VERN'S

It’s been a few days –sorry. Who the hell am I talking too?

Sorry self…..for being lazy……with myself.

Here is the kicker though –I am now googleable! That’s right! Type it up bitch, I’ll be just past the enter button at the top of the page! Yup…….ummmm….who cares. I DO!

It’s like seeing yourself in on the cover of the tabloids. You may be in the background, and they were trying to get a quick shot of Britney Spears and K-Fed sharing a lolly pop shaped like a penis, AND you just happen to be coming out of the porn shop at the same time…..fuck. BUT, there you are.

THAT’S -being googleable. Nice.

But that’s not what I really wanted to talk about. This is:

I recently turned down………………….sex* I KNOW, I KNOW! Don’t hit me! Let me first explain the situation, and then I will allow you to retort.

Ok, it was a few weeks ago, and I was going to see a friend I worked with. He is a big time spender with a lot of class and charm for the ladies to lap up. Needles to say, we ended up at a tiny little bar called VERN’S. Yup. The bathroom doubled as a utility closet, which wasn’t so bad. In a pinch, you could piss in the mop bucket to speed up the line. It had a pool table….complete with Swiss cheese felt. Sombody even saw that one rip was beginning to resemble a smiley face, so he finished the bitch off. The open grin was completed with a blurb on the exposed table that read “Put your BALLS in here!”

I smiled as I popped open my canned Lone Star –Texas’ finest.

I wanted to start the night off right, so as the first round of New Country hit the jukebox, I walked over and punched my friend square in the face.

I got a roaring “Ye-haw” in masculine celebration.

It was on my way out…..to leave….that my adventure began. I met GLORIA (this will be very short….like the 5 minutes it took to play out.)

Gloria was about 5’ 4”, big cans, and a hat just as massive. The band around the top said “Bad-ass Bitch.” -let that soak in….for just a sec.

She was drunk, and wanted a ride “jush dow thu ru- ‘HIC’- road.” She pointed into an open field, but I got the general idea. I wanted to help her, but I think it was the two cords of leather, stacked with multi colored beads coming out of her front pocket, that made me cringe. “Sha! Ya’ gib me a ride, aaaaaaaaaaand I’ll blow ya’!” Yeah! She just threw it out there like a crack whore!

A ride – A blow. I felt like…….well……dirty. Like –country dirty. Gloria had that in her drunken mental rolodex, which led me to believe that there were a few Friday night sudo-taxi drivers out there with smiles on their faces. Yuck. Country yuck.

I said, “Uh………………NO.”

She went to option B, without missing a beat.

“Ohkay buddy, ‘HIC’…how ahbouut ah fick…..ah fu—ick ya?”

A fick? Yeah….this had run written all over it.

I started for my car, as if I just assumed she was talking to the plastic cow (with VERN’S painted on its ass like a brand.) She followed me like a puppy for a second, then tripped over the cows utter. I can only assume that it had fallen off the bottom of the statue at some earlier date, and bounced into the dirt. A perfect place for our good friend Gloria to stumble over it. Over the…..utter. From a plastic cow.

This is why they put the SHIT they do on television about my state. Largely that is full of crap, but as long as you have people like Gloria, passed out on top of a plastic cow utter -in the dirt parking lot of VERN’S, it’s lassos and fucking longhorn’s for us.

Nice.

That’s my story…..feel free to retort now.

OH! And I googled VERN’S too. Ain’t shit ther’ partna’!