on dollar bills in a sushi bar, and a very expensive camera.  Drunken debauchery ensued, until some sort of stomach bug caught up with Flossie, and I had to take them home.  For reasons not needing to be mentioned, we deduced that it was not the alcohol.  Saturday we met for dinner at Firefly, because quite honestly, they have sangria and mojitos that are to die for…and they’re sold by the pitcher, which is even more delightful.  It gets crowded, but is sooo worth it.  I came in, looking through the crowds of people, trying to find my dinner dates, when I was approached by a female server.  She proceeded to tell me how much she liked chest tattoos, open up my shirt to take a closer gander, ask me where I was from, then tell me how much she liked the South.  You know that feeling when you walk away from a conversation, asking yourself, “Was I just being hit on?”.  Yeah.  That about covers it.  My girls were at the bar, joined by an odd looking fellow who I had never met.  When Flossie whispered that they didn’t know him and she had almost put her fist in his face, I took it upon myself to make him go away.  He was hurt, until he found two other ladies to have a drunken convo with.  We were able to finally get our table…and guess who our server was?  Mandi.  The chick who looks at chest tattoos because it is “just another way to check out someone’s chest”. She actually did describe herself as the Don Juan of Lesbians.  She was cute, and a flirt, and looked like Shane from “The L Word” (who I had a major crush on when I used to watch the show), and made us all feel like we were the only girls in the place…until she got distracted and went to another table to flirt/serve/make another woman’s night.

The TV version of Mandi

She loooooved Flossie’s accent.  In fact, after we left, we went to the tattoo shop to get Flossie’s tattoo, then went back for a few more rounds (of drinks and of hanging with Mandi).  We stayed until closing, turned down Mandi’s request to go out for drinks, but left with her number.  She was disappointed when she didn’t get to go out Sunday and see Freddie and Flossie before they went home.  I’m sure she found someone else to flirt with, though.  I’ll be returning for some Sex in Jamaica with Mandi for sure.  (We developed a new name for the mojitos we were drinking…but I gotta throw an innuendo in here somewhere!)  Hopefully I made a new friend.  I mean, I may not have an accent, but I have a chest tattoo that I’ll let her look at…that should count for something.

I didn’t get to see them before they left for home either.  Freddie and Flossie are gone now and I miss the laughter.  I don’t think I ever laugh as much as I do with them.  Hopefully we don’t have to wait another 11 years to all be in the same room again.

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