Can you get a hangover from eating too much shrimp? Because I ate about a pound and a half of shrimp last night at Molly’s.
Beers, on the other hand, I only had 3, and I mixed in equal amounts of water. But I couldn’t resist the sirens call of the shrimp. Steamed and loaded with Old Bay, and for a nice price to boot at six beans per pound. Yum.
Anyway, I know you’re here to get all the sordid details from the wrap-up of the happy hour, so here’s what happened in case you missed it, or in case you were there and were too drunk to have any idea what was going on *coughzenchickcough*.
I walked in and eebmore was ranting about the government to Linda and Molly Goatwax. Linda seemed to be taking eebmore ethnic epithets in stride, but she did cast a worried eye my way when I walked in. Molly was pulling pints and sliding them down the bar salloon style, each pint spilling nary a drop and landing directly in front of it’s intended recipient.
Double Dogged came in shortly after, and now that we had power in numbers we grabbed eebmore under his arms and tied him to the urinal in the men’s bathroom. Double Dogged said he would keep watch on the door.
Then Neckbone, Queenie, and Snay rolled in, followed shortly by our host, Mike, and his Wifey. Neckbone’s and Queenie’s adolscent son was parking their Jeep and was instructed to sleep until they were done. Neckbone told me that he’d told his kid that he would go out every hour and turn the heat on for 5 minutes, but then he laughed in a maniacal way that told me he was lying. Mike and his Wifey looked appalled, but then they started making out. For like the rest of the night.
After that it was a steady trickle of the most irritating and depressing people you could ever wish to see.
Bonanza Jellybean rolled in and immediately began to try to sell everyone time-shares to a condo in Dundalk.
Jason J. Thomas made such a sexually offensive remark about the pope that even I was offended.
Zenchick showed up with a bottle of what looked like Robitussin and floor cleaner and was clearly three sheets to the wind. And she complains about Snay getting huggy. Sheesh.
Cara kept showing everyone her black eye and was challenging bar patrons to give her a matching one, “Fight Club style, out in the street, right now.”
Textureslut made no pretense about advertising his black market baby sales. He had two under his trenchcoat!
Fool kept punctuating each of her stories with a shot from her snub-nosed revolver. It didn’t help that eBill kept giving her extra ammo when he wasn’t carving “Die Bitches!” in the table with a 10 inch hunting knife.
Jwer and Messy Hair Girl kept trying to get me out to their car because they said they had corpses in the trunk and they knew “I was into that sort of thing.” I was more offended at how much they were trying to charge me, to be honest.
Jessica had brought a friend from work. … They were actually kind of reasonable people. Friendly, polite, and pleasant conversationalists.
Finally, Jennetic was talking to Jason J. Thomas about the Steelers and got so enraged that she broke a bottle over his head and stabbed him in the face with it. I would have left it at that, but then she did a jig in the puddle of blood that was spilling out of the bottleneck embedded in Jason’s face.
And that’s what happened. I should know, because I wasn’t drunk.
