This night was impressively bad. This is why I fear if I stay in Los Angeles, I may be single forever.
First off the 6 foot 3 guy next to us decides that once the game starts, he needs to stand up. In front of us. And block the TV. And then he makes the wise decision to use one of the only available barstools (which he had been sitting on prior to the beginning of the game) for his jacket, even though there were people who arrived over an hour prior to the game who couldn’t get a seat. So he stood there with his equally tall fucktard buddy throughout the whole game. In front of the barstool. Which held his jacket. And no person. His jacket must have been exhausted after a long day at work and needed to lie down. Clearly it needed the bar stool much more than I did. Or the woman standing to the side of the bar on crutches with a torn ACL.
At halftime these two TV-blocking, jacket coddling genii decide they should leave and go to a strip club. They both had wedding rings (which did not stop them from flirting with any girl within a 15 foot radius) and were planning on sneaking off to a strip club, figuring they could just watch the game there. But then they couldn’t remember if the strip club had TVs, so they started to get distressed and in the end, stayed at the bar. Lucky me.
Then there was the guy we’d been standing next to for two hours prior to the game. He would get up to smoke, and each time we’d watch his seat until he got back. For two hours. He probably got up 4 times. He came back reeking of smoke and shit, which made us think that he may have been smoking his own log of poop. Either way, we were rather nice to him and watched his seat every time he left. Sometime around the 2nd quarter, some random chick comes up to the bar to order a drink. She was not only half his age but also had a boyfriend, yet for some unknown reason the guy gave her his seat for an hour, just to be nice. He said he didn’t want her to have to stand. Um, what about us, the three women who have been watching your bar stool for the last two hours while you go out and smoke your own turds? Did you ever ask if we were tired of standing? Not really. The best part is that he kept waving at the TV, as if Kobe Bryant could see him through the magic screen, recognize him, and then wave back. Brilliant.
Okay, now let me go back to this bitch who pissed me off on the way there. I’m waiting to turn left, but there are people in the crosswalk. Not only are there people in the crosswalk, there is an elderly woman with a walker, inching across the street like a snail. Now of all the people I might run over, I would feel most bad about running over this person, as just the sight of my car could give her a heart attack and sneezing too close to her might break a hip and either could be her demise. So I wait patiently for her to cross the street before I turn. Meanwhile, some crazy bitch in a minivan behind me starts honking at me to turn. Clearly I can’t do this. I will kill the walker-lady. But she keeps honking. So I turn around and ask what the fuck her problem is, and she waves me along, telling me to turn. Meanwhile the old lady is still in my direct path. So this crazy bitch decides she will try to make the turn by going around me and then driving on the wrong side of the street to avoid hitting the woman. Apparently this was what I was supposed to do as well. At the next stop light, she pulled up to me with her window down. I asked her if she made a habit of trying to kill pedestrians or if today was a super special day and she was celebrating somehow. She just grinned at me with her crazed bitch minivan look. The person in the passenger side (presumably her son) rolled up the windows, but she kept staring at me with this insane Starbucks-overdose look. So I took her photo. My mother says people are going to vandalize my car if I do that. But I don’t think these people would waste a moment of their precious lives on little ol’ me.
Okay, so back to the bar.
Of course then a guy came up to me and started threatening me for taking photos of strangers and said he’d throw me out of the bar. He didn’t work there. How he was going to throw me out (he wouldn’t even be able to literally throw me out as he was scrawny and I could totally take him), I have no clue. Then we realized that this was the possible frotterism freak who was standing in the middle of the bar literally groping women as they walked by. No wonder he was so upset. He thought I’d caught him in a middle of a sex offense and was going to email the photos to his probation officer. I took 3 photos of him for good measure, basically to dare him to throw me out of the bar. He looked like he was going to cry and then walked away. He’s a pervtard.
To make this night even better, the Lakers blew an 8 billion point lead to lose the game. Then a whole bunch of drunk fake blonds feigned distress and started hanging all over random bar guys. I hear a dick in the mouth is a good remedy for disappointment. I also noticed that none of these girls were even watching the game until the last 2 minutes of regulation. I would wonder why they come to a very crowded sports bar in the first place if they don’t care about basketball, but then I realized you can’t expect drunk hos to function within reasonable limits so it’s best not to try to apply logic to their actions.
Oh Los Angeles. What am I going to do with you?
