othelladub's Diaryland Diary


He-Man, Skeletor & flower Man-at-Arms

Subtle Definition

So, back to Sacramento -

Friday night the crew went out in force. The groom, me, the New York and Boston contingent, as well as the UCLA homeboy. We went in search of adventure, in search of babes, in search of brews, in search of gutters and spilled drinks and ATM Machines open after 2AM. We looked for Pizza-Pies, upon the Bostonian's request.

The first New Yorker pimped it with Bronzed Silicone-Susie 1A, and Skeletor Suzie 1B. The 2nd New Yorker (along with the groom) made comments under their breath regarding the poor quality of the Skeletor selection (although she approached him, so there was no real selection made on his part). New Yorker 1, New Yorker 2, and the Bostonian encouraged the groom to take the Bronzed Silicone-girl's flowers while she was temporarily absent due to a restroom engagement. I tried to negate this mob mentality, but to no avail. UCLA homeboy was also in the pisser, thus negating my ally in this plea for sanity. Suspicious that he was gone at exactly the same time as Silicone Susie? Hmm.

Interestingly, earlier in the night, UCLA and I had engaged a girl wearing mostly black on the topic of Dick Riordan. She had overheard us, and queried me as to my Riordan-opinion. I said that I thought he'd have been a more attractive choice than Bill Simon, and probably would've beat Gray Davis. She then made small talk with UCLA, and continued on her way, bit-by-bit, into the environs of the club. Her friend was bitchness-personified, but she was mildly inviting, cigarette smoke, black skirt, and all. She vanished into the smokey depths of the club, but UCLA told me later that she had approached him several times with Riordan-esque quieries, perhaps in an attempt to engage his zipper. One never knows.


Anyhow, back to the scene of the flower-throwing. So the Bronzed/Large-Bosomed-Betty returned -- and all hell broke loose!! "Where the fuck are my flowers!!," she shrieked. (This being a hot topic for her, seeing as she had, earlier in the night, lectured the assembled masses on the questionable masculinity of men who wouldn't hold her flowers for her, going on a further tirade regarding tampons and applicators and who knows what else.) UCLA and I were attempting to ascertain the authenticity of her breasts, and thus engaged in not-so-subtle subterfuge, occassionally nodding, and prodding her on with a "yes," "um-hmm," or "fascinating." (Normally this might be reprehensible or less-than-admirable behavior, but given the subject, we were inoculated from any suggestion of wrongdoing, or crassness, instead balancing the scales of justice, wherein large-breasted sallys dominate the verbal landscape.)

So anyhow - she had returned, discovered the absence of her beloved flowers, and raised quite a ruckus, only to exit to another section of the bar, leaving her whereabouts unknown.

Momentarily -

A HUGE, MASSIVE, HULKING muthafucka entered our range of vision. The creature had no neck. His head was huge, along with bulging biceps, pecs, and waistband. This creature, apparently, had bought Busty Bessy's bevy of beautiful flowers, and he was -

well, PISSED!

He threatened the groom, whom he only outweighed by several hundred pounds. At this point, Boston valiantly intervened, claiming that the flower-tossing idea was his. Chest-puffing ensued, and it appeared that all present from the wedding party were about to face certain death. Sure, there were seven of us, but this motherfucker was HUGE!! I cannot overemphasize the size of this no-neck, steroid-abusing, monosyllabic freak. It was unreal!

Astoundingly, we were saved from this fate by suave New-Yorker 1A, who, pulling his best "Trent"-from-Swingers act certifiably saved our asses. Big time. He deftly manuevered the terrain of the small-brained meathead, arguing convincingly that we were all out to have a good time, and that tomorrow was our friend's wedding, and very tenderly eliciting a calming of tensions, with a hypnotic argument which avoided bodily decimation.

After that, we were all ok with the Skeletor thing.

She was actually pretty cute, if underfed.

12:59 a.m. - 2003-05-25


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