Who needs a ride ‘or die I got a “effin B”

— this is a cut -n-paste from my favorite writer …

(fyi .. I’m TechBoo)

As usual, I didn’t get enough sleep throughout the week, so on Friday when TechBoo and I rolled into his older sister’s 40-something bday party at about 10:45 pm, I was already pooped. But this was DC and there was go-go music in the club(Hi, Elizabeth!), a VIP section featuring a round bed, and free-flowing drinkies… so you know how that goes…we didn’t get home until about 3:30 am.

But a fun time was had by all. The birthday girl was channeling Marilyn Monroe a la the dress over the sewer grate. TechBoo’s other older sister was the life of the party as usual; her younger boyfriend (yeah, she’s a cougar) did an admirable job of keeping up with her on the dance floor.

Some people had too much fun, though. The bday girl’s best friend–we’ll call her Lisa–has always seemed to have an Issue with me ever since we met last spring. Nothing too obvious and nothing I could ever put my finger on; I just knew I wasn’t one of her favorite people and, well, I didn’t care. But then at TechBoo’s other sister’s bday party at TechBoo’s house last fall, some of us were talking about children’s books like Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret, at the end of the night (long story), and Lisa just went off, on me in particular, yelling: “I didn’t buy my kids books! I talked to my kids! I talked to my kids about life!” As if you can’t do both…but, whatever. I just stared at her like she was crazy. Which she apparently is…

So we’re at the party Friday night, and I’m wearing my cute boots and dancing up a storm, so you know what happens next: my dogs start barking, as we say in the vernacular. So Tech Boo and I sit on this bench in the VIP bday party area, so that I can talk off my boots, and he can rub my feet. Well, Lisa stumbles (literally) upon us. She’s had way too much to drink. She starts yelling at us about how we aren’t supposed to do that in Da Club…”Y’all ain’t 50! Why y’all acting so old! Y’all younger than me! I’m a single mom too!”

HUH??

So Tech Boo and I just laugh at her like you’re supposed to laugh at drunk people who are acting stupid…and he continues to rub my feet.

Well, this enrages Lisa. She starts yelling at me, “How old are you? How old are you? I’m a single mother too! How old are you?”

Me: “I’m 50.”

What followed consisted of her calling me an effin’ bee…oh, about 3 or 4 times, interspersed with the question about my age, the declaration that I’m “bourgie”…and oh, yeah, she’s a single mom too.

TechBoo and I are incredulous. We both are doing the “okay-she’s-really-nuts-is-this-going-to-get-physical” nervous laughter thing.

She keeps asking my age; I keep saying I’m 50; TechBoo keeps rubbing my feet; she keeps calling me an effin’ bee.

And then she slapped TechBoo.

I wish I were making this up.

Now mind you, Lisa weighs about 80 lbs in a snowsuit.

TechBoo yelled her name to try to snap her back to sobriety, but she’s still ranting. We’re stunned. Then she starts talking about how now we’re going to kick her out of the family (she’s been friends with TechBoo’s sis since high school). We just stare at her until she walks away.

TechBoo is a very strong man. He could have snapped her in two and picked his teeth with her…but he’s not That Guy.

I’m nobody’s fighter, and I’ve learned that ignoring people can be a maddeningly effective defense; I think that’s what engraged Lisa most: she called me old, bourgie, and an effin’ bee–and I never blinked.

Still…I’ve never been called an effin’ bee in my life. Or even a regular old bee! Not fun…

Anyhoo…so that was a late night.

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~ by blkirish on February 24, 2009.

One Response to “Who needs a ride ‘or die I got a “effin B””

  1. Oh-My-Goodness! You both showed incredible maturity and restraint. I know TechBoo must have ground his teeth to dust to keep from knocking that ignorant-drunken-ghetto psychopath into next week. I wanted to hit her and I wasn’t even there!

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