There are many fictional characters walking among us… perhaps I should first explain the term so fondly adopted many moons ago. Just so we are queer and clear.
You all have that one friend who is a little “kooky”, the whack job, the one where the craziest weirdest shit happens to them right? You know that one friend you always tell stories about as you are sitting around your local softball diamond… coffee shop… poetry reading…Local Home Depot…Cat rescue league – wherever it is you go for fun…
It usually goes along these lines:
“What did she do this time?”
“Can you believe she…”
“I have tell you something totally bizarre”
“This shit only happens to her”
“It’s so random you couldn’t even make it up”
“How does she get into these situations?”
“She’s like a daytime mini series”
“She should write a movie”
“If I didn’t know her, I wouldn’t believe it myself”
That, my friends is a fictional character.
I am here to report that in my social group there isn’t just one fictional character. We are a self professed band of fictional characters. Drawn together possibly because like seeks like and birds of a feather make each other sneeze or some such shit…. Even though there are many of us, we definitely have two individuals that stand head and shoulders above the rest. For every crazy story and weird encounter our group may have, these two have us beat – just by walking to the mailbox.
One of the dynamic duo rented a third floor from me, we shared a kitchen and a stairwell. Our second heroine may as well have lived with us – since these compadres went almost everywhere together.
You have to first understand that these two individuals are card carrying members of the boy club. One of whom professes to have been raised by wolves. The other: Captain of one of the first women’s professional football teams. It was near impossible to lose a game with her on the defense line… (No idea if my terminology is correct – but hell I gave it a shot). You get the idea… to look at them you’re not thinking… pansy girls.
Note: I am not an athlete – nor an athletic supporter.
Our Captain Character, CC, hadn’t had a date in almost two years. Needless to say her pent up energy was driving everybody nuts…. The story varies – It is said that at CC’s request, I pulled a lovely, petite, dark haired Spanish beauty off the dance floor and forcibly struck some kind of date bargain on my friends’ behalf. It’s not completely out of the realm of possibility. However, my version is that I have no recollection of this happening and I had nothing to do with it. It’s an old argument at this point with no possible outcome other than heated debate… so there, now you’re a part of it.
The long and short of it is that CC got a date.
We were all thrilled, probably more so than CC and the Spanish lovely she had the date with. They had agreed to go out to lunch. Many agonizing hours of counsel went into choosing the lunch restaurant; it was a group effort – that’s for sure. We bestowed our blessing on CC and sent her off – hoping and praying she would at least get laid.
The age of cell phones was upon us – thank god I had a friend at the phone company because there were no roll-over minutes yet to be had. The game of telephone began after lunch and a few cocktails.
CC calls to give me the update:
“Lunch was great! We’re gonna go down to the ocean and hang out for the afternoon”
“That’s awesome hun, I’m so proud of you”
“I think she likes me”
“Well call me later and give me the update, ok?”
“Ok!”
A few hours go by and I’m up to my ears in paperwork at the office.
CC, calls while her date is in a store:
“You’re gonna be so proud of me”
“It’s going well then?”
“She’s really cool; we’ve just been hanging out, down the beach”
“See, I told you it would be a piece of cake”
“She’s coming back, I’ll call you later”
“Ok”
I’m just getting ready to head home when I get the third phone call. They are both giggly from a combination of the afternoon beverages and salty beach air. CC, informs me they are off to buy champagne and strawberries and are planning on continuing their date into the evening… To which, I am thanking the stars and proclaiming that there is a God! First dates can be tricky, they really could go either way – but so far this one seemed to have the makings of a really good first date! I make all the right noises and assure CC that she is making the right moves and she should just go with it. We hang up – they head for the strawberries/champagne fast track, I head home.
I’m having dinner with my girlfriend when the next call comes in…. I look at my gf apologetically…. “I have to take it, you know how she is” (high maintenance, needy pillow fluff – butch girls, lol – I had to work it in somewhere).
“Hey! You have to go to your front window”
“What?””Go to your window”
“Honey, I’m eating dinner”
“Please?”
“Aargh, Ok”
I walk to the front room
“Go all the way to the right”
So, there I am – like a fool peering at the empty street outside my house. CC bursts into peels of laughter.
“What is this all about, CC? I don’t see anything!”
“Look up”
“I don’t see anything”
She squeals like a little kid
“I can see you”
“Where”
“In your window, stupid”
I’m so gonna kill her at this point and my gf doesn’t look too happy either.
“Where are you?”
“We’re across the street, walk down to the corner”
So, of course I do because I’m that kind of friend. I walk out of my house, still on the cell phone, and make it to the corner. The street is deserted.
“Look up! Look up! See me waving?”
Then I see her. She is standing on a balcony kitty corner from my house on the cross street, waving like a mad woman.
“What the hell? Why are you up there?”
“She lives here”
“What?”
“I swear to god, she lives here. What are the chances?”
“That’s crazy!”
“I know, yoohooo! Do you see me?”
“I see you. Well, that’s bloody convenient; you can just come over here and tell me all about your date when you leave…. You won’t need to CALL me…”
“How funny is this?”
“It’s funny… now go back to your date and for gods sake – get laid!”
“Call you later”
“OK”
I return to dinner laughing and shaking my head. We settle in for the evening… well, ok not so exactly because the damn phone rings again…
“I kissed her”
“Are you still there?”
“Yeah”
“Where is she?”
“Oh, she’s right here, you wanna say Hi?”
‘Noooooooooooo, CC, stop calling me and get on with it”
“OK”
This whole date has somehow turned into a sport and of course I’m the team mascot. I have a very unhappy girlfriend on my hands. “Is this gonna go on all night?” I assure her that it’s not.
The phone rings
“I unbuttoned her shirt”
“Why in god's name are you calling me to tell me that?”
“I thought you wanted to know”
“I do, when it’s all over… I don’t need a play by play as it’s going down… um, you know what I mean”
“We have the new Madonna CD, I’m gonna pop the Moet and crank the volume”
“Good for you hun, get on with it… I’m not answering any more calls”
Then I whisper : ”You’re getting me in trouble”
“I thought you wanted me to get laid?”
“I do! You can’t do that when you are on the phone with me every 2 seconds”
“Good point, Ok – I’ll stop calling”
“Ok, have fun”
My girlfriend is not appreciating the crazy humor of the situation and couldn’t care less whether CC gets laid or not. I point out that if CC starts dating this girl she won’t be over my house as much… I try to play the angle that I’m really doing it so we can have more “alone” time…. It almost works….
The phone rings
The glare is intimidating, even to me.
“You told her you wouldn’t answer anymore calls”
I shut off the ringer. The house phone rings…
“Can we just go to bed? Maybe I want to get laid”
Her tone doesn’t sound like she wants to ravish me – lovingly or not. We go through our evening routine, contact lenses out, pj’s on, we get into bed. I double check that the ringers are off on both the house phone and my cell phone.
We are just relaxing when we hear urgent running footsteps. It sounds like a herd of elephants are coming down the stairs from the third floor. My upstairs roommate (the other fictional character) unceremoniously busts in arm outstretched with something in her hand. Yup, it’s a phone!
In a rush of breath she is pushing the phone at me. Standing there in white boxer shorts and a wife beater she is nervously shuffling from foot to foot. She looks like the world is ending. My girlfriend is furious…. “What the #$!%#”
“It’s CC, you have to talk to her. Something happened”
I take the phone
“This better be good CC!”
“You have to come over here!”
“Are you kidding me? For what?”
“Theres a girl outside with a gun”
“WHAT?”
“A chick WITH A GUN!”
“Who the hell is it”
“Apparently it’s her girlfriend!”
“I’m calling the cops”
“You can’t”
“WHAT?”
“She is a cop”
“Are you fucking kidding me?? I’ll be right there”
“Can you hurry up because she’s kicking the door in”
I put the phone down and calmly explain the situation to the two butch girls who look like deer in headlights. I instruct them to go over to the house immediately. I, take a couple of minutes… put in contact lenses, throw on some clothes and I may have run a brush through my hair. I don’t know why this part is always such a big deal in the re-telling… it’s not like I showered!
C’mon… I didn’t know if I was gonna end up on channel 10 or having to pose for my first mug shot ever… every girl has her standards…. contact lenses are mine.
I then march across the street of course it’s raining like a bitch and I have the two occupants of my house, both barefoot, both in boxer shorts, standing way back from the chick who is going nuts trying to kick in the front door. Neither knows what the hell to do and they are completely useless. I throw them a rhetorical question on my way past…
“I assume we have the right house, then?”
They both nod.
Without hesitation I walk right up to the crazy lady and I point at her in no uncertain terms I say:
“You, get out of my way, NOW!”
And I fix her with a look which pretty much said … what are you gonna shoot me? I could kill you with a look and back up…
And, back up she did. She wasn’t sure what to make of me – since I didn’t appear to have any fear of her at all. I walked right by her and yelled up to CC…
“It’s me, let me in… NOW!”
“Now” is such a great word in a crisis, it gets everyone’s attention… that and “STOP”. I have used them with success many times.
CC lets me in the house. I walk in on quite the scene. CC is as mad as a pissed off tiger that just lost its last prey to a bigger animal in the food chain. She is pacing and raving that the girl lied to her and she didn’t know she had a girlfriend meanwhile the poor girl is crying and is obviously freaking out about the whole situation. Right about then – the off-duty cop manages to get through the door. Good Times!!
CC throws her hands up in disgust declaring
“That’s it. I’m out”
With that, she walks right out of the house and heads to my house… leaving me with her now crying, date and a crazy woman with a gun!
Believe it or not…it gets better still!!
Crazy woman is screaming at CC’s date, I am in the middle of this somehow and I ask the girl if she wants to stay where she is or if she wants to come with us. She opts for the latter and I send her to get some clothes from her bedroom…. Flash back…. She and CC were in quite the compromising situation when all hell broke loose; subsequently she was in need of more clothing than she currently had on.
Crazy chick doesn’t like this idea and grabs the girl by the waist. Gotta give the girl props…she was a tough cookie; she grabbed onto the door frame and sunk her nails in and would not let go. The gun toting crazy lady picked CC’s date up off the ground and was pulling her – trying to make her let go of the doorframe.
I tried my tone again and commanded that she put the girl down “NOW”. It didn’t work the second time… in my defense crazy chick had police training and she probably recognized the tactic second time around.
I didn’t have much else to use so I did the only thing I could think off. I grabbed the other end of CC’s date and a tug of war match ensued.
This is where it gets good…
We are pulling the girl back and forth and I am yelling at crazy cop chick to put her down, she is yelling obscenities back at me obviously she has no intention of letting the girl go.
While we are in the midst of this display, CC returns to the house.
She must have come back to help, right? No, not at all… CC comes waltzing in still raving on about being lied to and now wants to know where her bottle of champagne is.
“Where’s my Moet? I’m not leaving my friggin Moet here – do you know how much that shit costs? I’m not paying for her and her fucking girlfriend to sit around and drink my champagne, Fuck That!”
She pays no attention to my plight or the plight of her date… she is fully lost in the world of Moet Chandon. CC locates the bottle and wields it proudly above her head as she turns and walks out of the door for the second time. Everything happened so fast I didn’t notice if she managed to grab her strawberries.
At some point my girlfriend stepped in and we managed to get the girl out of there unscathed, leaving crazy lady to have fun trashing the apartment. Eventually we all congregate safe and sound in my kitchen where CC is merrily swigging her Moet out of the bottle.
I had to persuade CC to let the girl stay the night with her – which she did. She drove her home the next day once the situation had blown over.
I lived in that house for seven years. I had never seen her before the date episode and I never saw her there again, in fact none of us saw her anywhere until almost ten years later when she was spotted on the dance floor by CC who proceeded to buy them both shots as they relieved their first date from a decade earlier and decided it would be a good idea to try it again!!
First date etiquette is as follows:
You all have that one friend who is a little “kooky”, the whack job, the one where the craziest weirdest shit happens to them right? You know that one friend you always tell stories about as you are sitting around your local softball diamond… coffee shop… poetry reading…Local Home Depot…Cat rescue league – wherever it is you go for fun…
It usually goes along these lines:
“What did she do this time?”
“Can you believe she…”
“I have tell you something totally bizarre”
“This shit only happens to her”
“It’s so random you couldn’t even make it up”
“How does she get into these situations?”
“She’s like a daytime mini series”
“She should write a movie”
“If I didn’t know her, I wouldn’t believe it myself”
That, my friends is a fictional character.
I am here to report that in my social group there isn’t just one fictional character. We are a self professed band of fictional characters. Drawn together possibly because like seeks like and birds of a feather make each other sneeze or some such shit…. Even though there are many of us, we definitely have two individuals that stand head and shoulders above the rest. For every crazy story and weird encounter our group may have, these two have us beat – just by walking to the mailbox.
One of the dynamic duo rented a third floor from me, we shared a kitchen and a stairwell. Our second heroine may as well have lived with us – since these compadres went almost everywhere together.
You have to first understand that these two individuals are card carrying members of the boy club. One of whom professes to have been raised by wolves. The other: Captain of one of the first women’s professional football teams. It was near impossible to lose a game with her on the defense line… (No idea if my terminology is correct – but hell I gave it a shot). You get the idea… to look at them you’re not thinking… pansy girls.
Note: I am not an athlete – nor an athletic supporter.
Our Captain Character, CC, hadn’t had a date in almost two years. Needless to say her pent up energy was driving everybody nuts…. The story varies – It is said that at CC’s request, I pulled a lovely, petite, dark haired Spanish beauty off the dance floor and forcibly struck some kind of date bargain on my friends’ behalf. It’s not completely out of the realm of possibility. However, my version is that I have no recollection of this happening and I had nothing to do with it. It’s an old argument at this point with no possible outcome other than heated debate… so there, now you’re a part of it.
The long and short of it is that CC got a date.
We were all thrilled, probably more so than CC and the Spanish lovely she had the date with. They had agreed to go out to lunch. Many agonizing hours of counsel went into choosing the lunch restaurant; it was a group effort – that’s for sure. We bestowed our blessing on CC and sent her off – hoping and praying she would at least get laid.
The age of cell phones was upon us – thank god I had a friend at the phone company because there were no roll-over minutes yet to be had. The game of telephone began after lunch and a few cocktails.
CC calls to give me the update:
“Lunch was great! We’re gonna go down to the ocean and hang out for the afternoon”
“That’s awesome hun, I’m so proud of you”
“I think she likes me”
“Well call me later and give me the update, ok?”
“Ok!”
A few hours go by and I’m up to my ears in paperwork at the office.
CC, calls while her date is in a store:
“You’re gonna be so proud of me”
“It’s going well then?”
“She’s really cool; we’ve just been hanging out, down the beach”
“See, I told you it would be a piece of cake”
“She’s coming back, I’ll call you later”
“Ok”
I’m just getting ready to head home when I get the third phone call. They are both giggly from a combination of the afternoon beverages and salty beach air. CC, informs me they are off to buy champagne and strawberries and are planning on continuing their date into the evening… To which, I am thanking the stars and proclaiming that there is a God! First dates can be tricky, they really could go either way – but so far this one seemed to have the makings of a really good first date! I make all the right noises and assure CC that she is making the right moves and she should just go with it. We hang up – they head for the strawberries/champagne fast track, I head home.
I’m having dinner with my girlfriend when the next call comes in…. I look at my gf apologetically…. “I have to take it, you know how she is” (high maintenance, needy pillow fluff – butch girls, lol – I had to work it in somewhere).
“Hey! You have to go to your front window”
“What?””Go to your window”
“Honey, I’m eating dinner”
“Please?”
“Aargh, Ok”
I walk to the front room
“Go all the way to the right”
So, there I am – like a fool peering at the empty street outside my house. CC bursts into peels of laughter.
“What is this all about, CC? I don’t see anything!”
“Look up”
“I don’t see anything”
She squeals like a little kid
“I can see you”
“Where”
“In your window, stupid”
I’m so gonna kill her at this point and my gf doesn’t look too happy either.
“Where are you?”
“We’re across the street, walk down to the corner”
So, of course I do because I’m that kind of friend. I walk out of my house, still on the cell phone, and make it to the corner. The street is deserted.
“Look up! Look up! See me waving?”
Then I see her. She is standing on a balcony kitty corner from my house on the cross street, waving like a mad woman.
“What the hell? Why are you up there?”
“She lives here”
“What?”
“I swear to god, she lives here. What are the chances?”
“That’s crazy!”
“I know, yoohooo! Do you see me?”
“I see you. Well, that’s bloody convenient; you can just come over here and tell me all about your date when you leave…. You won’t need to CALL me…”
“How funny is this?”
“It’s funny… now go back to your date and for gods sake – get laid!”
“Call you later”
“OK”
I return to dinner laughing and shaking my head. We settle in for the evening… well, ok not so exactly because the damn phone rings again…
“I kissed her”
“Are you still there?”
“Yeah”
“Where is she?”
“Oh, she’s right here, you wanna say Hi?”
‘Noooooooooooo, CC, stop calling me and get on with it”
“OK”
This whole date has somehow turned into a sport and of course I’m the team mascot. I have a very unhappy girlfriend on my hands. “Is this gonna go on all night?” I assure her that it’s not.
The phone rings
“I unbuttoned her shirt”
“Why in god's name are you calling me to tell me that?”
“I thought you wanted to know”
“I do, when it’s all over… I don’t need a play by play as it’s going down… um, you know what I mean”
“We have the new Madonna CD, I’m gonna pop the Moet and crank the volume”
“Good for you hun, get on with it… I’m not answering any more calls”
Then I whisper : ”You’re getting me in trouble”
“I thought you wanted me to get laid?”
“I do! You can’t do that when you are on the phone with me every 2 seconds”
“Good point, Ok – I’ll stop calling”
“Ok, have fun”
My girlfriend is not appreciating the crazy humor of the situation and couldn’t care less whether CC gets laid or not. I point out that if CC starts dating this girl she won’t be over my house as much… I try to play the angle that I’m really doing it so we can have more “alone” time…. It almost works….
The phone rings
The glare is intimidating, even to me.
“You told her you wouldn’t answer anymore calls”
I shut off the ringer. The house phone rings…
“Can we just go to bed? Maybe I want to get laid”
Her tone doesn’t sound like she wants to ravish me – lovingly or not. We go through our evening routine, contact lenses out, pj’s on, we get into bed. I double check that the ringers are off on both the house phone and my cell phone.
We are just relaxing when we hear urgent running footsteps. It sounds like a herd of elephants are coming down the stairs from the third floor. My upstairs roommate (the other fictional character) unceremoniously busts in arm outstretched with something in her hand. Yup, it’s a phone!
In a rush of breath she is pushing the phone at me. Standing there in white boxer shorts and a wife beater she is nervously shuffling from foot to foot. She looks like the world is ending. My girlfriend is furious…. “What the #$!%#”
“It’s CC, you have to talk to her. Something happened”
I take the phone
“This better be good CC!”
“You have to come over here!”
“Are you kidding me? For what?”
“Theres a girl outside with a gun”
“WHAT?”
“A chick WITH A GUN!”
“Who the hell is it”
“Apparently it’s her girlfriend!”
“I’m calling the cops”
“You can’t”
“WHAT?”
“She is a cop”
“Are you fucking kidding me?? I’ll be right there”
“Can you hurry up because she’s kicking the door in”
I put the phone down and calmly explain the situation to the two butch girls who look like deer in headlights. I instruct them to go over to the house immediately. I, take a couple of minutes… put in contact lenses, throw on some clothes and I may have run a brush through my hair. I don’t know why this part is always such a big deal in the re-telling… it’s not like I showered!
C’mon… I didn’t know if I was gonna end up on channel 10 or having to pose for my first mug shot ever… every girl has her standards…. contact lenses are mine.
I then march across the street of course it’s raining like a bitch and I have the two occupants of my house, both barefoot, both in boxer shorts, standing way back from the chick who is going nuts trying to kick in the front door. Neither knows what the hell to do and they are completely useless. I throw them a rhetorical question on my way past…
“I assume we have the right house, then?”
They both nod.
Without hesitation I walk right up to the crazy lady and I point at her in no uncertain terms I say:
“You, get out of my way, NOW!”
And I fix her with a look which pretty much said … what are you gonna shoot me? I could kill you with a look and back up…
And, back up she did. She wasn’t sure what to make of me – since I didn’t appear to have any fear of her at all. I walked right by her and yelled up to CC…
“It’s me, let me in… NOW!”
“Now” is such a great word in a crisis, it gets everyone’s attention… that and “STOP”. I have used them with success many times.
CC lets me in the house. I walk in on quite the scene. CC is as mad as a pissed off tiger that just lost its last prey to a bigger animal in the food chain. She is pacing and raving that the girl lied to her and she didn’t know she had a girlfriend meanwhile the poor girl is crying and is obviously freaking out about the whole situation. Right about then – the off-duty cop manages to get through the door. Good Times!!
CC throws her hands up in disgust declaring
“That’s it. I’m out”
With that, she walks right out of the house and heads to my house… leaving me with her now crying, date and a crazy woman with a gun!
Believe it or not…it gets better still!!
Crazy woman is screaming at CC’s date, I am in the middle of this somehow and I ask the girl if she wants to stay where she is or if she wants to come with us. She opts for the latter and I send her to get some clothes from her bedroom…. Flash back…. She and CC were in quite the compromising situation when all hell broke loose; subsequently she was in need of more clothing than she currently had on.
Crazy chick doesn’t like this idea and grabs the girl by the waist. Gotta give the girl props…she was a tough cookie; she grabbed onto the door frame and sunk her nails in and would not let go. The gun toting crazy lady picked CC’s date up off the ground and was pulling her – trying to make her let go of the doorframe.
I tried my tone again and commanded that she put the girl down “NOW”. It didn’t work the second time… in my defense crazy chick had police training and she probably recognized the tactic second time around.
I didn’t have much else to use so I did the only thing I could think off. I grabbed the other end of CC’s date and a tug of war match ensued.
This is where it gets good…
We are pulling the girl back and forth and I am yelling at crazy cop chick to put her down, she is yelling obscenities back at me obviously she has no intention of letting the girl go.
While we are in the midst of this display, CC returns to the house.
She must have come back to help, right? No, not at all… CC comes waltzing in still raving on about being lied to and now wants to know where her bottle of champagne is.
“Where’s my Moet? I’m not leaving my friggin Moet here – do you know how much that shit costs? I’m not paying for her and her fucking girlfriend to sit around and drink my champagne, Fuck That!”
She pays no attention to my plight or the plight of her date… she is fully lost in the world of Moet Chandon. CC locates the bottle and wields it proudly above her head as she turns and walks out of the door for the second time. Everything happened so fast I didn’t notice if she managed to grab her strawberries.
At some point my girlfriend stepped in and we managed to get the girl out of there unscathed, leaving crazy lady to have fun trashing the apartment. Eventually we all congregate safe and sound in my kitchen where CC is merrily swigging her Moet out of the bottle.
I had to persuade CC to let the girl stay the night with her – which she did. She drove her home the next day once the situation had blown over.
I lived in that house for seven years. I had never seen her before the date episode and I never saw her there again, in fact none of us saw her anywhere until almost ten years later when she was spotted on the dance floor by CC who proceeded to buy them both shots as they relieved their first date from a decade earlier and decided it would be a good idea to try it again!!
First date etiquette is as follows:
Don't spend your entire date updating your friends via phone, text messaging or smoke signals, spend some time with your date asking helpful questions like… Do you have a girlfriend? Does she own a gun?
Common Sense Rule 3.
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