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Lazily, I hefted my headache having whore ass out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. I pulled my panties down and emptied the only three drops remaining in my dried out bladder. After flushing, I pulled myself to the sink to wash up. That’s when I saw it.

A Clockwork Orange.

That’s right. I had one black eye. Not a bruise mind you, but it was covered in eyeshadow and eyeliner…Just one. As I scratched my head in confusion I felt them, hair pins. What the hell? I guess I was trying to make myself look sexy for someone.

After washing my face I headed back into my bedroom. There in my bed was the idiot I had went on that date with from the internet the night before. He was a ginger.

Wonderful.

“Hey! Guy who’s name I can’t remember.”
“Ya? What?”
“You gotta go.”
“Oh, Ok,” he mumbled as he slowly began gathering his things.

I pointed him to the front door and then went back into the restroom. I needed a bath and I only had an hour before I had to be to work. Just as I stepped inside and felt the warm water comfort my scaley-skin the door swung open.

“You need to drive me to my car!”

UGH!

“What? Get the hell out of here!” I ordered.
“I can’t. You drove us here, remember?” the freckled fucker reminded me.
“What? No I didn’t. Oh, Ya. I guess I did. Give me a minute! I need to get ready for work!” I screamed, hiding my tits under my arms.

“Fine, but hurry the fuck up!” The ginger ordered.

Bits and pieces of the night started stampeding through my loopy brain. Something about stumbling around the streets of Long Beach.

I started laughing out loud when it hit me. Gin-gin drank himself to the point of sickness. He released a gut full of half digested liquor into a trash can before stumbling onto a vacant carousel and closing his eyes.

That’s right, a carousel.

Myself, being the ever courteous friend, thought perhaps my new buddy would like to go for a little ride. That’s when I did it.

I walked up to the control panel and started pushing buttons. Before I knew it the lights were on, music was bumping and the damn thing had started to spin. Gin-jo hopped off the sparkly horsie ride and tumbled onto the grass below. Luckily, he was too drunk to feel any bodily impact. That’s when security discovered the action.

We high tailed it out of there faster than a pedophile on “To Catch A Predator”.

Afterwards, we went walking back to our cars. Well, to my car. I drove the ginger bread man around for a good 45 minutes looking for his before giving up and bringing him home with me. He was already fast asleep and drooling by then anyway and I didn’t have the heart to leave him alone in a parking garage.

I mean even though he was a dirty ginger, he might still have had feelings.

This, however, did not explain my morning appearance. I looked over to the sink to see the open bottle of Ambian.

Damn, I really should STOP talking that shit.

I was giggling to myself, enjoying the recollection when a text message came in and my phone beeped. I ignored it and continued my soak. The beeping continued. Out of annoyance, I eventually leaned in and grabbed it.

It was the gin man:

“Hurry up. I need to get out of here.”

“What’s taking you so long, Bitch?”

“Did you pass out in there?”

“I said HURRY!”

OMG, this guy was so annoying.

I turned off my phone and then took my sweet ass time. Eventually, I drove the red rodent back to his car.

After dropping off the ungrateful bastard, I grabbed my phone and dialed my friend, Red. She HAD to hear about this, it was fucking HILARIOUS!

My call went straight to voicemail, that was strange. I dialed again, again, voicemail. I hung up and then began to send my friend a text message when it happened.

I looked up from my phone just in time to see the truck in front of me, five feet in front of me, completely stopped.

There was nothing I could do.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!

I hit the vehicle with blunt force. My car pounded into the back of the pickup which then pushed the truck into the car in front of it.

Not my kind of three-way. Not at all.

With my ears ringing, I pulled my face out of the air bag and opened the passenger door. I tried standing only to immediately fall onto the hot pavement. What the hell? I looked down, my shoe straps had been ripped off on impact. I still had my cell phone in hand.

In a daze I looked down at my cell phone, it was literally busted in half.

Damn it.

“You dumb little cunt!” A voice yelled out.

I looked to my left. An enormous beast with a grey mullet was flying towards me with a speed she probably hadn’t reached since 1979.

OH SHIT!

“Why did you hit my car? Why did you do this to me, you fucking bitch!”

“It was an accident,” I tried explaining, “I was on my phone and..”

She cut me off, “You are crazy! You are trying to kill me! What did I ever do to you?”

WTF?

The mammoth mound of white trash came hurdling towards me. I kicked off what was left of my shoes and high tailed it across the street.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The beast was bashing in the remains of my vehicle with her puffy fists.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

To my left, there was a man standing on the sidewalk, phone in hand, with his jaw hanging down past his nipples. He had witnessed the whole thing and was now in more shock than I was, having been an actual part of the action.

Okay, the cause of the action.

“Hey, can I borrow your phone?” I asked him, “Mine broke in half,” I said pushing the pieces of my destroyed device into his blank face.

The man ignored my movements but handed his phone to me anyway, without even looking away from the beastly Buick basher across the street. She was still going to town on my car. Whatever, I could see it was totaled anyway.

I needed a margarita.

As I started to dial Reds number, I noticed that both my thumb nails had been ripped off from the crash.

Listen, I probably could have lived with a totaled car, but why, oh why, God? Why did you have to also take from me that day, my shoes, my cell phone and my fresh manicure?

I will never understand.

Red eventually showed up and carted my ass to Acapulco for an afternoon of margaritas on HER tab. She owed me. I mean, this was all her fault anyway. As it turned it, my calls went to voicemail, because she was calling me at the exact same time I was calling her.

The car I owned after this one was totaled too, but I already told you that story.

—————————————————————————————————————-

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3 thoughts on “Boom Boom Boom, Ginger In My Room

  1. Pingback: A Compilation of Bad Dates! | It's not my fault.

  2. Hahaha, woah. Weird shit happens to you often. Drinking with you would be fun… and potentially lead to an arrest. (Could be your fault, could be mine)… Haha.
    Btw, I fucking would like to operate a carousel too !
    And gingers are hot.

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