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When $1 Beers Cost Too Much

January 26, 2011

Let it be known that I didn’t always sit on my couch behind a computer making fun of people.  I used to actually have a life.  No, it’s true.  Stop laughing.

Anyway, I used to work at the nearby chain drugstore and after work my friends and I would walk to the bar next door and spend the little money we made.  If I remember correctly, thursdays special was dollar bottles so we went with very little money and left with quite a buzz.

I’ve always been pretty sarcastic and I used to (ok, still do) love to mess with people.  You know, make up stories that were outlandish and convince them they were true.  Boyfriend in prison, almost victim of black market organ theft, etc.  The only requirements were that the stories had to be ridiculous and hilarious in retrospect.  Once I convinced a guy that I was 99% Irish and 1% African American with the only proof being this one really small, dark freckle on my clavicle.  He believed me a little too quickly which was a sure sign to me that this was going to be a great night.

Anyway, since I’m a quirky girl and I often end up in bizarre situations, I often felt (and still feel) like I had a sign on my head that said “If you are wierd, not my age, creepy, or just all around shady – COME TALK TO ME”.   This one particular night of dollar bottle bliss paired me with two older men.  I’m guessing they were late 30’s-early 40’s but, remember, at the time I was about 22.  I don’t consider that old now, but you know how it is.  Seventy isn’t old anymore when you’re 65, ya know?  So, this one guy was trying to play MY game by trying to convince me that he was a pharmacist.  He didn’t know that I had been a pharm tech for years an knew alot about legal drugs so I stumped him several times.  Once he realized that his schtick wasn’t working, he invited me to a party.  A “VIP Party” for just the two of us.   I know what you’re thinking.  “He sounds like a real smooth operator.  Why didn’t she go with him?”  Well, dear readers, here is one of the main reasons why.  When he popped on his jacket I saw that he was wearing this (except leather, not pleather):

I. Kid. You. Not.  So, I guess this time the joke was on me. 

Welp, I think we’re done here, don’t you?

2 Comments leave one →
  1. January 26, 2011 11:24 pm

    HAHA!!! I always pictured the jacket as denim. For some reason this story is now 10 times better!! HAHA!

  2. Betsy permalink
    January 27, 2011 12:12 am

    LMFAO! I remember that night!! That guy ruled!

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