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My New Haircut

My friend, the reigning queen of Match.com, came into town a couple of weeks ago for a visit. It was the first time in three years I had seen her, and not much had changed, except for the last time we were together she was on the verge of finalizing her divorce.

Years later, and a few relationships later, she was back on the prowl. A smart, sassy, gorgeous girl, she has no problem whatsoever striking up a conversation with anyone she pleases.

On Friday night, while another girlfriend and I were brutally beating some poor baby-faced men at shuffleboard, my visitor met a sweet, young musician. At the end of the evening, my friend got musician guy’s number and told him he could meet up with us the following night.

Twenty-seven hours later, we were on our fifth bar and the friendly musician was having a hard time keeping up with us seasoned party-ers. After a shot of rough whiskey, he and my friend went outside for a smoke. They started kissing, and moments later, he tumbled to the ground. Just straight up fell with no good explanation.

Before the bar closed, the bartender bought my friend and her clumsy beau another shot. Down it went. And down the musician almost went on our walk to the subway.

Once on the subway, a pattern emerged of the musician falling asleep on my friend’s shoulder, and then lifting his head to make out with her, and then falling again. Four stops into our ride, he said he had to run and sprined off the train. As we pull away I see him throwing up along the side of the subway stop. All I could think was good for him for having the sense to get off instead of puking all over my friend’s lap.

Meanwhile, a 21-year-old bold Catholic University kid had managed to find his way into the seat next to my friend. Brave as he was, I am certain he regretted that decision.

You see, drunk or not, my friend is a quick lady. And she very soon called him out, loudly, for coming over because he thought he could slide into the musician’s place without her noticing. But somehow, between the introduction and the call-out, she learned this young chap was from Jersey. So all of a sudden my drunk, brilliant friend, was yelling, over and over again, “Heineken! Jager Bomb! Heineken! Jager Bomb!” with the best Jersey accent she could muster.

Sitting diagonally from her, I thought she had lost her mind. Why was she screaming drink names to this poor kid, in between telling him he had no chance with her?

Lil’ dude didn’t shy away quickly. So when he asked what was so wrong with making out with him, she quickly replied” “Well first of all, what is with your hair? That’s terrible hair. And those shoes are gross. Get some new shoes…”

And on it went intermixed with cries of Heineken! and Jager Bomb!, and something about a new hair cut. Until the young man, finally retreated to his original seat, next to his very embarrassed friend.

But not before the whole front of the subway car was shedding tears from laughing at my friend’s antics. Two people told me it made their night.

Turns out the cries of Heineken! Jager Bomb! and New Haircut! were from this clip, called “My New Haircut,” which makes quite a lot of fun of Jersey guys. Please watch. I promise you will laugh.

A sidenote to this story is four days before my friend arrived in DC she had so badly broken her toe, she had to wear a giant grey robo-boot her entire trip. A sight to be scene as she hobbled along, holding up drunk musician guy. The boot also ended as a prop in the subway scene. My friend railed it against the metal siding of the train every time she was making a point, or screaming Heineken! Jager Bomb!, to the pitiful young man beside her.

To the young man’s credit, he did perform a full-on bow prior to exiting the train. I was surprised he had enough manhood left to pull that off.

Cheers for the friends in life who never fail to make an evening memorable.

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Categories: Bars, DC, Friends
  1. LadyLuck
    December 3, 2009 at 2:26 pm

    Hmmm…who is this friend of yours? 😉 Good times.

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