Who Am I?

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A nobody; a nitwit; a pilot; a motorcyclist; a raconteur; a lover...of life - who loves to laugh, who tries to not take myself (or anything) too seriously...just a normal guy who knows his place in the universe by being in touch with my spiritual side. What more is there?

21 June 2014

The Mayor's Boobs

I shouldn’t write about this, but I won’t mention any names, not even of the town we were in. So maybe nobody will know.

We were in this joint, see, a hangout that is a real, honest-to-God dive bar. Scuzzy. A place that even the Hell’s Angels would pass up because just peeing in the bathroom is so disgusting. Ugh. I mean, I’m not really too picky when it comes to where I pee, but seriously, I’d rather pee outside at this place. And I often do.

Anyway, it was crowded – so crowded that the bartender started running out of liquors you’d assume every bar would have plenty of, especially on a busy weekend. And you do not want to drink draft beer – God only knows what’s growing in those taps that haven't been cleaned since the Nixon administration. So bottled beer it is. Nevertheless, the crowd was in a raucous good mood and was having a grand ol’ time. Okay, let’s not sugarcoat it: We were all drunk. But hey, it was a bar not a friggin’ church.

It was getting late. Someone exhorted a nice-looking woman near me into lifting her shirt and displaying the goods…and she obliged!

Turns out it was the mayor.

That’s right, the mayor. Hey, now there’s a politician who knows how to give the constituents what they want. Finally! She happened to be facing right at me when this happened. It was impressive…err, they were impressive. Err, whatever. Oddly, nobody seemed all that shocked/appalled/disturbed/upset.

I’m certainly no prude, but at that point I figured that it was probably a good time for Bob to head for the house. Not that I don’t like a good party, but things were kind of getting out of hand, so to speak. We didn’t have to worry about the cops arriving; there isn’t even a local P.D. in this particular town. But you know…you gotta draw a line somewhere. I’d seen enough. Literally. And it was late. Or early, depending on what you call 3 a.m. I rounded up some others who’d also had enough. We had a long drive home. Luckily I wasn’t driving. Unluckily, the guy who was driving was only slightly less drunk than I was. Thankfully there’s nobody else on these roads at that hour of the night/morning. Seriously, I don’t think we saw one other car on the way home. This really is the Middle of Nowhereville.

Next day there was the requisite, ”Oh man, you should’ve stayed!” from my friends who did. Not only did the mayor flash her tits a second time (cementing her reelection, I’m certain), but she did it with another, similarly well-endowed woman who didn't want to feel left out and joined in the fun. Two pair. Dammit! I wondered if the other woman was running for political office too. I would've liked to have checked out her...umm...qualifications. There were reportedly even more tawdry shenanigans after we left involving two local boys in the strangely tolerant crowd, but since this is a family blog I’ll spare you the sordid rumors. Let’s just say I’m glad we left when we did.

Just when I think that nothing exciting or unusual ever happens to me… But the summer is still young! I can’t wait to see what other things are yet to be revealed.