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So the night starts off with ..... well we got started before the night hit. Rossco, Parker and I head to the local pub and sit ourselves down for an indepth conversation into music from the past, musical influences, and bull riding. Parker and I decide that we could start a fundraiser where if we meet our target dollar amount, then we will ride a bull. Not together, each would get their own bull. But riding together would be pretty funny. Maybe if we could raise $10,000 or something we could ride a bull together.

ANYWAYS. After burning through some long island ice teas (6 to be exact, I can still picture the bill) for myself, and Rosco and Parker tossing some beers back, we decide to head to Howard's for some Ryes to celebrate my birthday. So we head there and find Howard and Liz - birthdays drinks for all.

With the rye almost gone, Rosco and Parker head on their way. But not before Parker gives me a new phrase to try out: "choke fuck". I like the ring to it, it's offensive on so many levels - so I phoned a lady friend to come out and tell if she doesn't I'll choke fuck her. She says that she doesn't know how to respond. I tell her that I would suggest going with the response that won't get her choke fucked. She agrees to come out.

So Liz, Howard, and I continue our journey and we make our way over to Kaylee's birthday party. Her brother is also having a keg party at the same time. Everywhere I looked I saw jail-time. Fast forward, blah, blah, blah, few more drinks, and off to Ranchmen's with Bryce, Meals, Joe, Erin, and others I can't remember!

This is where the memory gets a little sketchy. But I'll try my best with the help of fellow witnesses:

Joe says:
Started from a kegger at Kaylee's place, then we all went to Ranchmans. First we waited at the front door, then heard everyone else was at the side door, then the bouncer at the side door said go to the front door. After that, none of the following statements can be guaranteed...and Kaylee, go shorty it's your birthday, we partied like it's your birthday. I saw a really great mullet, but for fear of personal safety I didn't point. Kent got a bunch of us shooters, so I got him one from the skankly shooter girl (the same one that ripped my shirt open last time I was there, and Corey's brother slept with). I found out later on that she told Kent he didn't tip her enough on the shooters. This really burns my star because the prices are over inflated as it is, and the shooters are served in a pill bottle about half the size of a true ounce.

Anyways, Kaylee and I two stepped for the first time, and for the first time I was the one with more rhythm. Kent's hat got lost, I found it, lost it again, and was never found. I gave the guy in the bathroom a tip because a guy was making fun of him (you know the guy who hives you a squirt of soap and paper towel for a living). Kaylee thought it would be a good idea to put ice cubes down the back of the guy sitting behind her. Bryce and Corey picked up phone numbers, however, I can't remember what they looked like so I can't comment on how much or how little beer goggles had an effect on them. Results are still pending. I vaguely remember telling off some 18 year old guys. They were making kicking motions at Kaylee's butt when she was bent over to look for Kent's hat. It was such a noble cause I had to give 'em hell. R-erin gave us a ride home...Thanks R-erin!

Howard says:
Somehow on Friday thing what normally made sense didnt and what normally was pretty weird all of a sudden was perfectly normal.

Take for instance Kaylee who on a regular basis is so straight and sober she makes a nun look like a rebellious child. Well there she is whooting like shes on girls gone wild, rubbing whip cream in peoples faces and practicing her best impression of a Jennifer Lopez booty shake. Then when Mr. Kent Koyotee himself has something important to tell me and he doesnt want anyone else to hear instead of sitting closer, we end up sitting underneath the table. Kent grins and confesses "Women mean nothing to me". Ten minutes of mindless drunken banter follow, and we eventually come up from under the table like that was the most normal thing in the world.

Gerri says:
What happens when you plan a lazy night of watching movies at home? . . .Kobi calls!

Of course, resisting Kent’s charm is impossible so I agree to a night of drinking and 2 stepping simply because he flattered me with "you have to come out, I want to hug you." (1st line of bullshit) Says he will call me when he is done work, and they will pick us up at 7:00. . . . at 8:00 me and Cortney finally decide to go out on our own.

Apparently Kent is going through a case of schizophrenia, because at 9:00 I get an angry call saying that I better be at Ranchmans or else my throat is going to be slit. But, oh no, that was not enough of a threat, he continued by saying that if I didn’t come "choke fucking" would be the consequence. (Prior flattery is no longer in my mind at this point!) I giggle (cuz I’m scared) and tell him I will see them in an hour. Go to the Ship to meet up with some friends and head for my fate.

Well, Nice Kobi has come to Ranchmans and I get the hug I was promised. Night starts off normally enough; small talk and catching up. We then discuss the possibility of choke fucking and what the sexual basis of it really is. . . and then out come the creep moves. At one point I am being sniffed on the neck by two of them and decide that the other side of the bar might be a good place to be!

As the night goes on, and the tequila starts flowing, Kobi brings out the Love Guns. "Gerri, will you marry me?" I say of course I would, but he is not done. "You know, you are one of the only two girls that I have ever loved." (2nd line of bullshit) "You’re like the coolest chick I know, let’s have babies. You would be the best mom for children." (3rd line of bullshit) I am sure there was more, but I am insulted that in the middle of all of this, he is eyeing up another girl and saying he is going to have babies with her!

We leave the bar a little wobblier, and I have Kent’s hat (which was Jeske’s idea by the way). The next day, at the lack of Kobi’s knowledge of the proposal, I call the engagement off. I still love him though **sniff**

HAHA, that’s my story and I am sticking to it.

Kobi says:
Heard the best line that night from a girl. Here's how thes conversation went:

Girl: "You wanna play some ninetendo .... and maybe make-out after?"
Kobi: "..... what games do you have?"

Experience the worst-case scenario when being at the bar: Having to poop.

After spending about half an hour in what only can be described as like trying to keep a dog inside when it sees a rabbit thru the window, I have to relent my struggle and face the fact that I will have to poop in a bar washroom. ugh.

Hurry Kobi! cuz I'm a commin'!!

So I go in and wait for the toilet (only one fucking toilet). And this old fat cowboy comes staggering out of it .... shudder ... he looks like a disgusting closet pig. Why is he sweating? I get in there and yup, he is disgusting. So I wrap so much toilet paper around my hand that it looks like a small white bale and then proceed to wipe the piss off the seat. There is piss everywhere. Are these people animals? How did they get pee up there? .... and that .... that doesn't look like pee .....

.... that might be enough.

I remeber what my sister said what she does when she has to go in a bar bathroom - so I try to hover over the toilet. But this is ridiculous and I'm drunk. I'm just asking for a really horrible accident. So I sit down .... and am disgusted that it still feels warm from ol fat-cowboy-pig. It's like his ass and my ass have touched now. And how many other asses? I will have to make sure to bleach my ass after this. Maybe I should get tested too ...

Of course the lock is busted. Because EVERY stall door in a bar washroom are broken. It's like an industry standard. They probably order in new doors, then kick the lock in and say "yup, NOW it's ready." So I'm sitting half-cocked to the side, with nervous eyes looking at the feet on the other side, hoping that none of them come over to the door to swing it open and say "ah jesus! ... this guy's taking a poop in a bar washroom! ... A BAR WASHROOM! gross".

artists rendition of my ideal bathroom stall door.

Oh, and according to the wall, "Andrea Sucks Dick". Hey 'Andrea', if you're reading this ... call me. Unless you're a dude .... then don't.

I vow to never do this to myself again.

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