What a motherfuck of a weekend, people.
Here's the story. A few of my friends called me on Saturday and asked if I wanted to go to New Haven. There was some art festival going on, and something was mentioned about some drummers being hoisted up in the air.
Sounded fucking stupid.....count me in!
So we get there right on time for the event. There was a large crane the hoisted a bunch of marching type drummers up in the air like a bunch of puppets. I was prepared for utter stupidity, yet my expectations were sent through the roof.
"They have to be French" I declared. "Nobody else could be so stupid."
My friends were aghast. One said "How do you know that?"
Someone else chimmed in "I think they're local artist from New Haven."
"No way." I said. "Trust me, these boys eat cheese."
This went back and forth for awhile until someone got sick of the argument and asked to look at someone's event brochure. We all stared at him while he was reading said brochure, when all of a sudden his face lit up. He looked at me with a smile and said "takes one to know one." He then turned the brochure around for the rest of us to see, his thumb marking a part that reads "...from France."
Do not fuck with Genghis Jon. You'll lose.
Anyways, after being utterly disappointed by not seeing a bunch of French drummers fall from the sky, we went to hit the town. (Mind you, at present time GJ is still upholding his oath of virtue and purety. But will promptly keep ye informed when he does go back to being...how should be say...dusty!)
After we hit a few places, we were walking past the world famous Yale University. Alma Mader to one famous president who got in with a C average, and now continues to run the free world with the same vigor.
As we were walking by, we were openly pondering the likeliness of a future well-connected, yet...unqualified Republican canadate lurking mear yards from where our "Team Liberal" stood.
we were picturing what he was doing right now. Probably lines, was the consensus. In between that, he'd be on the phone to his rich daddy down south. Together, they'd plot his take over. First, after giving up drinking and drugs at age 40, he'd go on Oprah and boast about his "accomplishment" as if he lost his dick in battle. Confusing the tender-hearted people of the country into thinking that stopping yourself from drinking like a maniac was somehow...presidential. After sucking the flock of sheep the media calls "voters", he'd quickly go to bat for the oil companies who finaced his way in. Next he'd make sure the alternative energy program that Jimmy Carter introduced in the 70's (yet swatted like a housefly by "Iron" Ronald Reagan) never appears again to threaten the profitable oil industry. Next........wait!
A sign stopped me on my rant. "Roomba's" it read. "Hey, that's where Amber was having her birthday dinner that she invited me to, until she stopped calling!"
"Holy shit, Jon. When was it suppose to be?"
"Ugh....last night I think. Not sure though, let me think...was it on a Friday or a saturda....
As I slowly looked up I received the answer to my question. Standing a mear ten feet away was Amber. Unmistakable by her 5' 10" stature, and long dark hair. She had her back to me, and my replacment (I'm assuming) was by her side, with his arm around her.
I just stood for a second while I gave my brain time to absorb the unholy fucking situation.
My friends could read what was going on by the look on my face. They stood by, helpless as a litter of kittens dumped into a piarana aquirium.
I had to make a decision, and make it quick. In one second she could turn around and we'd have to face the whole embarrassing situation. Or, I could just turn around and get the fuck out of there. I mean, yeah, she is a piece of shit for not ever calling me and letting me know in fact that I've been uninvited to the dinner. And left dateless for my brother's wedding, where I'll confirm to any wondering onlookers that I am, in fact, a closet homosexual. (I'm thin and smoke Marboro methol ultra lights)Anyways, I was thinking what would beneifit if I confronted her. I mean, she's a single mom, it's her birthday, she spends all her time pleasing other people. She was looking forward to this day for months and I really had no right to fuck it up. I mean, I don't even care that we broke up. So why even address it? In another month, and it would of been me that stopped calling. As I was thinking this, a friend said softly in my direction "c'mon Jon, don't make a scene." Make a scene? That's my motherfucking middle name. Genghis Gonnamakeasceneandembaresseveryoneinafivemileradius Jon.
Fuck it, she shouldn't of made me go to my brother's wedding as a gay man. Besides, I love watching people squirm.
I walked in front of her and stared at her for a minute. She didn't see me right away because she had her head turned. Her sister saw me, and had a "red aletr" look on her face. That's when I knew this was gonna be fun!
I held back a "Hi Amber" that was on the tip of my tounge, due to the fact that I wanted an unadulterated surprise when she turned her head back around, and saw her worst nightmare standing in front of her.
Sure enough, when she turned around and our eyes met, a look that could only be described as complete fucking horror came over her face.
I was loving hit.
"Hello Amber." I quipped.
She attempted a "Jon! Hi!" But started choking, saving me the trouble.
"Thanks, umm, ughhh..I...."
"Is this your boyfriend? Hi, I'm Jon" I said with a smile.
"Brad." my replacment offered.
"So, how was Roomba's?"
"Very good" her sister said.
"Great! I should eat there sometime." I said with a big shit-eating grin, while looking at Amber.
"Dude, if you go try the ...." my clueless replacment started in.
"I will Brad, I most certainly will. Hey, I gotta get going, nice meeting ya Brad, and really nice seeing you, Amber."
"Nice seeing you Jon, I'll call you, OK?"
"Naw, call Brad."
I gave the widest smile I could offer, and walked away with my friends chasing after me, giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls.
Know something? I'm pretty fucking cool sometimes.