You Deserve a Drink: Boozy Misadventures and Tales of Debauchery Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Mamrie Hart
fluids.
We left and went to a bar on Duval. It was then that I fell in love . . . with the fabulous, gay bartender. You would’ve thought he was John Waters seeing Divine for the first time. He bought my girls and me two too many shots, and even sent us up to the private roof bar. He might have vaguely looked like Freddie Mercury, but that night, I was his Queen. I was his Fat Bottomed Girl. I was not telling these types of bad jokes.
So far our last hurrah in the Keys was going
gangbusters
. My girls and I danced, and took shots, and we even got our chests painted. I went for a psychedelic theme, complete with tons of glitter. It took us a few minutes of walking around with our glittered-out versions of
Starry Night
on our bare chests to realize no one was looking. Once again we were surrounded only by gay men. I refused to have gone to spring break without so much as kissing someone, so I threw on my Day Five tank (carefully, because of the paint), said good-bye to my mustachioed new BFF, and left to hit up one more bar, making sure there were obviously straight college guys there before entering.
And as if on cue, a cute man appeared! And he was
super
cute. That, or I was
super
drunk—I didn’t care which one was the truth. We talked for a bit and I thought to myself,
I will put my mouth on that mouth
. I told him about the Shores, and he told me that he and his friends were staying at a weird bed-and-breakfast that had rabbits running loose on the grounds. I assumed this was either the weirdest or the most brilliant way to get a girl to come home with you, because I was definitely going to have to see.
Now, hold up, I didn’t go with him alone. Mama didn’t raise no fool. Well, technically she did, but it was my brother. (Hey, Dave!) I brought my three girls with me for safety. And sure enough, that place had bunnies running all over the place. Key West is fucking weird, you guys.
So, we all hung by the pool and played with bunnies and continued drinking. Finally “dude” and I took a walk and actually had a deep conversation. If I remember correctly, I believe it went “Blah, blah, blah, put your tongue deep in my throat.”
(RUTABAGA! I repeat, RUTABAGA!)
Finally! I am getting a little action!
I thought to myself. We started making out and, I gotta admit, he was a great kisser. But apparently, so was I. Because after about three minutes of making out, just when I thought he was gonna go for a boob grab, it happened. It came out of nowhere. Seriously, it
came
out of nowhere. That’s right. He full-on jizzed in his pants. Even worse, he sounded like a goat while doing it. Not like a cute little goat you’d find at a petting zoo. More like one of those screaming goats that geniuses remix on YouTube.
In the immortal words of the Beach Boys, we got there fast and then we took it slow. And by that I mean I froze. My tongue was still in his mouth, and I froze like a statue. How do you react to something like this? If this were someone I was dating, I would’ve comforted him and said, “It’s totally fine, babe. Don’t be embarrassed!” Later, at our friends’ dinner parties, we would regale them with the story of our “first kiss,” all while laughing and passing the haricots verts.
But this wasn’t a guy I liked. This was essentially a stranger. One I would probably never see again. So, what did I do? I remembered what to do if you run into a bear in the woods. I put my hands above my head and slowly walked away, still facing him but avoiding eye contact. I even hummed to break the silence. I full-on hummed “Don’t Cha,” by the Pussycat Dolls, because that shit was the
theme
of spring break.
I quickly went and found my friends, who at this point were way too drunk to be handling small mammals. If I remember correctly, they were reenacting the rabbit scene from
Fatal Attraction
.
“We gotta go.”
“What’s the matter?”
“We came. We saw. He came. I saw.”
We got the hell out of
We left and went to a bar on Duval. It was then that I fell in love . . . with the fabulous, gay bartender. You would’ve thought he was John Waters seeing Divine for the first time. He bought my girls and me two too many shots, and even sent us up to the private roof bar. He might have vaguely looked like Freddie Mercury, but that night, I was his Queen. I was his Fat Bottomed Girl. I was not telling these types of bad jokes.
So far our last hurrah in the Keys was going
gangbusters
. My girls and I danced, and took shots, and we even got our chests painted. I went for a psychedelic theme, complete with tons of glitter. It took us a few minutes of walking around with our glittered-out versions of
Starry Night
on our bare chests to realize no one was looking. Once again we were surrounded only by gay men. I refused to have gone to spring break without so much as kissing someone, so I threw on my Day Five tank (carefully, because of the paint), said good-bye to my mustachioed new BFF, and left to hit up one more bar, making sure there were obviously straight college guys there before entering.
And as if on cue, a cute man appeared! And he was
super
cute. That, or I was
super
drunk—I didn’t care which one was the truth. We talked for a bit and I thought to myself,
I will put my mouth on that mouth
. I told him about the Shores, and he told me that he and his friends were staying at a weird bed-and-breakfast that had rabbits running loose on the grounds. I assumed this was either the weirdest or the most brilliant way to get a girl to come home with you, because I was definitely going to have to see.
Now, hold up, I didn’t go with him alone. Mama didn’t raise no fool. Well, technically she did, but it was my brother. (Hey, Dave!) I brought my three girls with me for safety. And sure enough, that place had bunnies running all over the place. Key West is fucking weird, you guys.
So, we all hung by the pool and played with bunnies and continued drinking. Finally “dude” and I took a walk and actually had a deep conversation. If I remember correctly, I believe it went “Blah, blah, blah, put your tongue deep in my throat.”
(RUTABAGA! I repeat, RUTABAGA!)
Finally! I am getting a little action!
I thought to myself. We started making out and, I gotta admit, he was a great kisser. But apparently, so was I. Because after about three minutes of making out, just when I thought he was gonna go for a boob grab, it happened. It came out of nowhere. Seriously, it
came
out of nowhere. That’s right. He full-on jizzed in his pants. Even worse, he sounded like a goat while doing it. Not like a cute little goat you’d find at a petting zoo. More like one of those screaming goats that geniuses remix on YouTube.
In the immortal words of the Beach Boys, we got there fast and then we took it slow. And by that I mean I froze. My tongue was still in his mouth, and I froze like a statue. How do you react to something like this? If this were someone I was dating, I would’ve comforted him and said, “It’s totally fine, babe. Don’t be embarrassed!” Later, at our friends’ dinner parties, we would regale them with the story of our “first kiss,” all while laughing and passing the haricots verts.
But this wasn’t a guy I liked. This was essentially a stranger. One I would probably never see again. So, what did I do? I remembered what to do if you run into a bear in the woods. I put my hands above my head and slowly walked away, still facing him but avoiding eye contact. I even hummed to break the silence. I full-on hummed “Don’t Cha,” by the Pussycat Dolls, because that shit was the
theme
of spring break.
I quickly went and found my friends, who at this point were way too drunk to be handling small mammals. If I remember correctly, they were reenacting the rabbit scene from
Fatal Attraction
.
“We gotta go.”
“What’s the matter?”
“We came. We saw. He came. I saw.”
We got the hell out of