Monday, September 22nd, 2008
It’s a month away from Halloween, but there were loads of shrills last night. After we finished watching the football game last night, Will’s friends were heading over to a local dive. Wanting to get to know his friends, I was all about the idea. His friends are pretty rad as far as I know. I was sitting in the “church pew” with Marga, Mick, and Will and his boys having a fine time.
This obnoxiously loud girl walks up and in her valley girl pitched voice is more than overly excited to see Will. I continue carrying on a conversation with Marga and Mick, though we find it impossible to concentrate because of the shrilling voice blasting from this girl’s mouth. So as I look over at the awkward exchange of gestures between Will and his friend, Shrilla’s hand motions successfully knocked over two freshly ordered bottles of beer. Right into my lap…and all over my bag that I bought in NYC. Sadface.
Trying to be a team player, I go to the restroom to wash off a bit. I hate bar restrooms. I’m sure it looked as if I had pissed all over myself because beer was running down my legs. I wash my arms and legs off, sit back down in the church pew and never really get an apology from Shrilla. Will apologized a bunch, but it really wasn’t his fault.
I pick up where I left off with Marga and Mick in our conversation and they suggest walking over to another bar across the street because by that point, we had started comparing the girl’s voice to a miter saw and she just kept on talking…and talking…and talking. I wanted to leave the first bar 99.9% because my ear drums were bleeding and .1% because I was hoping the other dive had an automatic dryer that I could use so that I didn’t have to sit in a wet skirt and underwear for the rest of the night. I tell Will where we’re heading. He was going to hang out with his friends for a little while longer, which was cool.
Somewhere along the way, on the walk across the street, we pick up a guy named Rainwater, who Marga and I had met once before. [Sidenote: Rainwater is his real name.] As we’re waiting for Marga and Mick to catch up, Rainwater asks me what my full name is…which contains a name that is obviously from German decent (and not half as cool as Rainwater). He then precedes to ask me if I am Jewish. I’m not really sure if he was joking or not.
We make it across the street. We hung out for a bit; Will came finally to take me home.
What a night!
If I ever see Shrilla again, I will empty out the nearest beer bottle and shove it in her mouth. Though I’m sure a high pitch sound like that can break glass.
“It’s close To Midnight and Something Evil’s Lurking in The [bar].
Under The [neon] light, you See A Sight That Almost Stops Your Heart.
You Try To Scream, But Terror Takes The Sound Before You Make It.
You Start To Freeze, As Horror Looks You Right Between The Eyes,
You’re Paralyzed…This is Shrilla!”
