11 November 2011

Below the Mason Dixon not Under Masons' Dick-son

Over this past weekend, I spent some time below the Mason Dixon line – sadly, I did not get an up close of any locals’ Masons’ Dick-son, but it was still an adventure nonetheless. I set out Thursday morning and came back Sunday night. Things started off almost going too smoothly, my cab ride to the airport did not include the usual dashboard illuminated with warning lights (yes, I am that girl, I check all the time and there’s always between 1-5 indicator lights lit up), security was a breeze and even the flight was good. I landed at my destination, went to get a rental car and was upgraded from compact to Jeep Liberty. Many would be all ‘score, this is awesome’ I, not so much. I drive a small car and prefer to keep my cars small (this does not equate into an anatomical preference – just to be clear). Thankfully the ex husband had a Jeep so I had gotten used to driving his drunk ass home all the live long day, so I’d at least be comfortable operating such heavy machinery. My partner in crime wasn’t due in until around midnight so I had a day of adventuring to myself. I checked into the hotel 2 hours early and luckily there was a room ready. The weekend sort of took a nose dive after this run of good luck.

During the day Thursday, I walked around the waterfront and omg it smelled like rotting fish and methane – but was picturesque so what’s a girl to do? The place was roaming with lots of potential prospects of fun but walking around displaying your gag reflex isn’t exactly the honey to attract the bees. I went inside a bar to get a drink, that didn’t really help the stench situation so I went to the mall and finally back to the hotel just before heading back to the airport to procure my partner in crime.

Over the next couple of days, we met some interesting locals and out of towners, the two most memorable being ‘Jethro’ and ‘Cleatus.’ I met these two upstanding citizens (well in this case more like falling down off bar stools citizens) at a sports bar – it was football Sunday and bitch please, I need to get my view on ;-) Anyway, I sat next to Cleatus as it was the only place my friend and I could get seats together. Cleatus at around 4:00 is super slizzered. You could tell he was a regular here and when this place opened at 1:00 he must have just had all but a keg lined up for him. Jethro was older by about 20 years. I questioned this dynamic and it turns out Jethro is from a suburb near me but migrated south – I enquired if wifey got the house in the divorce and he just wanted away from her stank ass and the new pool boy play toy – I was correct. Cleatus worked with Jethros’ father in a former life and now Cleatus was looking to move from North Carolina to Jethros’ neck of existence.

Cleatus had a black eye and decided to tell me how that happened, if I bought his story, I was to allow him to show me his dickson’s 1-2 step. Challenge accepted, morbid curiosity always wins out in these types of situations. Cleatus said that he went with Jethro to the bank on Saturday (b.t.w. - the entire city was shut down on Saturday for the event that had me down there) because Jethro needed to deposit a check. I didn’t realize people still went to the bank for that, anyway – again, I knew the banks weren’t open, essentially nothing was. So Cleatus and Jethro attempt to regurgitate what they had been rehearsing about Cleatus foiling an attempted robbery and had gotten tazered in the process. Hmmmm okay so let’s find holes in this plot: 1) the banks were close 2) I still don’t buy the fact that there was a ‘check to deposit’ lol 3) this story was not on the news and for a small town with no headlines, this would be all over the place 4) no one was listening to this story and being sucked in 5) HE HAS A BLACK EYE NOT TAZER MARKS. I could go on and on but you get the idea.

I did eventually get the real story from Bartender Bambi – her real name is Steph and she looks like Mandi Moore. She’s friends with these two and called their bluff. The real story as it just so happens…. The night before, Cleatus was bombed and attempted to ride his bike back to Jethro’s house where he is staying. Jethro had been given the heads up that he was smashed and decided to have fun with the situation. He jumped out and yelled god knows what at Cleatus but Cleatus got so scared he ended up driving his bike head first into a tree, got in a fight w/a shrub and took one to the face from Jethro. Ah the truth will set you free after it punches you in the face lol. Thankfully, I had a flight to catch so my fun with Jethro and Cleatus ended there – Bambi was kind enough to add my beer to their tab as her form of Southern Hospitality.

Point of the Conversation: it seems no matter where you are and whatever the age, boys will always be boys and never turn down a chance to punch a drunk ass in the face, so if you and your boyfriends find yourself doing this over the weekend then try to get laid post facial carnage - make your story easy to remember and believable – leave the Russian mail order bride or bank robbing heist out of it unless you have the news story to back it up.

- Scarlett

No comments:

Post a Comment

Thanks for your comment! Please 'follow" us by clicking on the "follow" link to the left of the site page. Glad you are reading.