Good morning, really? Motherfucker i am Googling hangover remedies. Can you take your chirpy self further away from my pounding headache? That would mean the world to me. Thank you. I am literally asleep on my feet. Not to mention the yawning. I’ve been going at it for a while now. The fact that i am at work hasn’t registered on my poor brain.
Apparently water is a remedy. At least among the list of 11 remedies, i can easily access it. Am not feeling it though. I feel even drunker than i was last night. And my coordination is next to impossible. I bet i will be slurring my speech soon. Perfect! Just the way to get fired. As if i couldn’t do normal stuff, like get on the boss’s bad side to get canned. I had to outdo myself and drag my drunk ass to work. At this point i am really not sure whether i am drunk or hangover.
I have been yawning like a sailor since i set my ample behinds on my seat. Yes they are, don’t gimme that look. Turns out i can still party like a rock star but can’t recover like one. Otherwise I’d be snorting off a line of cocaine off of a crack-whore’s butt. But no, i have to recover like a train-wreck. Typing this is excruciating. Yes i said it. Age finally caught up with me. I can’t pretend anymore. I wonder if i’d be feeling this way had i spend the night getting laid. With the kind of hangover i have, i’d probably be feeling sore and tired as fuck.
Anyhow, it all goes back to last night. The memory is still clear. The scents too.
So me and my friend Kim hit up some sleazy strip joint. At least that’s how they mislead you into going there. With the promise of ass and titties shaking to some exotic music. Well, at least that was my expectation. So we go in. It’s my first time in one of these you see. Kim has a thing for exhibitionists. Me? Am just here for the booze and a lap dance. Well, that was my thought before we walked in. Now i will settle for booze.
The strippers I’ve seen, well, the ones I’ve watched in movies are something else. When you walk into this joint, you’ll be assailed by a cocktail of thoughts and emotions. My first thought was, that chic can do more justice to that pole. My friend shared the same opinion. Well, in our defense we’ve watched too much and our expectations were higher than the empire state building. I’ve heard people say that. Not that i know crap about the building, or its existence .
We down bottle after bottle of alcohol. At least they start looking better with every sip. One has a very large body with love-handles to match. She is on six-inch heels she bought from some hawker. No. I am not judging, i know genuine and fake. She can dance though. She can shake the fat right off that pole. There are some skinny girls in there too. One looks like she just joined campus. This hustle is not for the faint-hearted.
And so it goes on and on. The good dancer with curves comes over. If love-handles qualify as curves so to speak. Don’t hate on me…i am just having a bad day so am simply going to run my mouth.
“Is he your boyfriend?”, she asks , about Kim.
“No. no…he is my friend”, I reply
At this point i find him looking at her derriere, which is clad in a pink thong with ruffles. I had earlier asked him what part of the female anatomy he is into, and he had avoided answering the question. I guess i just found out the answer to that.
She starts dancing before him, then slowly bends, in what could have been seductive had she been confident and a little bit more graceful about it. Leave it to her to make the move look so vulgar. We exchange glances and frown…she sits on his lap, with all the weight on her I secretly wince and pity Kim considering he is so slim I thought he’d immediately crumble. He survives it, and even seems to be enjoying the lap-dance.
She is giggling and giving me a pretty weird look. It’s supposed to look sexy I suppose. It comes out creepy. I smile harmlessly at her lest she freak out and stop giving Kim the time of his life. Am drinking straight from the bottle. Here they don’t give you a glass. Plus the way I am dressed up, I almost look like a boy. That could be the reason.
I have on these studded boots, skinny jeans, a baggy tee and a very large hood that I wore unzipped. I don’t sit pretty like a lady. No, I preserve that stupid look for when I am in the office or with strangers. Here I am easy as Sunday morning. My legs are sprawled before me…my head trying to process all the smells, moves, and the assortment of tits and ass in here. I forgot to mention, I have the vocabulary of a sailor…and this seems like the perfect platform for it.
Kim is in heaven. Till the girl decides she’s had enough of him and just ploughs herself right into me. She is smiling from ear to ear. I don’t find it slightly funny. But to make her feel better, I just nod away at the music. She gets up immediately and while I am wondering if I have offended her, she takes my hand and off to the dance floor.
We dance a bit. She is towering over me with those heels I can’t stand.
She starts talking and giggling when the wake of her perfume strikes me like a dead dog. She has on one of these pungent perfumes. It assails my senses in ways unimaginable. I think its smell will always haunt me. I can’t describe it, but I can tell it’s pretty cheap and she must have showered in it because it smells all over her. It is acrid.
She says I dance well. Almost better than her. I smile. She smiles too. She wants me to come dance with them. Are you fucking kidding me!!! I almost choke on my drink. Do you work? She asks. Yes I do, I reply. Too bad. You are a way better dancer than most of the girls here. Coming from a stripper, that’s a huge compliment. The dancing part, silly. The fact that she thinks I’ll fit with them is really questionable though.
I forgot to mention, I am the only girl there apart from the strippers. The spectators are all men. We buy her a drink and she is off to dish on more flattery for the night.
To reassure some old man that he still has it. That his is the biggest dick these sides of the world. That his touch makes her want to screw his brains out. That his big belly makes him look adorable. That his foul breath on her neck is an aphrodisiac on its on. That he is harder than a rock, even when the poor fool can’t get it up for a glass of water in the desert. As the bloody fool opens his wallet and takes out his daughter’s school fees to pay for the stroke on his ego. He needs it bad you know. His wife no longer does that. She just hurls bitter words at him and couldn’t touch him with a pole. So the night goes on, ego-stroking and more dancing. She’ll go pay the rent and buy more of the pungent perfume.
It’s the witching hour. That’s three o’clock for you clueless angels. I feel slightly tipsy. Kim is in a trance. He is hypnotized by some young’un doing wonders to the pole. Her ass is swaying to some beat, I stare. Then remember, I have to be at work in the morning. I nudge Kim out of his trance.
“We should go”, I tell him.
“What’s the time?”, he says looking at his wrist watch.
“Fuck it, let’s get outta here”, he exclaims.
The town is already deserted. The streets are littered with the homeless pulling their blankets tightly to protect them from the harsh cold.
Morning comes with my head pounding. I take a cold shower looking at the clock. It’s already 6.30. The smell of breakfast makes me dizzy. So I skip it and take the bus. I jam my earphones on trying to wake my brain to no avail. I couldn’t stay alert for a million bucks right now.
I scribble a few lines on my notebook trying to be awake so I don’t miss my stop…here is part of it.
“Cold water doesn’t really wipe out a hangover. You know the way people say , take a cold shower and you’ll feel god in no time? The people I know say that, don’t act shocked. It doesn’t help you feel any better. So I have my earphones jammed deep into my ears, blasting one of the creepy songs on my playlist. Suffice to say my eyelids won’t keep open for a million bucks today”
That’s all I wrote I swear. Good way to start the morning. So here I am, in front of my computer…with a pounding headache and sleepy as hell. Kim and his chirpy ass just called to scream obscenities at me for last night as if it was my brilliant idea to go drinking midweek. He sounds saner than I feel. For that I hate him.
Dear coworker lets skip the pretentious but extremely chirpy “Good morning” today, can we?
I wrote this post a while back in my heady days. Just finally gave it a slight polish and decided to stick it on this shelf. It’s a bit forlorn among the mushy and erotic stuff i at times post, but what the heck. Sit it out lonely post.