Cheap Drunk Sloppy Bitch

Harsh words I know but I am referring to myself. That is the title I gave myself over the weekend as Steve and I spent time with his friends in a cabin in MO. It started with cheap.

Steve, Jeff (our host), and myself were dining at a local restaurant chain. It was a cross between TGIF and Applebees only with live entertainment (sort of). In the bar area was a karoake machine with two women performing together. It really was awful but at least in a kitschy way that was somehow entertaining. They were excruciatingly great. As one would sing Sheryl Crow's "Walk on the Sun" the other would do bits about sunless tanning lotion. They reminded me of the Sweeney Sisters from the old SNL skit.

This was Friday night and we had just learned that Luther Vandross had died. We asked our dippy waitress if they could ask the "karoake duo" to sing "Superstar" in Luther's honor. The waitress did not know Luther Vandross or Karen Carpenter. What is wrong with today's youth?

Finally at the end of our meal, we were presented with the check. Steve was going to pay but he forgot his wallet back at the cabin. I stepped up to bat. I should have paid for all three meals but when I saw Jeff pull out his card at the same time as me, I immediately blurted out for the waitress to split the bill 2/3 to me and 1/3 to Jeff. This request really fucked the waitress' mind.

Later we joked about the dumb waitress but what about me letting our host pay his portion? The man opens his doors to us and I can't pick up his lousy $22 meal? It must be the starving artist inside that never goes away. You are always watching your pennies and being frugal but I felt like a cheap bitch.

Next came Drunk. Saturday was fun out in the woods. Steve and I messed around a bit and met up with my former student at Freddie's, a popular St. Louis gay bar. Unfortunately, I had too many beers. I have been on antibiotics for two weeks and I hadn't had alcohol...As you can imagine, it went straight to my head. It didn't help that I got high and had more beers back at the cabin. I felt sick and gross. Dinner didn't help. It just made me more ill. I ended up going to bed feeling nauseous and embarrassed. Thus I became the Cheap Drunk Bitch.

Finally, on Sunday at the party I just couldn't help spilling drinks on my shorts. Maybe I was doing my own homage to the wet boxer contest, I don't know. But if it was liquid, it was going on my shorts on Sunday. Later that evening, I was in charge of the fireworks. Fireworks are messy. By the end of the fireworks, I was the spotted mess of a gay black man. It was at our breakfast at the Waffle House (which we ate everyday)that I spilt hot tea on myself and christened myself Sloppy Bitch.

By Monday I was just one cheap drunk sloppy bitch.