December 10, 2007
-
Crazy weekend with crazy people.
This weekend was a pretty interesting one, involving traveling, brownies, an old lady, and handcuffs. Yeah, if you can read that and NOT want to read the rest of the post, I applaud your self-control.
As I was driving to work on Friday, I got a voice mail from Tiffany. She called to let me know that she would be moving to Alaska very, very soon (less than a week), and wanted to know is I could come down to visit. Basically, she’s going to be going back to school. I hadn’t seen Tiffany since she left Italy (and the Army) in April, so I decided that a Saturday morning drive would be worth it. Also, we would be going out because it was the birthday of a friend of hers.
When I arrive down there, Tiffany was very happy to see me, so there were plenty of hugs. She was in the middle of helping her sister move from their old apartment to a new one, so we would only be spending a few minutes there. However, she said that she had something for me, and handed me something wrapped in a paper towel. When I opened it, it was a brownie.
Me: “Cool, brownies.” ( I was truly happy, because brownies are generally tasty.)
Her: “You do know what’s in those, right?”
Me: “Ohhh (very sadly). These are special brownies, aren’t they?” (VERY thankful I hadn’t taken a bite.)
Her: “Yes”
Me: “Yeah. I can’t eat these.”Now there are many reasons that I wouldn’t eat them, and it’s not just because I’m applying to the FBI, but because I don’t experiment at all. I’m not straight edge or anything, because I will partake of alcohol, but I just have no interest in trying certain things. Also, for those of you who are naive, “special brownies” have weed in them. You may want to watch the movies Half-Baked, and Euro Trip.
Apparently, I have walked into the middle of a situation where these brownies were part of a large party. Tiffany’s sister (TS) had made three trays of the stuff using a recipe found on the internet. A funny thing happened when she made them. To ensure that she made them correctly, she made one batch and tried some before making the other batches. Now, weed makes you hungry. There was no other food around, except the brownies. This began a vicious, two-day cycle of eat brownies, get munchies, eat brownies to get rid of munchies…. Driving over to the other apartment, I meet the sister, and later, Tanya, whom I will classify as cute, and wears glasses, and Jeff, who was with TS. I don’t have a number, but when I have pics, I could put in good words for people where they are warranted.
The afternoon was generally uneventful, we mostly sat around and talked and stuff (and I avoided brownies) until later that evening. Once we got closer to party time, Tiffany and I drove over to her bf’s (Kevin) place to get him, his brother, and another friend (a marine). I was basically evaluating the bf, and he seemed like a pretty cool guy. Interestingly enough, when I got there, he was working on ordering a 61″ television set. I was mysteriously drawn toward that activity. He was down to earth, and ran pretty much the same line as I did with drug avoidance and such, so that earned him major brownie points. I only use that pun, because I used it (no pun intended at the time) when I was talking to him.
I decide to take my own car (because I can always trust me), and we head to a bar. The bar would later become packed, due to the Maywheather fight, which looked like 10 rounds of hugging. Tiffany’s bf didn’t really like to dance, and since Tiffany was one of my clubbing buddies, I stepped up to the plate. While we were dancing, there was an older woman dancing near us, and Tiffany, being as friendly as she is, decided to chat with her. The woman’s name was Anita, she was 62, and her son had brought her out to the bar (what a son). An unfortunate reoccurring theme of the night would be that as Anita got drunker, she would hit on me. This was DEFINITELY not funny to me. I’m talking “coming up behind me and grabbing me” not funny.
At one point during the night, Anita’s son’s group got food, and she invited Tiffany to have some. Tiffany brought some back for her and a few of us. What I didn’t know is that some type of deal was struck for this. I’m not sure of the exact details or working, but the basic idea was that the cost of the chicken would be a kiss from Tiffany’s bf. Here’s why this is funny. Tiffany has been dancing with me the whole night, so I’m willing to bet that Anita thought that I was the bf. Now, Kevin begrudgingly goes over to finish the deal, which apparently, now neither of them wanted to do (I assume that Anita thought this was a bait-and-switch). In the end, Kevin basically got whored out for fried chicken.
Fast forward a bit, and TS and the guy she was with decided to leave, because they are partied out. Meanwhile, Anita has not stopped the occasional walk-by groping, which I am working very hard to avoid. Tiffany is not helping the situation, and I’m sure Anita is getting a kick out of making me squirm. I am also pretty sure that this woman was trying to maneuver in to kiss me. Thank god Tanya was there to save me. I owe her HUGE. Now, Tanya decided to leave, and I decide that his may be a good idea, too, so I say that I’ll follow her back to the apartment. She also has to drop the Marine off at home, so she takes me there, goes to drop him off, and returns. The story gets really interesting in the middle there.
When we get to the apartment, Tanya tells me that I can sleep downstairs, and goes to get me a pillow and blanket. When she comes back down she says, “apparently, I’ll be sleeping down here also, since TS is sleeping in my bed with the guy!” She tells me which pillow is mine (the blue one), and proceeds to take the Marine back to his place.
About half an hour later, TS comes downstairs, and the following occurs:
TS: “Tanya?”
Me: “No, it’s just me, what’s up?” ( I roll over to find that she is standing there wrapped in just a sheet.)
TS: “Where’s Tanya?” (Probably assuming that she would be down there since her bed was occupied.)
Me: “She went to take [the marine] home. She should be back in a bit.”
TS: (There’s a bit of a pause as she stands there.) “Do you have a handcuff key? I need to get this off.”
Me: “No. What… Um…” (Staring at the handcuff on her left wrist).
TS: “Do you know how to pick handcuffs?”I don’t know why people keep asking me if I know how do do questionable things. When I was in Italy, one of soldiers in company had locked himself out of his car. When he saw me, he asked me if I knew how to break into a car. Granted, I did, as I had locked myself out of my car once, and watched the locksmith do it, picking up with some Sharingan-like ability. However, it’s the principle of just assuming stuff like that. My cousin and I have a black-joke thing because of this. That’s another story.
I had never picked a pair of handcuffs, but I understood how they worked, in principle. Also, I had the other handcuff, which wasn’t attached to anything, to look at if I needed a reference. Also, these were like the $12 handcuffs that you would get at a fair. Apparently, they had been on the floor to Tanya’s room (I bet you all want references now), and it wasn’t until the first cuff was on that someone realized that no key existed, which was good, because then TS would have been “handcuffed to the radiator all night” (her words, but I didn’t need to know that).
In the meantime, she is seated next to me, wearing nothing but a sheet, while I work the lock with a small piece of metal that I found, and tell her to hold still. She then gets up and walks away:
Me: “Where are you going?”
TS: “I need to pee.”When she comes back, she is fully clothed. Apparently she was too modest to sit next to a guy, while wearing nothing but a sheet. However, exposing a guy, whom you first met earlier that day, to your handcuff dilemma was perfectly fine. As I’m working the handcuffs (this takes about 10 seconds), TS states that police would have a key. And then moans about having to go to the station in the morning to have them take it off. I should have stopped right there, just at the prospect of seeing the cop’s face. Instead, I removed the handcuffs, and she went back to bed. When Tanya returned, I advised her about leaving her handcuffs lying around. She should also get fuzzy ones.
And then I went to sleep. Thank God.
Black 6, out.
Comments (6)
“In the end, Kevin basically got whored out for fried chicken.”
That line almost made me spit water onto my keyboard. Thanks.
Was it you who taught me how to get into the locked classrooms with an ID card? I don’t think so, but I’m going to attribute that to you regardless now.
Btw… the program was Quicken. It’s useless for quite a number of things, but it has a decent graphics component to it.
Snow gets old FAST when it’s constantly falling on you.
As for your story…. wow. Wierd shit dude! Also, nice touch with adding the links. I’ve known a few straight-edge kids.
interesting story indeed….64yr old woman +Groping…….
eeewwww*shutters* thats enough to make anyone sick to the stomach
Actually, I find out this spring if I can get a job as a guide. Till then, I act as a sort of wannabe-guide for local stuff. If you’re ever in Los Angeles in wintertime and all that jazz, lemme know.
I hope this finds you doing great. I hope you will have a wonderful and blessed Merry Christmas. Take Care, Sharon