The boy, the whore, and the slurring.

So. Tonight. Where do I start...

The boy is a member of this charity, that we will call the Happy Club. That is not what it is actually called, but it might as well be. He goes to a monthly meeting where he comes home wasted. I never actually hear about any good they are doing...just the drinking they are doing.

In October, I went to the Installation Dinner where a new president was "installed" and the boy became an official member. We got there early and I started talking with the bar tender who I dubbed the beer whisperer. I got ridiculously drunk and cursed her for all of time. I am fairly certain I gave her my number, but can't be sure. Yeah. It was that bad.

Tonight was the Christmas dinner. I decided to be the designated driver and redeem myself from my ridiculousness the last time I got together with them. The boy, however, decided to get ridiculous. His friend brought a date, who...well...let's just say she has seen a few poles in her time. She was wearing a dress that came slightly below her underwear and was so low cut her hot pink bra was sticking out of the top most of the night. She got so drunk, at one point, I was holding her up. Oh, and she was wearing a faux leopard skin coat. And knee high furry boots.

I was sober. Let me repeat that. I. WAS. SOBER. There is nothing quite like being totally sober and having to hold up a whore. DAMNIT, I SHOULD HAVE FOUND A POLE. Sigh.

So, the entire way home the boy was talking nonsensically and slurring. I have no idea what he said, if anything at all. He could have been like, hey, that is a car. But, it would have sounded like Sheyshayoingiqyaproiangkrlejs car.

When we got home, I felt it was only fair that I caught up. I mean, der. It was only 10 pm. There was drinking to be done. So, I grabbed myself a glass of wine and flipped on the T.V. (there was this crazy huge business fire down the street I had to watch.) I finished my first glass and asked the boy to refill me. He grabs a completely empty bottle of wine, takes out the cork, walks all the way over to my glass, and stands there for an uncomfortable amount of time "pouring" it before he realized it was an empty bottle in the recycling pile.

I laughed my ass off. I may have pointed. His response was shioewnfk waoin empty.