A Night With The McGee's

A few months back my friends and I went to Cabo Cantina
for Happy Hour. We all know how that goes when its "Two-fer" night at the bar. Anyway, one drink turned into fifteen drinks. Friends began dropping off like flies (literally) and Shanda, bless her heart, who has mastered the art of pulling "The Houdini,"was no where to be found.

Me: "Has anyone seen Shanda?"

Me: "Guys, where's Shanda? Did she leave??"

Me: "I already checked the bathroom."

Me: " Yeah, the Guys bathroom too."

Meanwhile, Shanda was safe & sound at home - passed out in her bed spooning a burrito. Bitch.

Anyway, the night really began at 4:00 a.m. back at The Unit with Dustin, Elliot and yours truly. Now, anyone who knows the 3 of us collectively, is well aware that absolutely no good can come out of this situation. Please, bear with me. It gets better, I swear.

So, the night was running along like any other Friday night. Troy was away (in A.C) Jorge was gone up in the OC, Wood was with his chick - so being just the 3 of us I was pretty much able to whore all of the attention for myself.

At this point, I had already convinced Dustin to let me use all his weed to roll a mothafuckin' bat and roped him into massaging my feet. So, I'm sprawled out on the couch - lighter in hand (as we had just finished hoochin' a fatty) and suddenly, I got the most wonderful idea- so I thought I'd throw it out there - You know, for shits & giggles.

Me: "Elliot, can I burn you?"

Snakes: "Are you fuckin crazy?! Okay."

Sidenote: Elliot & Dustin are often referred to as Snakes & Blabs McGee for the following reasons.

Elliot (a.k.a. Snakes McGee) - I can only speculate he was given this name for his aggressive alter-ego "Snakes" who surfaces when he has consumed retarded amounts of alcohol (this usually happens 3-4 times per week) - For example, the time he made it his life mission to go to 'The Tavern' every night for a week straight. However, on the 6th night he wound up wasted and passed out on our couch ... at 5am he burst into my bedroom and attempted to relieve himself on my pile of neatly folded clean clothes. When I tried to intervene - (you guessed it) he cocked back his fist in an attempt to deliver a powerful right hook to my face - (not the more dignified "bitch-slap" as one might suspect) .... he was going to knock me the-fuck-out.

He didn't hit me of course ... and yes, we're fine.

Dustin (a.k.a. Blabs McGee) - Dustin is my favorite "gay" guy friend ... except he's not gay. If I ever felt like spending an entire afternoon talking shit about every single person I know or having an intense in-depth yet highly reflective convo about the contestants on "So You Think You Can Dance?" - I would make the following call .....

"Hey, Schnizzler, wanna come over and hang out by my pool?"

Once I get him in the pool, frolicking on my pink raft and drinking vodka & pink lemonade (seriously, he's not a flaming homosexual) his mouth would run like a leaky faucet. Blabbidy. Blab. Blab.

God, I love that boy.


Now, back to business.

Sooooo, basically at this point, Snakes has given his consent to be branded by my Bic lighter. So, I heat that bad boy up for a good 2 minutes, Snakes offers me his arm in all its tattooed glory (full, bad-ass sleeve) and I go to fuckin town.


SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS (that's the sizzle sound of flesh burning for those of you who completely lack imagination)

Snakes: "YEEEEAAAHHH!! That's what I'm fuckin talkin' about, Son! I love it!! Shit, look how sweet that looks!! YESSSS!!! I FUCKIN' LOVE PAIN!!!"


Blabs: (whom at this point was getting himself all worked-up and as a result, his voice began projecting at an unbelievably high-pitch thought only possible if you were a Smurf) "Oh my God, Elliot! I can't believe you just did that!!! Dude, that's craaazy!!! Holy Shit!!"

Me: "Okay, your turn, Twizzle Sticks." (Dustin)

Blabs: "Are you crazy?! I'm not doing that!! Do you not recall the bout of raging poison oak I had 9 months ago which may still be laying dormant under the surface?? My skin is extremely sensitive, Rebeccaaaaa!! I could have a serious adverse reaction. "

Snakes: "Forget it, Dude - don't let her make you do something you don't want to do.... you're just a woman, that's all. Nothing to be embarrassed about. You're still Gangsta.. ..even though you probably have a vagina."

(at this point I was already heating the lighter up, because everyone knows that 99.9% of the time Dustin will cave to peer-pressure - especially when his "manhood" is called into question.)

Blabs: "Okay, fine." as he extends his lean, milky arm across my lap "Go! Go! Go!"

Please put your brain in visial mode for this because the lighter had now been heating up for over 6 minutes and that bitch was hotter than the fuckin sun.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS


Dustin (whose voice had gone up an additional 400 octaves and now sounded exactly like Miss Piggy after she'd been huffing whippits for 3 weeks straight ) screams:

"OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!! YOU BITCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!" ... as he hurdled himself, horizontally through the air and into the unsuspecting entertainment unit. Shelves came crashing down - books and baseballs went flying everywhere. .... and Dizzle .... Dizzy-D .... was on his knees in the midst of the rubble that was once his cozy living room ... crying like a 2 year old baby who was in dire need of a diaper change.

Fast-forward to Monday morning. I get the following e-mail from Blabs:

"Everyone at work saw the burns on my arm and they know what they are. It looks completely unprofessional and now I can never wear short sleeves to work again. Mary in Accounting told me I will have these scars forever. I'm so pissed off. Thanks a lot, Rebecca."




In spite of my numerous attempts to rectify this situation, Blabs didn't speak to me for 5 days.

Apparently, he needed some time to "cool down" .... and a swift kick in the vag.