Misadventures of the Village Idiot #12

My weekend was actually kind of lame, but I guess it’s good to just sit my ass down somewhere and take a chill pill.  I’m always ripping and running of late.

Friday, I got off work about an hour early and came home for my usual afternoon siesta.  For some reason, I was actually looking forward to going to Ascension.  Maybe because it was warm.  I don’t know.  Too bad by the time I got down town in Baltimore, the idiotic Orioles game had just let out and it took me almost an hour to get from Russell Street to Pratt Street.  I don’t really pay much attention to hockey, or whatever.

Baseball.  Whatever the fuck they play at Orioles Stadium.

You know, I would appreicate if someone would let me know when major sporting events occur, so I can avoid the mass of drunken white people.  You know I am the last one to be racist, since I clown people of all races, but never underestimate the power of stupid drunk white people in large groups.  I was sitting at a red light on the corner of Pratt and … maybe Sharp Street when a Corolla inched up next to me.  I felt like I had been in my car since last Friday, and the woman in the back seat of the Corolla looked like she had done the economy package at the local tanning bed.  She was brown as shit, literally.  She was hanging out of the back window, vomiting.  When she saw me she said, “Are you having fun?”

Yeah, because watching you puke is the highlight of my life.  My life is now complete.

At the next intersection, the truck next to me was full of teenage boys who were completely trashed who decided to clap along to the song that was playing in my car.  It happened to be Hocico – Spit As An Offense.  Not really a sing-a-long type song.  I’m sure only one of you actually knows what I’m talking about, but it’s more a like a song that would be used in some foreign slasher movie, not at Barney’s Sing-a-Long.

I finally arrive at the club.  My weird friend Dennis showed up a little after I did.  After careful analysis, I have given him permission to speak to me.  As you all know, I have made it my point in life to not socialise with people at the club.  If someone talks to me I usually give them a dirty look or say something bitchy so they will go away.  Dennis is unperturbed by my bitchiness and continues talking no matter what I say to him.  This is perplexing to me; most people don’t like bitches.  But since he has succeeded in confusing me, I guess I should give him a prize:  the joy of speaking to me.

At any rate, he asked for my real name again.  I didn’t say he was going home with the whole kit and caboodle.  I’m not giving some weirdo I met in Pratt Street my real name, although he can be cute in a Jewish stalkerish kind of way.

I must be really getting desperate.

Saturday morning greeted me with depressing news.  Midnight was closed thanks to some idiotic shoot out at the club.  (Not-so-)Ironically, the shoot out did not involve freaks and it didn’t happen on freak night.  Earlier in the week, two people had a disagreement.  I don’t know if anybody was killed, but DC shuts clubs down while they investigate if there is a shooting, or some such.

And this is why I contend that freak clubs are way better than mainstream clubs.  In all my years of clubbing with freaks, I have never seen a fight, a shoot out, or anything involving freaks.  I have been to freak clubs in Arizona, California, New York, Florida, Georgia, Baltimore, DC and Pennsylvania.  That’s a lot of freak clubs, and none of them have ended in a night of violence.

But the crazy thing is, every time I tell someone I am going to a goth club, they look at me like I said I’m going to shoot up heroin and drink blood for the evening.  People ask me questions like, “Don’t you guys do a lot of drugs in clubs like that?” or “Is it like one of those headbanger clubs where you jump in the mosh pit and beat each other up?” or “I saw a club like that in a movie, it’s like where people go and pretend they are vampires.”


Yeah, but in my years of clubbing at normal clubs… let’s see here.  Events I have witnessed:

** DV8:  Tucson, AZ, 1999:  I got hit in the head with a beer bottle by a frat boy when a bar fight broke out.
** Paradome:  Jacksonville, FL 2001:  I was forcibly removed from a club that was being raided.  A huge girl-on-girl gang fight broke out and the club had to be shut down by a SWAT team.
** Choices:  Baltimore, MD 2004:  The club was shut down after some guy stormed into the club trying to shoot the place up.
** Crossroads:  Bladensburg, MD 2005:  The club was shut down after a couple of guys had a shootout in the parking lot.
** H20:  Washington DC 2006:  Once again, the club was shut down after a huge fight started over some girl’s coat at the coat check.

But everybody is scared of the freaks.

Anyway, when I read that Midnight was closed, I was sad.  What would I do with my Saturday evening?  I thought about going to Spellbound, but it’s further down L Street, the parking is worse, the cover is higher and the music is much more shittier.  I made it a Blockbuster night.  I watched all three Lord of the Rings and tried to watch all six Star Wars.  I skipped number one because it sucks so bad, but fell asleep somewhere in the middle of the third one.  When I woke up the next morning, the credits of number six was playing.  (I have a five disc DVD changer).  Whatever.

But earlier in the day, I was shopping.  Everyone here knows my intense dislike for unruly, misbehaving children.  I feel no qualms about disciplining other people’s children if they cannot take the intiative.  I declared Saturday 19 April, Screaming Children Day in America.  Everywhere I went, some kid was screaming his brains out.  I was trying to buy a weight rack in Wal-Mart but my eardrums were pierced by the high decible screaming of this 4 year old boy.  He was trying to play with a can of paint, but his mother wouldn’t let him and he just wouldn’t shut the fuck up.  I left without buying my weight rack.

Then I went to Macy’s because they were having a One Day Sale, and I’m always trying to find appropriate shoes for work.  They had some cute clothes and since I’m losing a little bit of weight, I thought I’d try some on for shits’n’giggles.  So I’m in the dressing room trying on clothes.  I was just taking off a pair of pants when the dressing room door opened.  This Macy’s doesn’t have locks, just those magnet things.  The girl who opened the door was about 6 or 8 years old.  I screamed at her to shut the door since I was ass up.  You know, I might be losing a little bit of weight, but I’m not a Victoria Secret model yet.  The whole world doesn’t need to see my fat ass.

The problem was there were about 8 kids hanging out in front of the dress room, ranging in ages from 5 to about 12.  They belonged to two women who were in the dressing room, going on about how fat they were and how embarassed they would be to go in public wearing whatever it is they were trying on, while their fucking kids were screaming like idiots.  I yelled at the girl to shut the door and then I screamed, “Control your fucking kids!”

And that’s when it all started.

Lady:  Who said that?
Me:  I did.  Control your goddamn kids.  They are out there screaming like a bunch of retards.  Other people are trying to shop.
Lady:  Sorry.  She didn’t know what she was doing.
Me:  She’s like 8.  What is she, a retard?
Lady:  No, hey, leave us alone.
Me:  Tell your goddamn kids to leave me alone.

Silence for a minute.  They started speaking in Spanish.

Lady:  What do you want us to do?  Put our kids in day care so we can shop?

They start laughing.

Me:  Here’s a thought… why don’t you try disciplining them, so when you take them in public they don’t act like assholes?  And here’s another thought, why don’t you try going on a diet so you’re not “embarassed to come out in public.”  I bet if you ran around as much as your wild ass kids, you would be thinner than Calista Flockhart.


I got dressed and came out of the dressing room.  I didn’t even bother trying on the other stuff I had because I was pissed.  When I came out the main door, the kids were CARTWHEELING in front of door and one of them knocked over a mannequin.  That one was like 12.  The crazy thing was there was actually an older lady with them, supposedly watching them.  When she saw me she started laughing, you know that little nervous laugh when you’re really embarassed?  Yeah, like that.  Then she said, “Kids.”  I was like, “Yeah, and you are sitting there letting them act like zoo animals.”

See, shit like that makes me want to drink.

Anyway, that was pretty much the highlight of my weekend.  Since I didn’t stay out all night Saturday I was actually able to wake up at a decent hour on Sunday, do some aerobics and get a lot of things done around the house.  I got the new Mariah Carey CD.  I’m going to have to do a music review for you.

I washed my car finally.

Do you know it’s been more than two years since I washed my car?  And what do you know!  It rained the next day.


I’m such a dumbass, cuz it’s not like I don’t sit and watch Weather Channel for hours.  I’m addicted to that shit.

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