I don't wanna own 'em, darlin'; I just want to rent them for a dollar

This last weekend I accompanied my cousin Luke on a business trip to Indianoplace to help (watch) him load a van with some stuff from their warehouse up there. The hotel and gas was free, so the only real cost was beer and dinner.





So, we (he) got the work done and we each got a 12 pack for to drink in the hotel room, which started, and I don't think I'm exaggerating here, before the door shut behind us.



Dinner at Longhorn's (eat steak, eat steak, eat a big ole steer), and then back to the hotel, and sweet shit in a bucket I'm glad he was driving and not me. We got behind a fifo that couldn't drive a hard dick into a bucket of lard. Of course I got to exercise my vocabulary even though I wasn't the one behind the wheel. No-one can keep me from giving an exhibition of my talents when on the road.

The next stop was drinking beer in the lobby of the hotel waiting for a cab to take us downtown to a hockey game.


The Indianapolis Ice are a junior team, and in their program I found the line, "Players use this level to hone their skills and move up to the NHL." The line should have read, "This team wins by accident. Expect bad hockey. Players at this level wish they'd taken their guidance counselors' advice and gone to college. You're just here for the beer and the fights anyway, so just shout and act like you're having a good time."

The beer was cold, and because it was a family outing for most, I only had one beer per period in order to keep my mouth in check (try not to faint), until the middle of the third period, when I had two because sales were about to be cut off.

Ice fans were happy as their goalie let in fewer shots than the other team by the time the buzzer sounded. Lets see...where should we go next...movie? No. The Irish Pub? No. On to- THE RED GARTER!

This is where this one, ahem, lady sat down next to cousin Luke and proceeded to wear his ear out with some sob story mean, I'm sure to get him (and me, when I wasn't leaving his ass behind to go tip some lovely at the stage) to buy dances. Her stage name was Natasha (Now back to moose and squirrel), and she was laying it on thick about wanting to get custody of her kid back from her mom, who believes she is an un-fit mother. I asked her if she were in school and trying to get another job. This next exchange is lovely. First her answer:

"No."

"Then you're probably an unfit mother."

"What? How can you say that. You don't know me."

"Don't plan to, either. I'm just saying that you don't seem to be trying to make a better life for your kid."

"I DO want a better life for my kid."

"Wantin' and doin' are two different things, darlin. I suggest you leave your kid with your mom."

I then left to sample some folk dancing while Boobsie Bolschvic remained to pester Luke. It turns out that she was rubbing his sweaty-ass chest hair the whole time I was gone. Oooooh.

At $5 a beer, we only stayed for about two hours. On the way out, we asked the dude at the bar to call a cab for us. When we made it outside, I saw a mini-van cab out side. We got in, and the cabbie said rather sternly, "I'm waiting for some people who called." So, being just a lot inebriated, I said, "yeah that's us."

He then said that he had to go pick someone else up, and that he'd take us to the hotel after that. Well, we pull up to the front of some building where inside was this early twenty-something having a rather spirited discussion on the phone.

"You want me to go get her? I asked laughingly."

"Nah. She'll be out is a minute."

When she opened the door, she was complaining up one side and down another about her boyfriend and other retarded shit. We got to the hotel, and the cabbie asked what the other driver had charged us, so I cut the rate by a third, handed him the cash, and went up to the room, where I proceeded to drop a full beer smack dab in the middle of the room.

Gotta love travel.